Song inspiration: Let It Happen - Tame Impala (normal, slowed & Tiktok version)

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Chapter 70 – Regrets and Mournings

On the other side of the room, the fronts had hardened. Jace continued to kneel on the floor but had now raised his head and was intently watching what was happening in front of him. After I had just beheaded one of them, there were six of Jonathan's minions left. Some of them had their weapons drawn, others looked more like they were trying to escape.

The metallic stench of blood wafted across my nose like a curse. It surrounded us all like a constant reminder that we were all murderers, no matter what side we were on. With this knowledge, it penetrated deep into my clothes, skin and hair to turn my stomach with every breath.

I had picked Eosphoros off the ground in a second and lunged forward without warning. To the unscrupulous traitors who should not have the right to be Nephilim. Blake's followers, who would also have tortured me at the Ashdowns' estate if they had had the chance. My reserves of compassion had long since dried up. And so, I smashed my way through their ranks, without hold and without holding back – giving them exactly what they should expect from a Morgenstern. Isabelle joined me, fighting at my side. Imogen stayed with Jace to prevent another ambush.

And finally, when all of them were dead or had escaped, I ran to Jace and threw myself on the ground next to him. Onto the cooled adamant, onto the freshly warm blood. Imogen was about to apply an Iratze on him when I pressed the flat of my hand over the cut on his throat to stop the bleeding. It was no longer strong, would never have killed him, and yet it made bile rise in me with fear.

Jace turned his head to me and when our eyes met it seemed as if he could see all the pain racing through me. Despite his weakening state, he reached out to me and pulled me to his chest. The burning smell of a stele hung in the air and as Jace's fingers ran through my bloody, matted hair, the flow of blood beneath mine stopped.

The Iratze took effect and a breath later, the hold on my body tightened as Jace pressed me against him. His free hand dug into the fabric at my waist, and I felt a rush of warm air at the pit of my neck, escaping his nose as he brushed it against my skin.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into the roaring silence of the room. I felt as if a wall had been placed in front of my ears, muffling every sound to a minimum. But I didn't need that sense to feel the hot tears in the corners of my eyes – rolling down my cheeks, softening Jace's skin.

"It was the wrong decision," Jace replied weakly, but he couldn't stop the relief trembling in his muscles. Relieved because he was still alive. He then leaned his head back to look me in the eyes. Within his golden irises raged a devastating storm, corroded by torment and drenched in understanding. "But I would have made the same decision if the roles had been reversed."

I had chosen Jace and in doing so I had practically condemned the rest of the Nephilim to death. I had given Jonathan the Mortal Sword as long as he spared Jace. I had chosen one life over so many others because I didn't want to live without him. Certainly could. But I didn't want to. No longer.

And in that fatal moment I realized who exactly I actually was. What I was. My father's product. Molded in his own image. I was selfish – just like him. Because Valentine never cared about the collateral damage as long as he got what he wanted. And that's all I had just done. Under the guise of my feelings, I had saved Jace and doomed us all in the long run. My feelings were nothing but weakness. The same weakness that had prevented Valentine from letting go of Mellartach, even though he had lost his hand as a result.

"I killed us all. I sealed all of our fates." I didn't regret my decision. No. I would choose Jace again. Again and again. But I wasn't stupid enough to know what that meant. I knew the consequences and knew I would have to live with them.

"Nothing has changed, Clary," Isabelle remarked with a reserve I had never seen before. She stood to our left, looking down at Jace and me as we both sat in the blood of so many dead Shadowhunters. Her hazel eyes were clouded with a certainty that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "We are standing where we were yesterday before the Clave meeting. We can still beat your father."

"Isabelle is right," Imogen now chimed in, but her voice also sounded strangely alienated. Like they were both trying to comfort me and distort the truth for me. Even though I didn't understand why they did it, because my actions also meant their downfall. The Inquisitor's icy, blue-rimmed pupils were focused on Jace as she spoke – her words were only slightly louder than a murmur, but their content was aimed at me alone. "Nothing is lost yet."

I couldn't help but notice her searching eyes as they passed over Jace and me alike, trying to understand what this intimate embrace between us meant. Just like yesterday at the Clave meeting.

"They have a demon army," I replied, not breaking free from Jace's arms. I felt no shame in being close to him, regardless of whether Imogen approved of our bond or not. We had four days left before the doom would tear us apart, and I wanted to spend every second of it near Jace, no matter what she thought.

"That's a conversation for another time." Imogen shook off the reluctance like the worn skin of a snake and all that was left was new determination. She looked like she could go into battle right now and return victorious. And despite her age, which showed in the sharp wrinkles and gray hair, I believed that she would succeed. As long as it was every opponent in the world except Valentine.

Then, contrary to all my expectations, the Inquisitor held out her hand to me. I hesitated for a second before I grabbed it, and she hoisted me to my feet with all the strength reflected in her features. For a moment she stayed in that position: her rough, marked fingers wrapped around mine. She looked into my face and several emotions flickered across her own. Finally, she let go of me, gazed briefly at Jace and back at me. The determination had given way to an emotion I never dreamed I would ever see directed at me. Respect. Desperate, grateful, relieved respect.

"I realize it goes against my oath as my people would have to come first. Thank you, Clarissa. Thank you for saving my boy, even if it cost us our only advantage in this war. I'm glad you did, otherwise I would have had to expose myself as a traitor."

I couldn't help but stare at the Inquisitor with open dismay. She had sworn to protect her people upon taking office. She had sworn to the Archangel. And yet she stood in front of me and confessed that she would have acted exactly like me. She, who had been appointed to uphold these very oaths and laws. How ironic that she herself had been on the verge of following Malachi's example, but I couldn't judge her for it. Apparently, we were on the same side after all.

Imogen must have seen something flash across my features because she cleared her throat with enough arrogance as if her confession had never happened. She released my fingers, lifted her chin, and then scanned her shattered office. The light blue of her irises seemed even duller than usual, as if this collision with Jonathan had cost her a few years of life force. "Don't worry, I'm not a hypocrite," she said, as if she had read my every thought. "I will resign from my position if we survive this war. But for this fight the Nephilim will need me at the forefront. After that ..." She gradually trailed off and let her gaze wander to Jace, who staggered to his feet next to me. "After that, I couldn't care less about all this politics, as long as your father gets what he deserves."

Oh yes, the Inquisitor wouldn't rest until Valentine rested once and for all – and that meant nowhere else but underground. Taking him down was her life's work. Then as now. And after all the death I had experienced or escaped from, I understood why she would continue this hunt to the end. She and I had lost people who had meant everything to us. We were both consumed by revenge; her much deeper than me. Maybe it was her age. Or because she had no one left except for Jace.

But you have no one left, a voice whispered in my head.

We were more alike than we would ever admit. I could only hope that I would be spared her fate.

oOo

I was already lying in bed, my eyelids heavy from the burden of the past day, when there was a knock on the door. A quick glance at the bedside clock told me that it wasn't too late. But the fight against Jonathan had drained me so much that when I had returned to the Lightwoods' mansion, I had just taken a quick bath and then had immediately gotten ready for bed.

"Come in."

The wooden door slid open with a creak and a head of golden hair entered the sparse light of the only candle that still burned and cast dancing shadows on the walls. It filled the room with the faint aroma of melting wax. Jace looked around in surprise for a moment until he spotted my figure under the duvet. When our eyes crossed, he seemed to hesitate. In a hectic movement he pushed the door shut and then leaned his back against it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were already asleep." Jace ran his hand through his hair, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he was nervous. His feet stayed where they were. From the distance I could barely make out his features through the dim light.

"I wasn't sleeping," I replied, sitting up slightly on the pillows. "Is everything all right?"

He nodded, only to pause in the gesture. Then he took a few steps into the room. "I ..." He hesitated again, which made me suspicious. Now that he was standing at the end of my bed, I could see the barely visible scar on his throat, reflected silver in the candlelight. By tomorrow morning it would be completely gone.

A frustrated sigh escaped Jace's lips, and he shook himself as if he were trying to get over it. "Today was ... intense," he admitted sheepishly, as if, as a Shadowhunter, he shouldn't have such feelings. "Kneeling there on the floor, with the blade at my throat ... I thought I was going to die. I was absolutely convinced."

"But you're alive," I replied gently and beckoned him over.

Jace came around the bed and sat down on the mattress next to me. His fingers automatically moved to mine, brushing against my skin and burying themselves between my fingers. He stared at our clasped hands for a moment until he raised his head and our eyes met. "I thought I was going to die," he repeated seriously, squeezing my hand tightly, as if afraid I would otherwise be torn away from him. "In those moments, I went through all the things I haven't experienced yet. Things I actually wanted to achieve in my life. Now I've survived, but we still only have four days left before we have to face death again. The fact that I'm running out of time terrifies me."

A premonition crept to the surface of my mind. For fear of making a fool of myself through false fantasies, I didn't draw any conclusions. Instead, I agreed with him. "We have four days to come up with a plan that will turn the tide."

Jace nodded in agreement but didn't seem to focus on that. "I only have four days left to complete my list of things I want to do before I die. And you're on that list." A mischievous smile tinged with a hint of nervousness lit up his symmetrical face. "In fact, you're at the top of the list."

"I'm honored," I said, holding a hand to my heart, a hint of amusement in my tone. But finally, I got serious. "And what exactly does this list contain?"

"I love you, Clary." Jace said it so bluntly that I almost jumped in surprise. I wasn't sure I would ever get used to the sound of those words. Apparently, my reaction didn't go unnoticed by him, because the smile on his mouth softened. But beneath the genuine joy, I could see the gnawing fear that had gripped his heart since his near demise. "As much as I want a future with you, I'm not sure the Archangel will let us have that opportunity. We don't have much time left and I want to spend every free minute of it with you."

My breath hitched as I let his words sink in. He was right, of course. We had four safe days left and everything that came after would depend on the outcome of the war. Worst case scenario, Jace would be dead, and I would be my brother's prisoner. I would have to live without him for the rest of my life. My brain couldn't conjure up this image in my mind. It seemed absurd and impossible, even if it was nothing more than a defensive reaction on my part.

When I finally realized why exactly he had come so late, I released our hands and moved to the side to make room for him. Jace watched me with unfathomable golden eyes until I patted the empty mattress between us with the palm of my hand. My bed was big enough for three, perfect for two.

Jace was wearing the same shirt he had worn when I had stayed with him last night. Last night. This day felt so long, which made it seem impossible that I had spent the last night in his bed. But that was exactly how it had been. The conversation with Adam had been this morning. The party that Isabelle and I had planned to go to was probably still in full swing.

Jace pulled aside the blanket that was covering my body and slipped into the warmth before spreading it over both of us like a shield – we against the rest of the world. His body smelled of fresh shampoo and sweet maple and catapulted me into a sphere of peace where my heart finally didn't have to run a marathon to keep up. His fingers gently stroked my upper arms like a feather touch, tickling my senses and making my cheeks glow. Eventually, he pulled me closer to him until the tips of our noses brushed.

For a moment I didn't dare breathe, then I wrapped my arms around his torso and pressed my cheek against the crook of his neck – the spot where the blade had torn his skin just a few hours before.

Lying like that, being so close to another person, was unfamiliar and strange – and the best of all feelings at the same time. In all my years at my father's estate, I had never even thought that this closeness with anyone was possible. We had been trained solely for the war that was on the horizon. Nothing else had mattered to Valentine. Which is why Jonathan wasn't able to even understand my connection to Jace – because he'd never experienced anything like that himself.

"I thought I was going to die," Jace murmured again into my hair, drawing circles on my back. "I was so scared. I've never been as afraid in my life as today."

"I was scared too," I admitted in the safety of the darkness and listened to the blood that was now pulsing steadily and rhythmically through his veins again. "I thought he was going to kill you. I don't know what I would have done if he had gone through with it."

He. Jonathan. Nobody else. Always just Jonathan.

"Part of me would have rather died than put that damn sword in his hands." I knew he was serious. I hadn't missed his desperate look when Jonathan had given Imogen the choice. "But another part wanted to live. When they dragged you away, I realized what it would mean not to hand him the sword."

"I could have handled them," I lied. In the seconds after Jonathan had slit Jace's throat, I had been beside myself. Completely hysterical and unable to think clearly. How many could I have actually killed before they would have overwhelmed me?

Jace ignored my statement and pressed his forehead against mine. The candlelight was just enough to make his bright irises stand out from his dark pupils. The fear I found there was so real it gave me chills. "Seeing you defenseless drives me crazy every time. I couldn't risk them harming you just because I wanted to die with honor – even if it made me a monster for putting your life above everyone else's."

"If you're a monster, then I'm one too," I replied quietly, looking down without moving my head. "I gave Jonathan the Mortal Sword. I condemned us all because I wanted to save you at all costs. Your grandmother too."

Two fingers reached up to my chin, holding it in place so I couldn't back away. My eyes snapped back to Jace. His expression had changed. Grief had shaken off fear. "Then I guess all three of us are selfish monsters," he sighed, and I felt his exhaustion radiating off into me.

We've been awake too long. This week had been chaos. From the ball to the kidnapping, Blake's death, the trial and Valentine's appearance to the fight against Jonathan and his henchmen. And then there were so many little things that had happened, like the night in prison or the conversation with Adam. So much had happened that it couldn't all fit into one week. And yet it did – somehow. And until the end of the war there would be more.

"We need to set it right again." A statement that would cost us so much energy. But I wouldn't do anything less. I would spend every free minute preparing for the final battle against my family. "We have to be prepared for what awaits us in four days."

"We will." Jace sounded confident and closed his eyelids. "We will win this war, Clary, and then we will explore this."

Explore this. It sounded strange. "You said you loved me." I almost choked on the words and Jace opened his eyelids again, grinning. "And I ... I said the same thing to you. Now what does that mean? Does it even mean anything? Do these words have any value at all?"

Puzzled and slightly shocked, Jace raised his blond eyebrows, his tiredness gone for the moment. "You bet it means something," he replied with such authority that it sounded accusatory. "Did you think I said that for fun? That I kiss you for fun? Does it mean anything to you?"

"It does," I replied promptly and without thinking. "I don't have many people in my life anymore, hardly anyone to be precise. I ... I've loved once before. A false love based on insincerities and secrets. I was deceived once, so I'm definitely not going to throw it around. For a long time, I wasn't sure if ... if I could ever give this love again. I am who I am. I've been hated for so long that I've almost resigned myself to being alone for the rest of my life. So yes, loving you means a lot to me. But that doesn't mean I'm not scared at the same time. That it will break – again. Or that I'm just interpreting it wrong. Social interaction isn't my strong suit."

"What we have will not break," Jace whispered so forcefully and confidently that I held my breath. "I will always be here for you. By your side. It doesn't matter if the Archangel personally wants to break us apart. I made the mistake of letting you down once and I will regret it until the end of my life. I won't keep secrets from you, you will always be the one I share mine with. I will do everything to prove myself worthy of your love. I will win this war because I have to. I have fears too, but as long as we're together, we can't be beaten."

I kissed him. A single kiss on the lips. Deep and heartfelt, trying to make my gratitude clear to him. Because none of this was a given. We had a long, rocky road behind us. It could all have been completely different – so much worse. They could still see me as a traitor. I could still live an existence in solitude, away from this society and without friends. But somehow, I had managed to turn the tide. Because of the few people like Isabelle who were willing to look behind the forbidding facade.

Jace returned the kiss unhurriedly and as we broke apart, he pulled away from my body to lie on his back. His left arm continued to rest around my shoulders, his fingers making faint contact at my elbow. I rested my head on his upper arm as I followed his example and stared at the ceiling.

"I don't think I've ever enjoyed anything more than just lying here with you." Jace's whisper felt like a warm caress to my skin – soft and weightless, invisible but noticeable. His words like pollen blown by the wind, brushing flowers and grasses with floating touches but never settling.

Just over 24 hours ago, Jace had confessed the true extent of his feelings to me. And even though it was only the second time we were lying together like this, it already felt like a well-rehearsed, well-established routine. I inched my head toward him to look at him. In the flickering candlelight, his eyelashes appeared even longer than usual. His eyelids were closed, and his features were relaxed. His light, easy smile was framed by golden curls.

He was beautiful.

The realization hit me out of the blue. And although it wasn't the first time that I noticed his appearance, it was only now that I became fully aware of how handsome he actually was – now that he was freed from all the different emotions and only composure remained.

I had read dozens of books on psychology and human behavior, so I knew the importance of beauty in every society. Beautiful people were considered more competent, more intelligent and friendlier. Not based on any action, but just because of their looks. Beauty came with numerous privileges, opened numerous doors, and was associated with power – even in reproduction.

During my time in Alicante, what had stood out to me about Jace, besides his former hatred for me, had primarily been his arrogance. He was used to getting his way and I couldn't help but wonder what this meant on a personal level. Yesterday, Isabelle had already hinted that Jace could be a player when he wanted to – that he flirted and was always successful. A comment that Jace had acknowledged with a self-satisfied grin.

My eyes were fixated on Jace's angelic face and the thought that I wasn't the only person who had ever seen him so exuberant did something to my stomach that I couldn't explain.

I am jealous of Adam, he had confessed to me yesterday. Every time he looks at you, I feel the urge to wring his neck. Was that jealousy? I hadn't seen Jace with another woman once and Isabelle hadn't mentioned anyone either. So how could I be jealous? But just the thought of him holding someone else the same way he held me – giving someone else the look he usually reserved for me – made my heart sink. Like a sponge that you wrung out with all your might to squeeze every last drop of water out of its pores. A type of pain I had never felt before and yet it left me breathless.

"Are you staying?" I asked into the silence that the night brought with it.

Jace stretched his body like a cat and gave me a quick sideways glance through his eyelids. He was so tired that he was already half asleep. "Obviously."

The word that came off my tongue next had nothing in common with the Clarissa Morgenstern I had believed myself to be until now. Not to mention the ambiguity. "Promise?"

Despite his sleepiness, Jace must have noticed this unusualness too, as he raised his eyebrows in confusion without opening his eyes. "Always," he promised, even though the word sounded half slurred.

This place had changed me. It hadn't made me weaker, not directly. It had opened me up to alternatives to the violence that had been my daily routine until then. It had shown me that dependence on others was not synonymous with weakness, but with trust. With security.

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First Thursday update! Might there be peace on the horizon between Imogen and Clary? I wanted to give you some Clace in this chapter, a small pause from the last action-packed chapters! I'm still unsure if I'm good at writing them as a pair, after there's no more slowburn involved. Am I keeping up alright or do you have some points of improvement? I'd be very interested in your thoughts about that ...

Skyllen