Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices 1)
On the other side, a green lawn sloped down to the Herondale manor, a pile of white and tawny stone. The grass was sparkling with dew under the starlight and starred with the white flowers that grew only in Idris.
"And that constellation right there, that's the Rabbit. See how it has ears?" It was Jace's voice. He and Clary were sitting in the grass, shoulder to shoulder. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and Clary was in her nightgown, Jace's jacket around her shoulders. Jace was pointing at the sky.
"I'm pretty sure there's no Rabbit constellation," Clary said. She hadn't changed as much as Jace had in the past years--she was still slight, her red hair bright as Christmas, her small face freckled and thoughtful. She had her head against Jace's shoulder.
"Sure there is," he said, and as the starlight touched his pale curls, Emma felt a faint flutter of her old crush. "And that one there, that's the Hubcap. And there's the Great Pancake."
"I'm going back inside," Clary said. "I was promised an astronomy lesson."
"What? Sailors used to navigate by the Great Pancake," said Jace, and Clary shook her head and started to stand up. Jace grabbed her ankle and she laughed and tumbled over on top of him, and then they were kissing and Emma froze, because what had been a casual moment, one she could have interrupted with a friendly hello, had suddenly become something else.
Jace rolled over on top of Clary in the grass. She had her arms wrapped around him, her hands in his hair. His jacket had fallen off her shoulders and the straps of her nightgown were sliding down her pale arms.
Clary was laughing and saying his name, saying maybe they should go back inside, and Jace kissed her neck. Clary gasped and Emma heard him say, "Remember the Wayland manor? Remember that time outside?"
"I remember." Her voice was low and throaty.
"I didn't think I could have you," Jace said. He was propped over Clary on his elbows, tracing the line of her cheek with his finger. "It was like being in Hell. I would have done anything for you. I still would."
Clary flattened her hand against his chest, over his heart, and said, "I love you."
He made a noise, a very un-Jace-like noise, and Emma jerked herself away from the gate and ran back toward the Blackthorn house.
She reached her window and climbed up inside, gasping. The moon shone down like a floodlight, illuminating her room. She kicked off her slippers and sat down on the bed. Her heart was hammering inside her chest.
The way Jace had looked down at Clary, the way she'd touched his face. She wondered if anyone would ever look at her like that. It didn't seem possible. She couldn't imagine loving anyone that much.
Anyone but Jules.
But that was different. Wasn't it? She couldn't imagine Julian lying on top of her, kissing her like that. They were different, they were something else, weren't they?
She lay back down on the bed, looking across the room at the door. Some part of her expected Jules to come through it, to come to her because she was unhappy the way he often did, seeming to know without being told. But why would he think she was unhappy? Today had been her parabatai ceremony; it should have been one of the happiest days of her life except for maybe her wedding day. Instead she felt flushed and strange and full of the strangest urge to cry.
Jules, she thought, but the door didn't open, and he didn't come. Instead she curled up around her pillow and lay awake until dawn.
After the darkness, there was light. Bright white and silver--starlight on water and sand. And Emma was flying. Over the surface of the water, now shallow--she could see the sand of the beach underneath, and a pool of fire where the moon reflected.
There was a pain in her chest. She twisted to get away from it and realized she wasn't flying; she was being carried. She was being held against a hard chest and arms were around her. She saw the glimmer of blue-green eyes.
Julian. Julian was carrying her. Wet, dark curls crowned his head. She tried to draw in a breath to speak, and choked. Her chest spasmed; water filled her mouth, bitter and salty like blood. She saw Julian's face twist with panic, and then he was half-running up the beach, finally crashing to his knees, depositing her in the sand. She was still coughing, choking, looking up at him with frightened eyes. She saw the same fear mirrored on his face; she wanted to tell him it would be all right, everything was going to be fine, but she couldn't speak past the water in her throat.
He fumbled a stele from his belt and she felt the tip burn against her skin. Her head fell back as the rune formed. She saw the moon over her, behind Julian's head like a halo. She wanted to tell him he had a halo. Maybe he'd think it was funny. But the words were drowning in her chest. She was drowning. Dying on land.
The rune was finished. Julian pulled the stele back and Emma's chest seemed to cave in. She cried out, and water exploded from her lungs. She curled up, racked with deep coughs. It hurt as her body expelled the seawater, as if she were being turned inside out. She felt Julian's hand on her back, his fingers between her shoulder blades, holding her steady.
At last the coughing slowed. She rolled onto her back and stared up at Julian and the sky behind him. She could see a million stars, and he still had his halo, but there was no longer anything funny about it. He was shivering, his black shirt and jeans plastered to his body, his face whiter than the moon.
"Emma?" he whispered.
"Jules," she said. Her voice sounded weak and rough to her own ears. "I--I'm all right."
"What the hell happened? What were you doing in the water?"
"I went to the convergence," she whispered. "There was some kind of spell--it sucked me out into the ocean--"
"You went to the convergence by yourself?" His voice rose. "How could you be so reckless?"
"I had to try--"
"You didn't have to try alone!" His voice seemed to echo off the water. His fists were clenched at his sides. She realized he wasn't shaking from cold after all--it wa
s rage. "What the hell is the point of being parabatai if you go off and risk yourself without me?"
"I didn't want to put you in danger--"
"I almost drowned inside the Institute! I coughed up water! Water you breathed!"
Emma stared at him in shock. She started to prop herself up on her elbows. Her hair, heavy and soaked, hung down her back like a weight. "How is that possible?"
"Of course it's possible!" His voice seemed to explode out of his body. "We are bound together, Emma, bound together--I breathe when you breathe, I bleed when you bleed, I'm yours and you're mine, you've always been mine, and I have always, always belonged to you!"
She had never heard him say anything like this, never heard him talk this way, never seen him so close to losing control.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said. She started to sit up, reaching for him. He caught her wrist.
"Are you joking?" Even in the darkness, his blue-green eyes had color. "Is this a joke to you, Emma? Don't you understand?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't live if you die!"
Her eyes searched his face. "Jules, I'm so sorry, Jules--"
The wall that usually hid the truth deep in his eyes had crumbled; she could see the panic there, the desperation, the relief that had punched through his defenses.
He was still holding her wrist. She didn't know if she leaned into him first or if he pulled her toward him. Maybe both. They crashed together like stars colliding, and then he was kissing her.
Jules. Julian. Kissing her.
His mouth moved against hers, hot and restless, turning her body to liquid fire. She clawed at his back, pulling him closer. His clothes were wet, but his skin under them was hot wherever she could touch it. When she placed her hands at his waist, he gasped into her mouth, a gasp that was half incredulity and half desire.
"Emma," he said, a word halfway between a prayer and a groan. His mouth was wild on hers; they were kissing as if they were trying to tear down the bars that held them inside a prison. As if they were both drowning and they could breathe only through each other.