Chapter 72 – War Arrangements

--- 3 days before the start of the war. ---

"I'm not too keen on having to sit through another Clave meeting," Isabelle grumbled annoyed, blowing a strand of charcoal-colored hair out of her face. "This is the second unscheduled meeting this week."

"They won't waste time on bureaucratic talk this time. Imogen knows they'll have to bring out all the guns as soon as possible to have a chance."

Isabelle gave me a sideways glance and snorted indignantly. "You sound like we've already lost."

Instead of answering, I pursed my lips in indecision and continued to stare intensely at the podium where the Inquisitor was placing her notes at that moment. I couldn't suppress the nervous cracking of my knuckles as I ignored the rest of the packed hall.

They were all here. Shadowhunters, warlocks, vampires and werewolves. The Clave chamber was packed – there were more life forms here than ever before. Even if I had been deaf in both ears, I could still smell it. Despite the cool spring weather, the large room had warmed up quickly, thanks in no small part to the sheer number of wolves with their higher body temperatures.

Less than two hours had passed since I had woken up from my nightmare with a pounding heart and a new fear in my veins. Now I was standing at the lowest point of the Clave chamber with Isabelle and Jace, to the side of the thrones and the podium. Today tradition was broken, which I recognized because the new Council, led by Alec and the representatives of the Shadowworlders, had gathered at the Inquisitor's call to discuss among themselves.

The Council had been meeting for half the night and by all appearances they still hadn't come to an agreement. Whatever they were discussing. Probably our imminent demise. More specifically, how they were going to prevent it. The Inquisitor had also attended the Council meeting, which we only knew because Jace and I had gone to see her with a tired and irritated Isabelle in tow. She had only given us a few minutes of her time and had then immediately disappeared back into the room, from which an unbridled and chaotic flood of chatter could have been heard.

Imogen had been too busy to talk to us in depth about the mirror. Something that worried me. A nagging voice in my head told me that they were setting the wrong priorities in this conflict. Because the Nephilim had approached every battle in the past with seraph-blade and steles.

The hall smelled different than usual. Usually, the most dominant smell was the wet earth that came with snow-trampled boots. Now that most of the snow had melted within the city, the actual smell of the Gard came to the fore. The low humidity coupled with the high ceilings and old brickwork reminded me of the Institute in New York and its church-like entrance area.

I had long since forgotten that Isabelle had been talking to me when suddenly a whispering voice cut in: "Or Clary is just being realistic."

We turned our heads and Magnus Bane was strolling toward us, Alec at his side, his arms folded across his chest and a tense expression on his face. Next to him, Magnus seemed almost carefree – which, however, would be true for most people. Magnus's orange-yellow cat eyes flashed over Isabelle and me and he nodded to Jace as if they were old acquaintances. His midnight blue jacket reflected the witch-lights with a metallic shimmer and the turquoise nuances in the tips of his dark hair made it seem as if we were at a party and not moments before the start of a meeting that would decide all of our lives.

"So that's the decision the Council has made? That we don't have to fight because we're going to lose anyway?" Disbelief flared up in Isabelle's irises. They were a deep brown that was almost black. Like non-dairy coffee. Judging by her determined expression, she would throw herself into battle even against the Council's explicit orders. Even if it was just to satisfy her conscience. I admired her for that.

"Of course we fight," Magnus replied, his tone now less amused. His facial muscles had twisted into a strained mask, and he looked not at us but at Imogen as he continued. "We Shadowworlders have always rebelled against tyrants, and we will not stop today."

"The question is, what are our chances?," Alec said, scratching the back of his head. "We're outnumbered by the numbers, and not because about twenty Shadowhunters have already deserted us. The problem is the Angel Blade. If we don't get hold of it before all hell breaks loose, they'll just summon three new ones for every fallen demon. Their army has no end."

Jace, next to me, was audibly gnashing his teeth. He was standing furthest from Magnus and Alec, on my left. I didn't have to turn to him to know that his hands were clenched into fists. That anger needed to be channeled – turned into his power. Ever since I had woken up this morning, I saw nothing but strategy in everything and everyone. I couldn't think normally anymore, without making plans at every corner.

"Have they all gone over to Valentine?" Jace asked tightly. I leaned slightly towards him and let the back of my hand brush against his fist. His eyes, which had been fixed on Alec and Magnus in frustration, suddenly snapped to me. The heat in them lost some of its intensity and he relaxed his furrowed brows.

Alec shrugged, unsuspecting, and rolled his head back helplessly, as if the ceiling would help him think clearly. He looked exhausted — his hair disheveled, his clothes rumpled, his movements sluggish. Had he even slept? "We don't know for sure, but it's probably best to assume so. We don't know if they'll fight or stay out of the conflict. All we know is that Valentine told them to come to the northern edge of the Brocelind forest."

"The mirror will be somewhere beyond the borders of his army," I muttered to myself, more to me than to them.

"Ah, the mirror," Magnus sighed with a mischievous smile and suspiciously narrowed eyes as he watched Jace and me. "A secret so closely guarded that you yourself simply forgot about it while keeping it. I have to give you credit for that, Nephilim, when it comes to secrecy, no one can hold a candle to you."

Four pairs of eyes pierced the warlock without a spark of amusement. Finally, Isabelle let out a resigned breath. "Are there no legends about the mirror in the Shadow World? Perhaps there is something about it in one of your books."

Magnus raised his eyebrows expressively. "Oh yes, you're right. The Silent Brothers have no idea, but Magnus Bane's books certainly know more, of course." His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and the corners of Alec's mouth actually hinted at a smile. "In my books, there are quite a few legends that your species has forgotten over the years of arrogance, but we're talking about the three Mortal Instruments here."

Isabelle raised her arms defensively. "Alright, I got it. Then maybe we should contact the Brotherhood directly."

My muscles stiffened beneath me and now it was Jace who rubbed the back of his hand against mine reassuringly. Before I could say anything that would have revealed my fear of the Brothers, Jace interrupted me. "Alec and I will take care of that," he stated, giving his Parabatai a penetrating look. Alec nodded in agreement and then ran his hand through his jet-black, dull hair again. "You and Clary should still explore the library. We can never be too safe."

"Sounds like a plan," Isabelle replied, a knowing grin playing across her long features, and out of the corner of my eye I could feel her attention on me. My eyes met hers and I could see the silent joy lighting up in hers as she looked between Jace and me. I furrowed my brow in silence, putting all my will into the wordless communication of my message. Don't you dare say a word. Her grin grew and I rolled my eyes.

When I noticed that the others were following our toneless banter, I pulled away from her and cleared my throat. Isabelle giggled and I sighed to myself. "We'll have to postpone that until tomorrow. I promised Luke that I'd give him another training session today. The Shadowworlders are clearly in the majority. They need to know as much about the enemy as possible."

Magnus nodded in agreement and turned serious. "The warlocks will also join you today. Rumors about the lost Soul Sword are already making the rounds and we must prevent this from turning into a panic. We must keep them busy and the best way to do that is to prepare them for the emergency."

"I'm going to need more support than just Isabelle," I told Alec, who organized the training sessions together with Luke. "So far, Adam has always been there to help me while Isabelle has taken care of the vampires. And now that we have to look after the warlocks as well, I'll need more volunteers."

Jace stepped into my field of vision and stared at me disapprovingly, only to brush imaginary dust particles from his shoulders in a mock arrogant gesture. "You can just ask me for help directly, you know that, right? If anyone is made to rub their skills in other people's faces, it's me."

"Oh, naturally," Isabelle snorted, bursting into fake laughter. She tossed her long, shiny hair back and patted her foster brother's shoulder in a condescending manner. "Jace Herondale. The perfect Shadowhunter."

Jace showed his sparkling white teeth and bowed slightly. "Not just perfect. More beautiful than the Council allows, and sexy to boot. Half the audience will faint with admiration as soon as I take off my shirt."

Alec and I simultaneously widened our eyes in disbelief, and Jace looked offended. Then he pierced me with an accusing look. "You should have my back." His tone had risen several octaves, and his hand shot dramatically to his chest. "Your rejection breaks my heart, even though I know deep down you would swoon too."

I burst out laughing and for a split second a genuine smile flickered across Jace's face before he slipped back into his role. "You'll soon realize you won't be the only handsome man around," I replied with a mischievous grin. "Have you forgotten that vampires are blessed with supernatural beauty?"

"I knew your feminine instincts weren't completely lost, Clary!" Isabelle exclaimed triumphantly, clapping her hands. She put an arm around my shoulders and stuck her tongue out at Jace. "There are actually some really good-looking vampires here."

I wrapped my arm around her waist and looked up at Isabelle. When our eyes met, I could read her thoughts. "Raphael," we said at the same time and began to giggle in agreement.

This small, insignificant moment meant the world to me. I wasn't a funny person, and I wasn't someone who laughed a lot. If at all in the last few weeks. But this moment, with Isabelle holding my arm, flooded me with a joy that I couldn't name. This friendship with her had developed into something valuable and beautiful in the last few weeks, and I couldn't yet really understand what it meant. All I knew was that Isabelle's closeness brought out a new side in me. A colorful, happy side that I might have known better if I hadn't been leading a completely different life until recently.

Being Isabelle's friend was a gift so precious and unique that it left me speechless. So I didn't stop laughing and opened myself to the pleasant warmth in my stomach that had grown inside me over time and still felt a little strange to me.

"If everyone on the Clave had such a delusional self-perception as you, the Shadowhunters would have already lost to Valentine eighteen years ago," Magnus commented, and Alec almost choked.

Jace's pout deepened. I gently placed a hand on his arm and smiled. "I'm glad you want to help me."

"Hopefully you'll be a worthier opponent in the showcase fights than Adam," Isabelle whispered, and I kicked her in response.

"The future generation of Nephilim," Magnus murmured even more quietly and shook his head.

The remnants of the Council that had been standing with Imogen finally dispersed, and before any of us could respond to Magnus's comment, she spoke up. Her eagerness to speak was evident. Her fingers drummed impatiently on the edge of the massive podium. Before she opened her mouth, her gaze swept across our row. Then she took one last deep breath and confessed to the assembled Underworld that the Angel Blade was lost.

The chaos that followed exceeded my expectations. Imogen had not gone into detail, had not told the packed hall about my involvement in the loss of Mellartach. I was spared the angry stares, which was a relief. In fact, she had barely revealed anything about the previous evening. Only that Jonathan had come to take it and the defense had succumbed to him.

She read the names of all those who had fallen, and of the traitors who had joined Jonathan in overpowering us. The scattered remnants of Blake's group. Those who were not dead had fled Alicante. A pack of werewolves had found their remains a few miles outside the city limits at dawn. Jonathan had indeed kept our agreement and finished off the last of his minions.

Blake Ashdown's renewed influence angered the crowd, bringing Cynthia Ashdown into the spotlight for a second time. I was surprised that she was still sitting here and had not joined my father long ago. Unless she was waiting to grill us for information.

Adam was sitting near her, in the ranks of the Cohort that had attacked Jace and me the day before yesterday after we had left the prison. The sight was like a stab in the heart, even though I had actually sworn not to let Adam get close to me again. But that's how it was with people you cared about. Even after months, Jonathan still got to me – he always would. So I couldn't expect my friendship with Adam to stop meaning anything to me overnight.

Throughout the entire session, Adam avoided my contact, resisting my gaze that tried to pierce him questioningly. He was sitting with his family. I shouldn't be surprised, after all he had confessed to me that his parents were conservative. But radically conservative? When they had always been considered diplomats? After all, Adam had only ended up at the Toronto Institute because the Ashdowns and Demonhunters were friends. I should have recognized the warning signs much earlier. Instead, I had allowed myself to be blinded. By the hope of friendship. By the hope of a connection that I had longed for after years of isolation.

Only a day had passed since Adam had fallen to his knees in front of me with tears in the corners of his eyes. Pleading. Looking for forgiveness and a second chance. I hadn't had time to think about it yet. His forest green irises were lowered humbly onto his lap, unlike usual, when he had always listened to these meetings with open ears and the utmost attention. But Adam was no longer part of the Nephilim community. The Inquisitor had taken away his voice and his rights. He was not allowed to do more than listen.

Having learned that I knew nothing about Adam, I couldn't tell if he was putting on another act or if he was being truly submissive. I didn't know if he was avoiding my eyes because he was ashamed of what he had done or because any contact he avoided with me meant his lies were less likely to be exposed.

He wasn't part of the remnants of Blake's group that turned against us. He wasn't there to stand in your way. He didn't know what they had planned. My mind – the part that clung to his friendship and couldn't let go – sought ways to not further tarnish the remaining white on his stained vest.

The fact was that I was too emotional to let him go. I hated myself for it. I wanted to forget Adam, push him to the back of my mind and finally move on. I wished it were that easy. I didn't understand why he had left me in such a deep pit of emotions – how he had gotten under my skin like that. Only now that he was gone had I really realized that depth.

He was your first friend, your only ally when the whole world turned against you, whispered the voice in my head that clenched painfully and yearningly when I wanted to let go. He was there when your mother died. He was there when they stripped you naked before the Clave. He believed you when everyone else shook their heads in disdain.

Friend. Spy. Traitor. Liar. Or friend after all? Even if what Adam said was true and he really only wanted to be my friend from now on, the thicket of his lies would prevent him from easily regaining my trust. He had dug a hole for me, but he had dug himself an equally deep one, right next to mine.

"You're staring," Isabelle whispered next to me, and I flinched so violently that my boots dragged on the stone floor. In the silence of Imogen's speech, several heads turned towards us. Only his remained intently lowered.

Caught, my eyes darted to Isabelle and only when I blinked did I feel the effort with which they had bored into Adam. I sighed to myself and massaged my temples.

"I understand how you feel," she continued in a hushed voice as, in the background, Imogen and the Council started to present something. I knew I should be listening, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. "At least I think I am."

"What do you mean?" I replied as coolly as possible, which of course was pointless. It had taken Isabelle a while, but by now she was pretty good at reading my subconscious body language. She was an excellent observer.

In response, she exhaled through her nose – a sound that made her sound indignant. "He was your best friend before we became friends. He was your first bond outside of your own family. The first relationship you chose without your father breathing down your neck. Losing him must feel like someone is pulling the rug out from under you. At least, I imagine that's what it would feel like for me if you betrayed me like that."

It took a lot of strength to swallow the lump in my throat. "I would never betray you like that."

"That's not the point." There was a vulnerability in her voice that made me look up at her. Our eyes met and Isabelle gave me an uncharacteristically shy smile. "You're my first real friend. Sure, I've met a lot of Shadowhunters, but because of my parents' role in the Uprising, we were always tied to New York. Aside from Alec, Jace and Max, I think I used to spend more time with Shadowworlders." Her smile widened into a grin. "I don't often talk about my feelings, but you should know that your friendship really means a lot to me. Sure, I would still have my brothers, but it's not the same."

I grabbed Isabelle's hand and squeezed it. "I'm probably even worse at revealing my feelings than you are," I murmured and she giggled in agreement. "But I wasn't alone when Adam betrayed me. You were there, Jace too. Even Alec. You all came looking for me together and left the protective walls of Alicante to save me. Adam may be gone, but I'm no longer alone."

"You two bring me to tears," Jace purred from my left.

"Oh yes, my heart is positively aching," Alec remarked from the right, his voice a little too dry.

In one swift movement, Isabelle slapped her brother on the back of his neck, and he gasped angrily. Maryse leaned forward from the bench behind us and put her hands on her children's shoulders to remind them where they were. The two fell into obedient stillness and turned their heads forward again, not without glaring at each other one last time. The sight made me smile and at the same time filled my chest with longing. This was how a family should behave.

From my other side, Jace moved closer to me and rested his arm on the armrest behind my back. I turned toward him and his searching, deep pupils scanned my face. "This never has to end." Our eyes locked, unable to tear themselves apart. I could see the same longing flaring in his irises that had not yet fully left my own veins. It was so easy to forget that Jace himself had only a half-intact family — that Isabelle and Alec did not share his blood, and Imogen was the last remnant of the Herondales besides him. "We are all one family."

His grandmother seemed to see it differently. Her sharp voice cut through the hall like iron, severing the harmony that had surrounded Jace and me just a moment ago. "Clarissa," her tone was imperious and almost angry, and both Jace and I turned to her, only to find that hundreds of pairs of eyes were watching us – that hundreds of pairs of eyes were noticing the closeness between us, the familiarity with which he leaned down to me. I put a mask of seriousness on my face and met Imogen's intense gaze with an accusatory stare. "Clarissa will spend the rest of today assisting Luke Garroway in overseeing the training of the Shadowworlders. Due to her experience, I have authorized her to independently assign the warriors to the available positions that need to be filled after consulting with the Council."

She did it on purpose. Just as she had always deliberately pushed me onto thin ice. And for the fraction of a day, I had actually believed we were on a good path. I had no idea what the Inquisitor was talking about. It was true that I was supposed to train the Shadowworlders, but that I was supposed to assign them to certain positions was new. Nevertheless, I managed a brief nod. Most likely, she was simply punishing me for not listening. For better or worse, my own fault.

As their war planning continued, it became clear to me that by positions, they meant the various roles within our makeshift army. They had to reinforce the border guards, who would be the first line of defense in the event of a surprise attack. They had to find soldiers who excelled in both defense and offense. Then there were the various battalions for the real fight: the first battalion as the first attack, all the way down to the last battalion as the last line of defense. They had to select scouts who could sneak behind enemy lines to get information. So many possible advantages to gain in battle. But it all came down to the cadre, to their skills.

And today I would assess this together with Jace, Isabelle and Luke. A task I didn't want. A task that entailed responsibility and results. A task that was so crucial to life and death that I might as well have been appointed commander of the Shadowworlders. It was unfair and frightening and, above all, unavoidable because only I knew Valentine and Jonathan. I had been trained for eighteen years to fight this war from the other perspective. And it was too late for my father to throw everything out the window.

I had no say in the matter of the Shadowhunters themselves. That would be handled by the experienced and battle-trained soldiers from Imogen's inner circle. Men and women who had already been in battle dozens of times. The only reason I had been assigned the Shadowworlders was that very few of them were battle-tested and even fewer Nephilim wanted to take them on. They could have let Luke decide on his own, but it seemed they trusted the daughter of their archenemy more than a creature with demon blood. A typical Clave decision and a clear blow against the Circle. But Luke and I got along well. We would have no problem finding common ground. I trusted his experience and his knowledge of the Shadowworlders.

Finally, there were other matters to plan that were only indirectly related to the war itself. Not everyone in the city could join the worriers. Alicante was full of children, from infants to teenagers – I myself had only come of age six months ago. While the adults would fight on the battlefield for the survival of the Shadow World, all the children would be evacuated to the Accords Hall.

The thought turned my stomach. The images from my dream – of a shattered and demolished Accords Hall – entered my mind. If Jonathan were to win, what would he do with all those children? Would he turn them into his slaves, strip them of any affiliation with their families, impose his values on them?

There was no point in resisting these images. The children had to find safety somewhere and what better place to go than the heart of the city?

The fact that protecting the children was the top priority was probably the only point on which the entire assembly agreed. And so the issue was already ticked off after a few people volunteered to help protect them.

The next problem on the agenda caused everyone even more headaches.

"We don't yet have any clear figures on how many members of our community left us after Valentine's ultimatum." The Inquisitor's features had hardened into a landscape of ice and storm. Her eyebrows formed deep furrows on her forehead. An image that reminded me of how merciless she usually was. In the last few days, I had almost forgotten this side of her. "As of now, we have to account for nearly thirty Nephilim who have joined Valentine. I can't help but notice that they have all drawn attention to the Cohort's goals in particularly ... striking ways in recent weeks."

Certainly not just the remnants of Blake's group. There were still many who had attacked Jace and me outside the prison. With just under a thousand Nephilim, thirty might not seem like a lot at first glance, but it was three percent of the population. And only a whole day had passed. Besides, you only had to look at Cynthia Ashdown and the people around her to know that they were not going to fight with us. Whatever else they were doing here, they were not going into battle alongside the Shadowworlders.

Judging by the looks of many others in the room, they seemed to think the same thing. You could practically feel the negative energy spreading through the rows. It wasn't long before the first Shadowhunter jumped up and accused them – especially Blake's mother – of betrayal. The first stone had been thrown and more and more voices were raised in agreement.

The Cohort certainly had influence, but in the past few days their credibility had suffered from revelation after revelation. And rightly so. And now that my father was practically standing at the city gates with his army of demons and everyone being besieged by nerves and fear down to their very bones, we needed a common enemy. Just as I had been the scapegoat at the beginning, because the real puppet master was always out of reach.

"Quiet!" Imogen thundered across the vast room. I was sure she was using a voice amplification rune to make herself heard, because everyone in the first twenty rows winced in pain at the volume of her voice.

Jace's fingers brushed over my shoulder, and we involuntarily moved closer together, startled. Once the false danger had passed, neither of us wanted to move away from the other again.

"You feel threatened and I understand that. We are weakened by the lack of a Consul. And before we elect a new one today, I want to announce the implementation of a new regulation that affects this. Effective immediately, all individuals who join Valentine Morgenstern will be classified as war criminals after our victory. Whether they fight alongside him or not. Anyone who leaves this city is automatically a traitor to our community and as such will be held accountable to the full extent of the law."

This brought mostly affirmative reactions. Some of the Shadowhunters who had risen applauded in affirmation. But my focus was on Adam and Adam alone. And while the Cohort members around him partly twisted their mouths or frowned, he continued to stare at his hands in his lap, but his eyes widened in an expression that seemed almost concerned.

It wasn't proof. It wasn't an admission. But it was a hint. Whatever that emotion meant, I didn't have time to deal with it.

The Cohort didn't dare to publicly criticize or reject the Inquisitor's ruling. Imogen wasn't allowed to pass any laws or regulations without the approval of the Clave; she needed the majority of the people. The Cohort was far from being able to challenge anything. So they decided to remain silent. They would now have to think carefully about whether they were prepared to throw all security overboard for my father.

Without any reaction, Imogen immediately moved on to the next and final item on the agenda. I admired the speed and agility with which she handled the meeting. The last item on the agenda was the election of the Consul. The opposite pole of the Inquisitor. The highest-ranking official of the Clave, who advised the Inquisitor and had decision-making power in disputes between Shadowhunters.

Isabelle turned to her father, who was sitting one row behind us next to Maryse and Max. "Are you going to run for election?" she whispered to her father.

Almost imperceptibly, Robert Lightwood shook his head. Since I moved into the guest room in his estate, I had exchanged very few sentences with him. He spent most of his time either in his office or at the Gard. Actually, he and Maryse were the heads of the Institute in New York, but I didn't know what business they had in Idris.

"Why?" Isabelle asked. "You would be a good Consul."

Maryse shot her a look that was half warning, half penetrating, but Robert's face barely twitched. "With our connections to Valentine, I would not be appointed Consul. Especially not after Malachi turned out to be a traitor."

His statement seemed to affect Isabelle, and I thought back to our conversation a few weeks ago when we had been training in her back garden. She had been worried about her parents – about the Lightwoods' standing. The fact that my mere presence seemed to damage their reputation and yet they had taken me in gnawed at my heart. I was sure that if Robert had had his way, they would have turned my mother and me away in New York. Maryse must have really liked my mother at some point in the past.

In the end, only a few people came forward for the post of Consul. The Cohort didn't even try to put forward a candidate. Judging by the look on Adam's father's face, it seemed to annoy him.

The election dragged on and the Shadowworlders present stared around the room in boredom. A new Consul had no meaning for them – especially not so close to the war, when Imogen played a much more important role.

This time, Imogen allowed me to vote. A decision that, while I was pleased, didn't really help me. I didn't know any of the candidates personally, and my father's memorized knowledge of them didn't help me much except for their names.

Finally, Imogen announced the results of the election. Jia Penhallow won with a clear majority of votes. All I knew about her was that she ran the Institute in Beijing together with her husband Patrick Penhallow. The Shadowhunters seemed happy with their choice, as did the Lightwoods.

"They are friends of ours," Isabelle explained, turning to me. "Their daughter Aline is our age. They campaigned for mercy towards our family after the Uprising. They are the only reason we weren't hit as hard as Hodge."

I nodded understandingly. "So she will make a good Consul?"

"Definitely."

"Then I can only hope that she won't show the same leniency towards my family."

-

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