“Julian lies to protect all of you,” said Kit. “If he’s not around, then you’ll lie to protect the younger ones. Nothing to worry about, Julian and Mark are off to the Unseelie Court, hope they send a postcard, wish we were there.”

Livvy seemed poised between irritation and relief—angry that Kit had guessed the truth, relieved there was someone with whom she didn’t have to pretend. “Do you think I convinced Diana?” she said finally.

“I think you convinced her you weren’t worried,” said Kit. “She’s still worried. She’s probably pulling whatever strings she’s got to pull to figure out how to find them.”

“We’re pretty low on strings here, you might have noticed,” Livvy said. “As Institutes go, we’re a weird one.”

“I don’t really have a lot of points of reference. But I believe you.”

“So you didn’t actually tell me.” Livvy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are we the kind of people you can trick and cheat, or not?”

“Not,” said Kit. “But not because you’re Shadowhunters. Because you genuinely seem to care about each other more than you care about yourselves. Which makes it hard to convince you to be selfish.”

She took a few steps away, reaching out to touch a small red flower blooming on a silvery-green hedge. When she turned back to Kit, her hair was blowing around her face, and her eyes were unnaturally bright. For a moment, he worried she might be about to cry, or yell at him.

“Kiss me,” she said.

Kit didn’t know where he’d thought the conversation was going, but definitely not there. He just managed not to start coughing. “What?”

“You heard me.” She moved back toward him, pacing slowly and deliberately. He tried not to stare at her legs again. “I asked you to kiss me.”

“Why?”

She was starting to smile. Behind her, Ty was still balanced on his rock, gazing out to sea. “Haven’t you ever kissed anyone before?” she inquired.

“Yes. I’m not sure how that’s relevant, though, to you wanting me to kiss you right now, right here.”

“Are you sure you’re a Herondale? I’m pretty sure a Herondale would lunge at this kind of opportunity.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there some reason you don’t want to kiss me?”

“For one, you have a terrifying older brother,” said Kit.

“I do not have a terrifying older brother.”

“That’s true,” Kit said. “You have two.”

“Fine,” Livvy said, dropping her arms and turning away. “Fine, if you don’t want to—”

Kit caught her shoulder. It was warm under his grasp, the heat of her skin tactile through the thin material of her T-shirt. “I do, though.”

To his surprise, he meant it. His world was sliding away from him; he felt as if he were falling toward something, a dark unknown, the ragged edge of unwanted choices. And here was a pretty girl offering him something to cling to, a way to forget, something to catch and hold, even if only for a moment.

The pulse fluttered lightly in her neck as she half-turned her head, her hair brushing his hand. “All right,” she said.

“But tell me one thing. Why me? Why do you want to kiss me?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” she said in a low voice. “In my whole life. I hardly ever meet anyone. It’s us alone, against the whole world, and I don’t mind that, I’d do anything for my family, but I feel like I’m missing all the chances I should have. You’re my age, and you’re a Shadowhunter, and you don’t get on my nerves. I don’t have that many options.”

“You could kiss a Centurion,” Kit suggested.

She turned around completely at that, his hand still on her shoulder, her expression indignant.

“Okay, I guess that suggestion was a little out of bounds,” he admitted. The urge to kiss her had become overwhelming, so he gave up trying not to, and curved his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. Her eyes widened, and then she tilted her head back, her mouth angled toward his and their mouths slanted together surprisingly gently.

It was soft and sweet and warm, and she moved into the circle made by his arm, her hands coming to rest at first hesitantly and then with greater purpose on his shoulders. She gripped tightly, pulling him in, his eyes shutting against the blue dazzle of the ocean in the distance. He forgot the ground under his feet, the world around him, everything but the sense of being comforted by someone holding him. Someone caring.

“Livvy. Ty! Kit!”

It was Diana’s voice. Kit snapped out of his daze and let Livvy go; she moved away from him looking surprised, one hand rising to touch her lips.

“All of you!” Diana called. “Get back here, now! I need your help!”

“So how was it?” Kit asked. “Okay for your first?”

“Not bad.” Livvy lowered her hand. “You really put your back into it. I didn’t expect that.”

“Herondales don’t do perfunctory kisses,” said Kit. There was a brief flurry of movement, and Ty was down from the rock he’d climbed, picking his way toward them through the desert scrub.

Livvy gave a short, soft laugh. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you call yourself a Herondale.”

Ty joined them, his pale oval face unreadable. Kit couldn’t tell anything from his expression—whether he’d seen Kit and Livvy kiss or not. Though what reason would he have to care if he had?

“Looks like it’s going to be clear tonight,” he said. “No clouds coming in.”

Livvy said something about better weather for following suspicious Centurions, and she was already moving to walk next to Ty, like she always did. Kit followed after them, hands in the pockets of his jeans, though he could feel the Herondale ring, heavy on his finger, as if he had only now remembered the weight.

* * *

The Land Under the Hill. The Delightful Plain. The Place Beneath the Wave. The Lands of the Ever-Young.

As the hours wore on, all the names Emma had ever heard for Faerieland ran through her head. Conversation between the four of them had grown quieter and fallen eventually into an exhausted silence; Cristina trudged along beside Emma wordlessly, her pendant glimmering in the moonlight. Mark led the way, checking their path against the stars every short while. In the distance the Thorn Mountains became clearer and closer, rising stark and unforgettable against a sky the color of blackened sapphire.

The mountains weren’t often visible, though. Mostly the path they followed wound through low-hanging trees that grew close together, boughs occasionally intertwining. More than once Emma would catch a glimpse of bright eyes flashing out from between the shadows. When tree branches rustled, she would look up to catch sight of shadows moving quickly above them, laughter trailing behind them like mist.

“These are the places of the wild fey,” said Mark, as the road curved around a hill. “The gentry fey stay within the Courts or sometimes town. They like their creature comforts.”

Here and there were signs of habitation: crumbled mossy bits of old stone walls, wooden fences cleverly fitted together without the use of nails. They passed through several villages in the hour before dawn: Every one of them was shuttered and dark, windows broken and empty. As they went farther into Faerie they began to see something else, too. The first time they saw it, Emma stopped short and exclaimed—the grass they’d been walking on had suddenly dissolved under her feet, puffing up white and gray like ash around her ankles.