Her window rattled again. She looked up and saw Gwyn on the other side of the glass.

She stood up with a yelp of surprise, sending her papers flying. Get a grip, she told herself. There was no way that the leader of the Wild Hunt was actually outside her window.

She blinked, and looked again. He was still there, and as she moved toward the window, she saw that he was hovering in the air just below her sill, on the back of a massive gray horse. He wore dark brown leather, and his antlered helmet was nowhere to be seen. His expression was grave and curious.

He gestured for her to open the window. Diana hesitated, then reached to undo the latch and fling up the sash. She didn’t have to let him in, she reasoned. They could just talk through the window.

Cool air rushed into her room, and the smell of pine and morning air. His bicolored eyes fixed on her. “My lady,” he said. “I had hoped you would accompany me on a ride.”

Diana tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Why?”

“For the pleasure of your company,” Gwyn said. He peered at her. “I see you are richly attired in silk. Are you expecting another guest?”

She shook her head, amused. Well, the pajamas were nice.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “I am fortunate.”

She supposed he wasn’t lying. He couldn’t lie.

“You couldn’t have arranged this meeting in advance?” she asked. “Sent me a message, maybe?”

He looked puzzled. He had long eyelashes and a square chin—a pleasant face. A handsome face. Diana often tried not to think about those things, as they only caused trouble, but now she couldn’t help it. “I only discovered you were here in Idris this dawn,” he said.

“But you’re not allowed to be here!” She looked nervously up and down empty Flintlock Street. If anyone saw him . . .

He grinned at that. “As long as my horse’s hooves do not touch Alicante ground the alarm will not be raised.”

Still, she felt a bubble of tension in her chest. He was asking her on a date—she couldn’t pretend otherwise. And though she wanted to go, the fear—that old fear that walked hand in hand with distrust and grief—held her back.

He reached out a hand. “Come with me. The sky awaits.”

She looked at him. He wasn’t young, but he didn’t look old, either. He seemed ageless, as faeries did sometimes, and though he seemed solid and thoughtful in himself, he carried with him the promise of the air and the sky. When else will you ever have a chance to ride a faerie horse? Diana asked herself. When else will you ever fly?

“You’re going to be in so much trouble,” she whispered, “if they find out you’re here.”

He shrugged, hand still outstretched. “Then you had better come quickly,” he said.

She began to climb out the window.

* * *

Breakfast was late; Kit managed to snag a few hours of sleep and a shower before wandering into the dining room to find everyone else already sitting down.

Well, everyone but Evelyn. Bridget was serving tea, pinched-faced as always. Alec and Magnus each had a child on their lap, and introduced them to Kit: Max was the small, blue warlock who was spilling brown sauce down the front of Magnus’s designer shirt, and Rafe was the brown-eyed child who was tearing his toast into pieces.

Kieran was nowhere to be seen, which wasn’t unusual at meals. Mark was seated beside Cristina, who was quietly drinking coffee. She looked neat and self-contained as always, despite the red mark on her wrist. She was an interesting mystery, Kit thought, a non-Blackthorn like himself, but inextricably tied to the Blackthorns nevertheless.

And then there were Livvy and Ty. Ty had the buds of his earphones in. Livvy looked tired but entirely healthy. Only a slight shadow under Ty’s eyes let Kit know he hadn’t dreamed the whole of last night.

“What we found at Blackthorn Hall was an aletheia crystal,” Ty was saying as Kit sat down. “In the past the crystals were used by the Clave to hold evidence. The evidence of memories.”

There was a babble of curious voices. Cristina’s rose above the others—it was an impressive talent of hers, to make herself heard without ever shouting. “Memories of what?”

“A sort of trial,” said Livvy. “In Idris, with the Inquisitor there. Lots of familiar families—Herondales, Blackthorns, of course, Dearborns.”

“Any Lightwoods?” asked Alec.

“One or two looked like they might be.” Livvy frowned.

“The Herondales have always been famous for their good looks,” said Bridget, “but if you ask me, the Lightwoods are the more sexually charismatic of the bunch.”

Alec spit out his tea. Magnus seemed to be keeping a straight face, but with an effort.

“I should examine the memories,” Magnus said. “See if there’s anyone I recognize from that era.”

“If Annabel is angry at Shadowhunters,” said Livvy, “it seems to me she has good reason.”

“Many have good reason to be angry with the Nephilim,” said Mark. “Malcolm did as well. But those who harmed her are dead, and their descendants blameless. That is the problem with revenge—you wind up destroying the innocent as well as the guilty.”

“But does she know that?” Ty frowned. “We don’t understand her. We don’t know what she thinks or feels.”

He looked anxious, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. Kit wanted to go across the table and put his arms around Ty the way he had the night before, on the roof. He felt intensely protective of the other boy, in a way that was strange and unnerving. He’d cared about people before, mostly his father, but he’d never wanted to protect them.

He wanted to kill anyone who would try to hurt Ty. It was a very peculiar feeling.

“Everyone should watch the scenes in the crystal,” Magnus announced. “In the meantime, Alec and I have some news.”

“You’re getting married,” said Livvy, beaming. “I love weddings.”

“Nope, still not getting married right now,” said Alec. Kit wondered why not; they were clearly a committed couple. But it was none of his business, really.

“Evelyn has left us,” said Magnus. Somehow he managed to retain his sangfroid despite having a grizzling toddler on his lap. “According to Jia, the Institute is temporarily in Alec’s charge.”

“They’ve been trying to lumber me with an Institute somewhere for years,” said Alec. “Jia must be thrilled.”

“Evelyn has left us?” Dru’s eyes were huge. “You mean she died?”

Magnus started to cough. “Of course not. She went to visit your great-aunt Marjorie, actually, in the countryside.”

“Is this like when the family dog dies and they say he’s living on a farm now?” Kit asked, curious.

It was Alec’s turn to choke. Kit strongly suspected he was laughing and trying not to show it.

“Not at all,” said Magnus. “She just decided she’d prefer to miss the excitement.”

“She is with Marjorie,” Mark confirmed. “I got a fire-message about it this morning. She left Bridget, obviously, to help around the house.”

Kit thought of the way Evelyn had reacted to having a faerie in the Institute. He could only imagine how she’d felt about two warlocks added to the situation. She’d probably left tire marks behind when she raced out of the place.