Chapter 64 – Different Kind of Traitors

After the Inquisitor had thoroughly questioned all of Blake's people and had been completely proven guilty – in whatever sense – I would have expected that she would move forward with Malachi. Or with our judgments. But Imogen continued to stand next to the interrogation chair without acknowledging Malachi, who was the only one who hadn't spoken yet. Instead, she nodded to two of her guards who had lined up with the others behind both benches.

Her guards nodded back almost imperceptibly and stepped out of line. They rotated around their own axis in a graceful movement. Like a well-rehearsed choreography. I had already noticed it earlier when the Inquisitor's guard had taken us out of the Gard's cells. They all moved as if they were part of a hive, as if there was one mind controlling them all, as if they were all just one cog in a great system. The discipline and training that must have gone into this was admirable.

In unison, the two guards disappeared behind the same back door through which Malachi had previously entered the hall. Not long. Maybe a minute before they returned. Except that there were no longer two of them. A third person walked between them. Although walk wasn't the right word. Supported on the shoulders of the two guards, the person was carried out of the shadows of the room behind and into the Clave chamber.

It felt like time stood still. My brain didn't immediately recognize the figure; it looked too different. There was nothing left of the polished, orderly demeanor that had always conveyed trustworthiness and insight. The brown hair disheveled and matted, as if he had been summoned straight from a battlefield. The white skin deathly pale, as if he had been left standing in the cold for hours. Legs so wobbly, as if he hadn't eaten in days.

There, in the arms of the two soldiers, more dead than alive, with his head bowed as if every step brought him agony, hung Adam.

Adam, barely able to keep his eyes open, squinted against the witch-lights and tried to focus on the hall before him. The Inquisitor's guards dragged him mercilessly forward, straight towards the interrogation chair. Someone in the crowd shouted Adam's name, standing up in protest from the crowd of Nephilim. His mother, who now gave Imogen a withering look. But if there was one thing the Inquisitor could do, it was focus her attention on one thing alone and ignore the rest of the world. And so, the isolated uprisings were lost in her ignorance.

Adam staggered past our bench, and I was about to let out a breath – relieved that he hadn't noticed us in his state of health – when he tilted his head, his bloodshot eyes scanning over us and finally settling on me. He stumbled over his own feet and the Nephilim holding him were forced to stop. But Adam was only interested in me. His chapped lips parted as if he wanted to say something. Something urgent entered his emerald eyes.

I felt the hurried breath catch in my throat – how I decided to hold my breath instead, as if that would prevent a reaction from him. But in all the adrenaline, I had forgotten that we weren't alone. Because the next moment, Jace suddenly lifted his head to get Adam's attention. His golden irises flashed.

"Keep going, Demonhunter," he growled with simmering voice. A tone so tense and devoid of emotion that it promised violence with any form of defiance. A threat so clear that it was evident how this situation would have ended without the eyes of hundreds of spectators.

Adam blinked again. The moment had passed. His guards regained their activity and forced him on. Even when he was placed unceremoniously on the chair, his eyes were glued to us. It took me several attempts, the feel of Jace's arm around my shoulders, to understand why Adam was staring at us like he'd never seen us before.

"What is he doing here?" Isabelle whispered irritably.

"The Silent Brothers must have decided that he was healthy enough to testify. After all, he's also being investigated." Jace's voice was dangerously quiet. I could only partially understand the satisfaction on his face.

"Even I was healthier when I gave my speech to the Clave. He looks like he'll fall apart at the slightest wrong move."

"You don't feel sorry for him, do you Clary?" Isabelle clicked her tongue reprimandingly and shook her head. "He confessed to you what he did."

My eyes darted to Adam, who received the same succinct explanation of runes and spells from the Inquisitor. He didn't seem to be able to follow her continuously. She didn't seem to care, just as she never really cared about the well-being of others. It was strange that the Nephilim had appointed someone like her as Inquisitor. But somehow not at all. Who would hunt the outlaws more ruthlessly than someone of her caliber? However, she would be completely unsuitable as a Consul who was the mirror of society.

"I don't feel sorry for him," I finally said.

"But you're not really angry either," Isabelle completed my thoughts. Another doubtful look from her. "Don't worry, Jace and I will compensate for any anger you can't muster." Her white teeth flashed and she and Jace exchanged a mischievous, smug look.

Blue sparks sprayed through the room as Magnus cast his spell and Adam slumped further. The questioning began and I was almost grateful to be able to turn away from Isabelle. After Imogen asked the typical opening questions, a curious quiet fell over the ranks of the Shadowhunters.

"What was your relationship with Blake Ashdown?" was her first substantive question.

Unlike the previous speakers, Adam didn't have the physical strength to defend himself against the spell. The words flowed out of him without him being able to hesitate or compose himself. "By the fact that our parents were already friends, Blake and I became friends when I was four years old. The more people he included in his little group, the more our friendship changed. Sometimes I was his first place to go when he needed to air his thoughts. But there were also times when he saw me and my parents' relationship in the Clave only as a means to an end."

"Friendship then," summarized Imogen neutrally. "It sounds like you were part of his ... group. Is that true? What was the purpose of it?"

"It wasn't like a club that you could officially join. We weren't members. At first, we were all just Blake's friends, without really knowing each other. Initially, we just met, trained together, or went on trips to Canada. Blake liked to play games, and eventually, he turned these trips into hunts. Hunting animals and Downworlders alike, anything non-human. Over time, the focus shifted to Downworlders. Blake hated them. Most of us at least had a dislike for them. For a while, hunting Downworlders was our common hobby. Until Blake eventually decided that it wasn't enough to kill a few of them here and there. He wanted more, wanted to achieve greater significance. For a long time, he didn't know how. Killing was no longer sufficient. He studied history books, opened himself up to the rumors in the underworld, developed an almost fanatical interest in the Circle movement and Valentine Morgenstern personally. I think he wanted to start something similar."

"So Valentine Morgenstern was your role model?"

Adam shook his head and looked dismayed. "No, not at all. Blake only took inspiration from the way Valentine conducted his affairs, how he brought the Circle to power. In terms of content, he also wanted the eradication of Downworlders, but for different reasons than Valentine. Blake was obsessed with the idea that there were beings beneath him in rank. It motivated him to harm others without being held accountable himself. For Blake, there was never anything like a greater good to defend. Everything he did, he did out of self-interest, to satisfy his needs. Valentine wants to eradicate the Downworlders because he sees them as a threat due to their demonic blood. Blake doesn't care about such things. The fact that they are less valuable alone is what drives him."

Outrage from the few Shadowworlders present today. Imogen didn't respond. "Then why did he work with Valentine Morgenstern?" she asked.

"On the one hand, they indirectly pursued the same goal, albeit for different reasons. On the other hand, he was looking for an opportunity to get to Clary," Adam turned his head in our direction, but I was unsure if he could actually see us. There was a haze over his gaze, and looking at him was enough to remind me of the feel of the rune on my own skin.

"What does Clarissa have to do with all this? Why did Blake despise her so much? Why would Blake do all these things just to get to her?"

"Blake was used to being avoided out of respect. Most Shadowhunters our age steered clear of him because of the rumors he spread about himself. He liked that nobody contradicted him, that perhaps they despised him but didn't challenge him. He liked being feared. Then Clary came along, and the reputation of the Morgensterns' preceded her so far that within a few days, she became the embodiment of what he had long been working toward. Everyone avoided her, feared her, respected her — on a level that Blake could never have achieved. And as if that weren't enough, she doubted him from the very first moment and exposed him. This new power dynamic made him feel threatened. And Blake was someone who dealt with things directly, in the most brutal way possible. In his eyes, Clary's challenge was nothing less than a direct sword attack."

"Why did he then want to kidnap her and deliver her to Valentine?"

"It happened because Malachi approached him. Actually, he first tried to kill her, but without success." A murmur went through the crowd. Astonishment. But that was nothing new, judging by Imogen's expression. A few people knew about it, had found out about it right after my kidnapping.

"Obviously," the Inquisitor remarked with a quick sidelong glance at me. She probably didn't expect anything else from me. I was still Clary Morgenstern. Maybe she should have been there, that night by the canal. Maybe it would be good for her to see that I was much more vulnerable than she gave me credit for. She strode around Adam with precise movements, like a robber on the hunt, her black robe swirling behind her. "Tell me one thing, Adam. You were Blake's friend, but on the other hand you became friends with Clarissa. How does that fit together?"

Adam hesitated. His weakening body tried to press his lips together and remain silent in a desperate attempt by his subconscious. A blink of an eye later, he was shaken by a tremor that made him twitch in agony. "There were rumors in the underworld," he finally blurted out. Like the leak in a pipe that suddenly gave way to the water pressure. "Rumors that Valentine Morgenstern was still alive. Blake was already closely working with the ultra-conservative faction, which shared many views similar to Valentine's. Since I was about to embark on my overseas assignment, they tasked me with going to New York. The Lightwoods are one of the few former members of the Circle who still hold power today. I was there for espionage. To find out if the Lightwoods still had contact with Valentine. I was just one of many who took up such a position, in various institutes around the world."

"Valentine has spies on the Clave," Imogen stated with a hint of dissatisfaction in her voice. "Certainly some among the ultra-conservatives. Why didn't you reach out to them?"

"We don't know them," Adam murmured, barely audible. "They don't reveal themselves to anyone. Not even to us."

This fact didn't surprise me. My father was no fool. He chose the people he trusted very carefully. They would all die for him. And letting someone in, even someone from your own political spectrum, was a threat to his integrity. There was a reason why Valentine had remained undiscovered for almost nineteen years.

Adam's response seemed to do little to win Imogen over to his side. She stood before him, her size looming before him like that one rock in the sea that every boat crashed against. "You still haven't explained how Clarissa Morgenstern fits in there. So?"

"When Clary came to New York, she became a far more significant target for the faction than the Lightwoods. From then on, my task was to spy on her regarding Valentine. We knew he was alive, but we couldn't just make contact with him. At that point, it was also unclear whether Clary herself might be acting on behalf of her father."

I felt my fingers clench. I suddenly found it difficult to look at Adam. Adam. My friend. Someone I had trusted and who seemed to have taken advantage of that trust from the first minute. What was worse than liars? A fight, an open hostility, was direct and brutal, but honest. What Adam had done was deceitful and cowardly. And so painful that I couldn't find the energy to summon the anger within me. It felt humiliating to hear him speak of me in the third person in front of the Nephilim community. As if I was stupid. As if I should have known better. He showed me off, even if unintentionally.

"So the friendship with Clarissa was nothing more than an act to gain information about her father?" the Inquisitor asked.

"No." The word left Adam's mouth at the speed of a lightning bolt. Somehow his shattered, weakened body managed to turn in my direction. Somehow he managed to push away the veil covering his pupils and look me straight in the eye. I didn't want to think about what that meant. "No," he whispered a second time and suddenly I couldn't look anymore. "The friendship we built was genuine."

And yet, in the end, he had chosen Blake. I wanted to scream, to cry, to break something. Most, I just wanted to run away and leave this room – his words – behind me.

Jace's arm, still resting on the back of the bench behind me, moved as he leaned to the side. His fingers brushed my shoulders, gliding gently down my back. He shifted the center of his arm and suddenly his fingers were tickling my hair, pressing almost imperceptibly against the base of my nape, as if he wanted to run his hand along my neck from behind.

I lifted my eyes from my shoes and searched for his eyes, whose irises were already shining golden back at me. The gentleness of his features captivated me for a few seconds until I looked closer and realized it was nothing but a facade. Because of me. A frustrated sigh escaped me and I turned away from Jace again.

"What?" His strained voice betrayed him.

"You're angry," I stated. "What's this scene for?"

"Of course, I'm angry." He dropped the mask and the rage in his eyes gave me pause, even though his fingers on my neck were no less gentle than they had been a moment ago. "I didn't like him anyway. And now it turns out he was a damn spy the whole time. He spied on the Lightwoods, my family. He did so many things – he has left so much undone. And you, who is usually like fire, just let him get away with it."

"I'm tired, Jace," I replied quietly. "They kidnapped me, tortured me and spied on me, but this is not the first time I have been betrayed. It's not the first time that someone important to me has gone and switched sides. It's not the first and certainly won't be the last time. And after Jonathan, the entire world could collapse without it hurting me in the same way."

Jace was silent for a long while. Meanwhile, Imogen had already squeezed all the confessions about Adam out of him. Meanwhile, Adam had admitted that he knew about the kidnapping and had decided to let Blake carry it out. I was so sick that I had to clasp my fingers together and squeeze to keep from vomiting right then and there. I had to lean forward, focusing on the floor and my breathing to keep this feeling of abandonment under control.

Adam only decided afterwards, when the kidnapping was already underway, that he wasn't ready to hand me over to my father after all. "Why?" Imogen wanted to know. "Why this change of heart if your friendship with Blake meant more to you?"

"I ... it's not that Blake's friendship was more important to me. But I owed him, I've known him my whole life." I had already heard that much at the crucial point in front of the Ashdowns' country house, when Blake and Adam had tried to blame each other. Adam was still squirming, clenching his hands into fists and shaking his head vehemently as if he would rather die than continue speaking. "Going against Blake's orders was nothing short of betraying him personally. I was afraid that Blake would tell her the truth about our friendship. I didn't want her perception of me to change. So I wanted to get her out of there."

To Jace's and my surprise, Isabelle started giggling. This inappropriateness distracted me for the moment. I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows in confusion. Isabelle had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. "Imagine it. He wanted to get you out of there. All alone. Against how many of his friends? How stupid is he anyway?"

Imogen seemed to be wondering the same thing too. Except she didn't find the whole thing amusing in the slightest. It must have seemed more like a kindergarten to her. This time Adam answered without thinking about his words. "I love her. I had to choose between Blake and her, and I chose her. Because I love her. Even though I made that decision way too late."

Imogen's expression suggested that she regretted asking her question in the first place. I could literally see what she was thinking. And I'm conducting a serious interrogation for something like this? Her reaction was indifferent, even a little repulsive. As if the idea that someone could love me didn't resonate with her. Or was it love in general that she hated after losing her own?

Jace's and Isabelle's reaction was even more extreme. Beside me, Jace stiffened. His fingers on my neck froze in their motion. A quick glance in his direction revealed a flicker of a mixture of astonishment and displeasure, which he hastily hid behind his wall of exuberant arrogance. Amused, he furrowed his brow; the right corner of his mouth lifted as he met my gaze.

An incredulous snort escaped Isabelle. She jerked her head towards me in entertainment and playfully pushed her elbow into my side. "So, now it's out. A really romantic way to tell you."

"I already knew," I admitted, my voice distorted because my stomach was still pressing against my esophagus. I blinked in a feeble attempt to keep the darkness from the edges of my eyes. The Inquisitor shooed a staggering Adam off the podium. Apparently she had no interest in hearing more from him. I was grateful to her for that because I didn't want to find out more about Adam's feelings towards me.

"He already told you personally?" asked Isabelle, now sounding genuinely surprised. And a touch indignant. "When? Why didn't you tell me about it?" And after a short pause, "Wait, you're not together, I mean a couple, right? Clary please tell me that your passivity today has nothing to do with the fact that you are in love with him? You can't jump from one toxic family relationship straight into the next toxic relationship ..."

Next to me, Jace noticeably flinched at the word love. The touch of his fingers was gone so suddenly that I could have imagined it before. I pulled myself together to sit upright again, noticing that Jace had become as still as stone next to me. Isabelle, who didn't seem to notice, grabbed my shoulders and shook me, pushing me closer to Jace. He moved away from me, automatically putting distance between us. I was too overwhelmed with all the stimuli coming at me to respond. What could I have done anyway?

"He confessed to me after he was hit by the arrow," I explained curtly and Isabelle released the pressure on my upper arms. "We ... didn't get a chance to talk about it after that."

Isabelle opened her mouth, a scolding, dangerous look in her chestnut eyes. But fortunately, Imogen got ahead of her. I breathed a sigh of relief and received a dark look from her. I knew she meant well and she was trying to keep me out of trouble. But right now it was just too much for me. I hadn't eaten a bite since yesterday, slept half a night, and was now confronted again with all the panic that Blake had been building up in me for weeks. And there was Adam, my friend, who had apparently seen more in me than that and had still betrayed me. Even though in his head, he had ultimately chosen me. As if he could undo all the others with this one decision.

"It's time to determine the sentences," the Inquisitor announced. "Let's start with the defendants surrounding Blake Ashdown."

The Shadowhunters in the room erupted in heated chatter. Their attention shifted to her seatmates; away from us. Jace took advantage of the moment to lean towards me and my chin automatically turned towards him as I caught his movement in the corner of my eye. Our faces were only inches apart when he began to whisper in a dramatic tone. "It really hurts me to see how little our love means to you. And then Adam too. You could have mentioned that we're allowed to bet on more horses." His lips were twisted into a theatrical grin and his voice sounded at best disinterested and amused at my expense, as if he wanted to tell me something informative. But distance flickered in his hard golden eyes.

"Jace," I tried to explain, not having any words to follow. I hated it when he hid his emotions behind this wall of arrogance and indifference. This finally drove the anger into my veins, while everything else so far hadn't left me cold, but couldn't really wake me up either. The flash of anger on my face made Jace blink as if he, too, was surprised. His smile wavered for the blink of an eye and a flood of images and feelings rushed through my brain. "Meaning." I spat out the word like poison and he moved away from me a bit so that he could see my features as a whole. "You, who kisses me and then runs away, only allowing your feelings because you think it's a dream. You are one to talk."

That made him shut up.

I turned away from him and focused on a point in the crowd. The discussion in the ranks became louder and more chaotic, but this was intentional. Although the Inquisitor pronounced the sentence and could determine it at her own discretion, the community could have a say, make suggestions and advocate for a penalty. Listening to their suggestions was humiliating. There were so many underage defendants that the Nephilim found it difficult to take serious action. These were children and that's how they were treated.

"I have heard enough and have a full understanding of your opinions," Imogen stated after minutes of discussion. She stood in front of the podium, her hands clasped together in front of her abdomen and her head raised to her people. The rush of ideas and thoughts that she had just been bombarded with could not be seen in her ice blue eyes. Instead, a strict determination. She tried to show unity; tried not to show her emotions. That expression reminded me of Jace, sitting next to me, motionless and unresponsive, as if we didn't know each other. "For the underage defendants, I render the following judgment. Since they are still young enough to be spared the full force of the law and so they can reflect on their actions and learn from them, they will each be sent to different Institutes around the world and are required to remain there until the end of their training. The top priority here is to establish close contact and exchange with the Shadowworlders in the region to repair the damaged image to our allies. Their families will be responsible for making reparations to the families of their victims."

Murmurs of agreement broke out as many had suggested similar things before. I squeezed my eyelids shut, wondering if I was okay with this. These boys, who had helped kidnap me and watched my torture, would be sent away from Alicante and Toronto for the remainder of their youth. Hoping that they learned more somewhere else and made better people of themselves.

My eyes slid automatically to the little boy who had started crying during his testimony. He would make something of himself, I was sure of it. He hadn't been deeply involved in this ideology from the start. But what about those who had been? Would a change of location be enough?

Isabelle's angry hiss to my left gave me her answer to the condemnation. "They will keep their feet still for a few years and continue working underground. After that, everything will continue as usual." She sounded annoyed and disappointed, as if she had expected more from Imogen.

"They're underage," I heard Jace say through gritted teeth. His face was pointedly directed at his grandmother. "What should she do? Put them in jail?"

Neither Isabelle nor I answered. We exchanged a look and she patted my knee sympathetically, as if she could empathize with me. She probably thought I felt the same outrage she did. If I was honest with myself, I didn't feel anything. I didn't care about their judgment. I didn't get any benefit from it. Yes, I hated them all, but whether they were dead or alive made no difference to me. And there wasn't much of the simmering hatred left in my stomach right now.

"For the three adult defendants, however, things look a little different," the Inquisitor continued, wandering from the middle of the room over to the bench with Blake's friends. Malachi looked at her mockingly as she passed him, but her attention was on the three boys, whose expressions were unnaturally devoid of emotion. Adam, who was sitting next to them, was apparently not meant with her statement. To him, she seemed to have her own judgment. "You are accomplices to the abduction and torture of another Nephilim. You have violated the Accords by hunting down and murdering Shadowworlders. You are old enough to know how a Shadowhunter should act. You have followed an ideology of hate that has no place in our community, and any decent Shadowhunter would have distanced themselves from it without hesitation. This hatred of the Shadowworld has already caused chaos eighteen years ago, and I will not allow a new generation to adopt and emulate these ideals. For this reason, I have decided to set an example for all those here who believe that these values have any place in the Clave. Your runes will be stripped from you. From today on, you are no longer Nephilim and no longer part of this community. You are forced to start a new life in the human world, and you are forbidden to ever make contact with a Shadowhunter again. Just as it is forbidden for us to maintain contact with you. Additionally, your surviving families must make reparations to the injured Shadowworlders."

Outraged, shocked screams from the rows of seats pierced the silence that followed Imogen's fatal verdict. The shock of such a drastic, clear-cut decision hung over the room for a lengthy moment. Then the Shadowhunters exploded in equal measures of protest and applause. The Shadowworlders who were allowed to attend clapped particularly loudly. The three boys, who had just lost their entire existence, stared into nothingness with wide, disbelieving eyes. And I started laughing. So loud that the three condemned men turned their heads in my direction and stared at me with such fervent anger that I couldn't help but laugh harder.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Isabelle squeaked and pressed her long fingernails painfully into my forearm. "You haven't been convicted yet. Do you know what that looks like right now?"

Yes, maybe I was out of my mind. Maybe this life had given me a crack. But I couldn't stop laughing. "Blake is dead," I snorted, showing Isabelle my teeth. "And those three bastards just got what they deserved. They will think about me and hate me for the rest of their lives and maybe one day they will regret what they did. Weren't you just upset about the lax judgment?"

"But not like that," she growled, waving an outstretched hand in front of my eyes. Her pupils darted past me to the bench on the other side of the podium. "Oh, Clary, please stop laughing before Imogen sees you. She already hates you. We don't want to give her another reason."

"Clary." Jace's voice was harsh and commanding and not at all friendly. As if he didn't like me and found it unbearable to sit next to me. "Get your shit together. This is a serious event, and you're not a child. I know it's hard for you, but please behave like a rational, mentally competent adult for once. Can you manage that?"

And just like that, the laughter had left me again. Not that the laughter wasn't strange, it certainly was. But I was traumatized and that was probably enough of an excuse if Isabelle's expression was anything to go by. "I swear by the Angel, if we weren't sitting in front of the entire Clave right now, I would punch you so hard in the face for that comment that even an Iratze wouldn't be able to help you." Isabelle glared at Jace as if he were Valentine himself; as if she had a personal feud with him.

But Jace didn't stir and didn't seem moved by her comment. All he did was lift his chin and punish us with the full, indifferent harshness of his golden eyes. Then he turned away. And I felt the tears in the corners of my eyes, which were probably even more inappropriate than my laughter earlier. I wanted to respond, feeling so personally offended that I had to say something back. But I could only stare at him in disbelief because he had actually sounded a little like my father. Not the voice, but the content of his words. The ignorance of hurting others' feelings and the inconsideration of dragging others' obvious problems into the spotlight.

"Ignore him," Isabelle said loud enough for Jace to hear. "It shouldn't be your problem when he can't vent his emotions to the right people. You shouldn't hold on to people like that. You've had enough toxic people in your life."

"Can't you just shut up?!" Jace growled and I recoiled at the hostility in his tone. His pupils slid away from Isabelle and stayed on me for a split moment as I watched him out of the corner of my eye. I didn't know what he saw in my face, but he sighed in exhaustion and lowered his eyes remorsefully. "Please forget what I said," he pleaded, barely audible. "This trial is driving me crazy."

Oh, me too. It's not like I'm about to receive my own verdict soon. I said nothing and looked demonstratively past him to the Inquisitor who was standing in front of Adam. It had taken her a long time to get the Nephilim under control.

"Adam Demonhunter. You have implicated yourself as an accomplice in the abduction of a Nephilim, which is punishable. However, since you were not directly involved, your culpability is judged less severely than if you had been directly involved. Additionally, you violated the Accords by participating in the hunting and killing of Downworlders. Unlike your predecessors, you will not have your runes stripped, but you will lose your status as a full member of the Nephilim community. You will still be tolerated in Alicante but excluded from Clave votes until I or my successor decide otherwise. Furthermore, you are prohibited from holding any political office or leadership position within our organizations and institutes. You are also required to pay compensation to the families of your victims, the amount of which will be determined in a separate proceeding."

Although Adam got off more or less unpunished, his parents protested against Imogen's decision before she had even finished speaking. A protest that was viewed critically from many sides. Adam had been part of Blake's group and after the truth about his sadistic, sick character had come to light, Adam's family seemed to have fallen from grace with him. Especially considering that Adam was practically allowed to leave this assembly as a free man. The renunciation of political office and some compensation for pain and suffering. He had allowed me to be kidnapped and tortured and was now allowed to continue walking through this city like a free person. He had killed Shadowworlders and just had to compensate their families. I didn't know how to feel.

"What do you think?" Isabelle asked next to me.

I shook my head. I definitely didn't feel like laughing. "Is that fair?" I murmured quietly, more to myself than to her. "These images that I will never get out of my head compared to his punishment. The dead who left a hole in families and friendships compared to some money. Is this justice?"

"If you look at it that way, hardly any punishment is ever fair. If I kill someone, shouldn't I be punished to the same extent as what I did?" Isabelle was angry, that much was clear. But one could also sense her hesitation, reluctant to label Adam in her mind with too severe a judgment. It was something different when you knew the person personally. I could understand her emotional state.

I stared at Adam, who sat slumped and didn't move. Part of my heart clenched at the sight of him. The part that hadn't yet processed the fact that we were no longer friends. The part that still cared about him and saw him as someone I fought alongside in extreme situations. This part couldn't understand why we sat on separate benches, or why the bile rose in my stomach when I thought too long about who he actually was. I didn't hate him, no, I was more tormented by the truth of his existence. I wanted him to be the boy from my memories again.

"Eye for an eye." Jace gritted his teeth. I could feel the heat of rage radiating from him. " That's how it should be."

However, Should and Be rarely aligned in this world.

-

Well, well ... A lot happened in this chapter. Jace is in ... a mood. What do you think it is about? What do you think about the verdicts - especially Adam's? Did they get away hard enough? A comment or like would make my day! :D

Skyllen