He was staring straight ahead, still breathing hard.
“I have something I want to give you.”
“I gathered that.”
At that he jerked his gaze back to hers and almost reluctantly grinned.
“Not that.
Mots clés clary-fray tmi jace-lightwood clace
He cleared his throat.
“You know this means that what we did what we almost did in Paris...”
“Going to the Eiffel Tower?”
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“You never let me off the hook for a single minute, do you? Never mind. It’s one of the things I love about you. Anyway, that other thing we almost did in Paris, that’s probably off the table for a while. Unless you want that whole baby-I’m-on-fire-when-we kiss thing to become freakishly literal.”
“No kissing?”
“Well, kissing, probably. But as for the rest of it…”
She brushed her cheek lightly against his. “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course it’s not okay with me. I’m a teenage boy. As far as I’m concerned, this is the worst thing that’s happened since I found out why Magnus was banned from Peru.
Mots clés clary-fray tmi jace-lightwood clace
Having rock-star problems may be the closest I ever get to being an actual rock star.
Cassandra ClareMots clés clary-fray simon-lewis
Do you want to hear it or not? You have to keep it a secret.
“ I would pluck out my own eyes with a fork before I would give away your secrets, “ Simon said, then looked anxious. “ Wait a second. Do you think that„s likely to be required?
Mots clés secret clary-fray simon-lewis city-of-lost-souls
I don't know who I am. I look like Stephen Herondale, and I act like a Lightwood and I talk like my father- like Valentine. So I see myself in your eyes and i try to be that person and I think faith might be enough to make me who you wnat me to be.
Cassandra ClareMots clés clary-fray jace-lightwood self-identity-cris
He had to think he was Michael Wayland’s son, or the Lightwoods would not have protected him as they did. It was Michael they owed a debt to, not me. It was on Michael’s account that they loved him, not mine.”
“Maybe they loved him on his own account,” said Clary.
Mots clés love clary-fray jace-wayland son parental-love
He is a demon, Clarissa,” said Valentine, still in the same soft voice. “A demon with a man’s face. I know how deceptive such monsters can be. Remember, I spared him once myself.”
“Monster?” echoed Clary. She thought of Luke, Luke pushing her on the swings when she was five years old, higher, always higher; Luke at her graduation from middle school, camera clicking away like a proud father’s; Luke sorting through each box of books as it arrived at his store, looking for anything she might like and putting it aside. Luke lifting her up to pull apples down from the trees near his farmhouse. Luke, whose place as her father this man was trying to take. “Luke isn’t a monster,” she said in a voice that matched Valentine’s, steel for steel. “Or a murderer. You are.”
“Clary!” It was Jace.
Clary ignored him. Her eyes were fixed on her father’s cold black ones. “You murdered your wife’s parents, not in battle but in cold blood,” she said. “And I bet you murdered Michael Wayland and his little boy, too. Threw their bones in with my grandparents’ so that my mother would think you and Jace were dead. Put your necklace around Michael Wayland’s neck before you burned him so everyone would think those bones were yours. After all your talk about the untainted blood of the Clave — you didn’t care at all about their blood or their innocence when you killed them, did you? Slaughtering old people and children in cold blood, that’s monstrous.
Mots clés morality monsters fathers-and-daughters clary-fray valentine-morgenstern murderer
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