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Clary's eyes had gone very wide. "Simon . . . ," she whispered. Her voice was raspy.
"It's a bit of a technicality," Magnus added, "but Shadowhunters have no problems with technicalities. They love a technicality. Look at Jem. Jem is a technicality in the flesh. People don't come back from being Silent Brothers, either, and there he is."
Jem smiled at this, the sadness in his eyes receding.
"Parabatai," Clary said again.
And in that moment, something settled over Simon. Something like a blanket on a cold day. Something completely reassuring.
"Parabatai," he said.
A long moment settled between them, and in that moment, all was decided. There was no need to discuss it. You do not need to ask if your heart should beat, or if you should breathe. He and Clary were parabatai. All of Simon's anger was gone. Now he knew. He had Clary, and she would have him. Forever. Their souls knit.
"How did you know?" Simon asked.
"It's not that hard to see," Magnus replied, and finally some of the usual levity was in his voice. "I'm also literally magic."
"It's pretty obvious," Catarina added.
"Even I knew," said Jem. "And I don't know you very well. There's always something about true parabatai. They don't need to speak to communicate. I saw the two of you having entire conversations without saying a word. It was like that with my parabatai, Will. I never had to ask Will what he was thinking. In fact, it was usually better not to ask Will what he was thinking. . . ."
That got a smile from Magnus and Catarina both.
"But I see it between you. True parabatai are linked long before the ceremony takes place."
"So we can . . . we can do the ceremony?" Clary asked.
"You can," Jem said. "Not tonight. There will be some discussions in the Silent City about it, surely, as this is an unusual case."
"All right," Catarina said. "Now the nurse is taking over. That's enough for tonight. You two need sleep. That water packs a punch. You'll be fine in the morning, but you need to rest. Rest and hydrate. Come on."
Simon went to stand and found that his legs had left him and had been replaced with a wobbly, leg-shaped substance. Catarina caught him up under the shoulder and helped him. Magnus helped Clary to her feet.
"There's a room for you here tonight, Clary," Catarina said. "In the morning we'll have the dress gear brought to you both for Julian and Emma's ceremony."
"Wait," Simon said as he was being ushered out. "Jace kept saying something about how I had to remember how he and I met. What does that mean?"
"That's for you to figure out," Jem said. "The visions caused by Lake Lyn can stir very powerful feelings."
Simon nodded. His body was giving out. He allowed Catarina to help him back to his room.
"What happened to you?" George said as Catarina got him in the door.
"How long have I been gone?" Simon replied, dropping face-first onto his bed. It was a sign of his exhaustion that his terrible, sharp-springed bed felt good. It felt like a hundred down pillows heaped on the back of a bouncy castle.
"Maybe two hours," George said. "You look terrible. What was it?"
"The food," Simon mumbled. "It finally got me."
And then he was asleep.
*
He felt surprisingly okay when he woke up. He woke before George, even. He got out of bed quietly and picked up his towel and things to go down to the bathrooms. On the ground outside the door, in a black box, was a set of formal gear. Formal Shadowhunter gear looked much like regular gear--it was just lighter in weight, somehow more deeply black, and cleaner than most gear. No tears. No ichor. Fancy duds. He put the box on his bed and quietly continued to the bathroom. No one was awake yet, so he had the whole moldy place to himself. It turned out if you woke up first, you could actually get a tiny bit of hot water, so he stood under the spray, pretended that it didn't taste of rust, and let his body relax in the warmth. There was just enough light coming through the window high up on the wall that he could get what amounted to an almost even shave.
He walked through the empty halls of the Academy, which were softened by the early morning light. Nothing looked so severe this morning. It was almost cozy. He even found one of the hall fires burning, and he stood beside it to get warm before going outside for some air. He wasn't surprised to find Clary there, already dressed, sitting on the top step, looking out of the mist that floated over the grounds at dawn.
"You woke up early too, huh?" she said.
He sat down next to her.
"Yup. Get up before the kitchen starts cooking. That's the only way to escape it. I'm starving, though."
Clary rummaged around in her bag for a moment and produced a bagel wrapped in several small deli napkins.
"Is that . . . ," Simon said.
"You think I would come from New York empty-handed? No cream cheese, but, you know, it's something. I know what you need."
Simon held the bagel for a moment.
"It makes sense," she said. "You and me. I feel like it's always been true. It's always what we were. You don't . . . I know you don't remember it all, but it's always been you and me."
"I remember enough," he said. "I feel enough."
He wanted to say more, but the enormity of it all--much of this was best left unsaid. For now, anyway. It was still so fresh in his mind, this feeling. This feeling of completeness.
So he ate the bagel. Always eat the bagel.
"Emma and Julian," Simon said between bites. "They're only fourteen."
"Jace and Alec were fifteen."
"Still, it seems . . . I mean, they've been through a lot. The attack on the L.A. Institute."
"I know," Clary said, nodding. "But bad stuff . . . it brings people together sometimes. They've had to grow up fast."
A black horse-drawn carriage appeared on the edge of the road leading to the Academy. As it grew closer, Simon could see a figure in a plain, parchment-colored robe at the reins. When the carriage stopped and the figure turned to them, Simon could see the runes that sealed the man's mouth. When the man spoke, it was not through normal words, but in a voice that landed right inside of Simon's mind.
I am Brother Shadrach. I am here to take you to the ceremony. Please get inside.
"You know," said Simon quietly as they got into the carriage, "there was probably a time when we would have considered this creepy."
"I don't remember that time anymore," replied Clary.
"I guess we're finally even on something we don't remember."
The carriage was simply appointed in black silk, black curtains, black everything, really. But it was well sprung and comfortable, as far as speeding horse carriages go. Brother Shadrach had no fear of speed, and soon the Academy was in the distance and Simon and Clary were looking at each other from across the carriage as they bounced along. Simon tried to talk a few times, but his voice juddered from the impact, the constant thud thud thud of the carriage making its way across Brocelind Plain. The roads in Idris were not the smooth highways Simon was used to. They were paved in stone, and there were no rest stops with bathrooms and Starbucks. There was no heat, but each had been provided with a heavy fur blanket. As a vegetarian, Simon didn't really want to use it. As a person without much choice who was freezing, he did.
Simon also had no watch, no phone, nothing to tell the passing time except the rising of the late-autumn sun. He estimated that they rode an hour, maybe more. They entered the calming shade of the Brocelind Forest. The smell of the trees and leaves was almost intoxicating, and the sun came through in slashes and ribbons, illuminating Clary's face and hair, her smile.
His parabatai.
They stopped not too far into the forest. The door opened, and Brother Shadrach was there.
We have arrived.
Somehow, it was worse when it stopped. Simon's head and body still felt like they were shaking. Simon looked up and saw that they were near the base of a mountain. It stretched above the trees.
This way
.
They followed Brother Shadrach down a barely marked track--a light trail where several feet had passed, leaving just the tiniest scar on the ground, a few inches wide. Through a thicket of trees against the mountainside, there was a doorway, about fifteen feet in height. It was wide at the base and narrower at the top. There was a bas-relief carving of an angel just above the lintel. Brother Shadrach took one of the rings on the door and knocked it hard, just once. The door opened, seemingly of its own accord.
