“No,” he said firmly. “Adaon did not tell me immediately that you had sent him a message. I was unaware you had contacted him. I was trying to forget the two of you—I was trying to be a good King, and to learn how to live a meaningful life without you.” A stripe of his hair turned silver-blue. “It was awful. I hated every minute of it. Finally, when I could stand it no more, I went to Adaon and asked if he would be willing to trade places with me. He refused, but that was when he offered me the cottage.”
Cristina was indignant. “I can’t believe he did that! He should have gotten in touch with you right away!”
Kieran smiled at her. She wondered that she had ever found anything about him harsh or distant. They moved closer to each other, a quiet group of three among the fire and the laughter, their heads bent together.
“Will it really work?” Mark looked troubled. He reached over to brush sand from Kieran’s velvet sleeve. “Is there really a place we can be together?”
Kieran produced a key from a chain around his throat—it looked ancient, blackened with age, a brassy silver. “The cottage is ours now. It will give us a place where there are no kings, no queens, no mortals or faeries. Just the three of us together. It won’t be all the time, but it will be enough.”
“For now I will take any time with the two of you that I can have,” Cristina said, and Kieran leaned in to kiss her softly. When he drew back, Mark was smiling at them both.
“Cristina and I will be very busy, I think,” he said. “Between our families in different Institutes and our work with the Alliance. And you too will be busy with your new kingdom. The time we spend together will be precious indeed.”
Cristina patted her pocket. “Diego and Jaime both said they’d be grateful if I’d keep watch over the Eternidad. So all you need to do is send us a message, Kieran, and we will come to you.”
Kieran looked thoughtful. “Will you bring me one of those cat calendars of which I have grown fond? I would like to decorate the cottage.”
“There are actually other kinds of calendars. Ones with otters and rabbits and puppies,” Mark said, grinning.
Looking beatific, Kieran tipped his head back to see the stars. “This is truly a land of marvels.”
Cristina gazed at them both, her heart so full of love it hurt. “It truly is.”
* * *
When Alec and Magnus returned to the beach, it had been transfigured.
“You planned this?” Magnus said, looking around in wonder. He’d had no idea—none at all, but it was unmistakeable. Magnus and Alec had lain awake so many nights in their apartment in Brooklyn, as the ceiling fan spun slowly overhead, and whispered their thoughts and plans for that far-off day when they would make their promises in gold and blue. They had both known what they wanted.
Their friends had worked quickly. The Shadowhunters had donned wedding runes, proclaiming their witness to a ceremony of love and commitment. The Downworlders had tied silk strips of cobalt blue around their left wrists, as guests at warlock weddings ceremonially did. It had been so long, Magnus thought, since he had attended a wedding for one of his own. He had never thought it would happen for him.
Glimmering torches, their flames untouched by the wind, described pathways on the beach, leading to a wooden platform that had been placed in view of the sea. Magnus had grown up able to see the ocean, and he had once—only once—mentioned to Alec that he would like to be married within the sound of its waves. His heart felt as if it were being crushed into a thousand joyous pieces now, since Alec had remembered.
“I’m just glad you said yes,” said Alec. “I’d hate to have to explain to everyone that they have to put the decorations away. And I already told the kids I had a surprise for you.”
Magnus couldn’t help himself; he kissed Alec on the cheek. “You still surprise me every day, Alexander,” he said. “You and your damn poker face.”
Alec laughed. As their friends waved them forward eagerly, Magnus could hear their greetings and cheers, carried on the wind. Runes shimmered gold under the torchlight, and deep blue cobalt silk rustled in the wind.
Jace stepped forward first, in a gear jacket printed with golden runes, and held out a hand to Alec.
“I stand as suggenes to Alexander Lightwood,” he said with pride.
Magnus felt about Jace the way he had felt about many Shadowhunters over the years, Fairchilds and Herondales and Carstairs and others: fondness and faint exasperation. But in moments like this, when Jace’s love for Alec shone true and untrammeled, he felt only gratitude and affection.
Alec took Jace’s hand and they began to walk the pathway of light. Magnus made to follow them, warlocks having no tradition of suggenes—a companion to the altar—but Catarina stepped forward, smiling, and took his arm. “I fought our mutual green frenemy for the privilege of escorting you,” she said, indicating a fulminating Ragnor with a tilt of her head. “Come on, now—you don’t think I’d let you approach the altar alone? What if you got cold feet and ran off?”
Magnus chuckled as they passed by familiar faces: Maia and Bat, Lily wearing a tipsy crown of flowers, Helen and Aline whistling and clapping. Helen had a blue band around her wrist as well as gold runes on her clothes; so did Mark. “My feet have never been warmer,” Magnus said. “They’re positively toasty.”
She smiled at him. “No doubts?”
They had reached the end of the lighted path. Alec stood waiting, Jace beside him on the platform. Behind them was the ocean, stretching out silvery-blue as Magnus’s magic, all the way to the horizon. Their closest friends ringed the platform—Clary with her arms full of blue and yellow flowers, Isabelle carrying Max and sniffling back tears, Simon alight and smiling, Maryse with Rafe by her side: he looked solemn, as if aware of the significance of the occasion. Jia Penhallow stood where a priest would stand in a mundane ceremony, the Codex in her hand. They had all donned shawls or light jackets of silk, runed in gold; silk banners hung suspended in the sky, printed with runes of love and faith, commitment and family.
Magnus glanced down at Catarina. “No doubts,” he said.
She squeezed his hand and went to stand beside Jia. There was a second ring around the platform: The Blackthorns and their friends were all there, clustered in close. Julian smiled his slow quiet smile at Magnus; Emma glowed with happiness as Magnus crossed the wooden platform and took his place opposite Alec.
Alec held his hands out, and Magnus took them. He looked into Alec’s blue eyes, the precise color of his own magic, and felt a great calm descend over him, a peace beyond all other peace he had ever known.
No doubts. Magnus didn’t need to search his soul. He’d searched it a thousand times, ten thousand, in the years he’d known Alec. Not because he doubted, but because it shocked him so much that he didn’t. In all his life, he had never known such surety. He had lived happily and had no regrets, he had made poetry out of wondering and wandering, had lived untethered and gloried in freedom.
Then Magnus had met Alec. He had felt drawn to him in a way he couldn’t have explained or anticipated: He had wanted to see Alec smile, to see him be happy. He had watched Alec turn from a shy boy with secrets to a proud man who faced the world openly and unafraid. Alec had given him the gift of faith, a faith that Magnus was strong enough to make not just Alec happy, but a whole family happy. And in their happiness, Magnus had felt himself not just free, but surrounded by an unimaginable glory.
Some might have called it the presence of God.
Magnus just thought of it as Alexander Gideon Lightwood.
* * *
“Let us begin,” Jia said.
Emma had risen to her tiptoes in excitement. They had all known that there was going to be a surprise wedding on the beach—a surprise to Magnus, at any rate. If Alec had been nervous, he’d done a good job of mostly hiding it. No one else had thought Magnus might say no, but Emma remembered the slight tremble of Alec’s hands earlier, and her heart bubbled with happiness that it had all worked out.
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Jace stepped forward to help Alec into a dark blue gear jacket printed with golden runes, while Catarina draped a cobalt-and-gilt silk jacket around Magnus’s shoulders.
They both moved back, and a hush fell over the crowd as Jia spoke.
“Through the centuries,” she said, “there have been few unions between Shadowhunters and Downworlders that have been recognized as such. But a new age has dawned, and with a new age come new traditions. Tonight, as Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood blend their lives and hearts, we stand ready to recognize this union. To witness a true bond between two souls who have cleaved to each other.” She cleared her throat. She looked a bit drawn, as she had in the Council Hall, but much less tired. There was delight and pride in her face as she gazed around the gathered group. “Alexander Gideon Lightwood. Hast thou found the one thy soul loves?”
It was a question asked at every wedding: part of the Shadowhunter ceremony for a thousand years. The crowd hushed, the hush of holiness, of sacred ritual observed and shared. Emma couldn’t help but reach out to hold Julian’s hand; he drew her against his side. There was something about the way Magnus and Alec looked at each other. Emma had thought they would be smiling, but they were both serious: They looked at each other as if the other person were as brilliant as a full moon that could blot out every star.
“I have found him,” Alec said. “And I will not let him go.”