The Lost Book of the White by Cassandra Clare

CHAPTER TWENTYThe Soul of the Clave

IN 1910, CATARINA LOSS’S SONEphraim died. By that time, he was an old man with children and grandchildren of his own. Catarina hadn’t seen him for decades; he believed that she’d died when he was only in his thirties, in a shipwreck.

Magnus had been living in New York at the time, in a smart apartment in Manhattan across the street from the old Metropolitan Opera House, the one they tore down in 1967. A telegram came: No. 2, the Bund, Shanghai, it said in Catarina’s hurried hand. So Magnus fetched his gloves and his hat and he went.

Number Two, the Bund, turned out to be the home of the Shanghai Club, a little bit of English elitism dropped right in the heart of China, in the form of a squat marble baroque revival building in which Shanghai’s British elite hobnobbed, drank, and for a short time, essentially ruled the mundane world. The building was new, though the club was not. It was a funny choice for Catarina. She knew as well as Magnus that it was open to white men only. This was Catarina being mischievous, in her way. She sometimes enjoyed glamouring herself into the private spaces of rich mundanes, delighting in her ability to stand totally outside their world, to have a drink with an old friend in the face of those who wouldn’t allow them entrance under normal circumstances.

The whole place was palatial in a way that was also a bit grotesque. Magnus walked through a cavernous columned Grand Hall, past taipans and diplomats, utterly pleased with themselves. And why not? They were living like royalty at the heart of one of the oldest kingdoms in the world. They had no reason to think it would ever end—and at the time, Magnus wondered himself how long it could last. Not much longer, it turned out.

But for now, here were expensive cigars and brandy, fresh newspapers, and a library rumored to be larger than the city of Shanghai’s. Magnus was unsurprised to find Catarina in it.

Though no one but Magnus could see her, she was elegantly put together as always: her dress was a slender column of white satin, with a black lace overlay and butterfly sleeves. A black velvet sash waistband completed the affair. Magnus thought he saw the hand of Paul Poiret, the famous designer, at work; Magnus wondered if Catarina had managed to outdress him.

She was seated in one of the club chairs, gazing at the shelves across from her as though she was studying their spines from a distance, though they were too far for Magnus to read. He sat down in the chair opposite Catarina and said, “So what’s the plan? Are we tearing this whole place down in the name of freedom and equality?”

Catarina looked up at him. There were dark circles beneath her eyes. “I had to watch a man die here once,” she said.

Magnus leaned forward sharply. “What?”

“It was a few years ago,” she said. “I was here, in the library, and a man fell to the ground, writhing in pain. A medic was called, the other club members gathered around their mate, but none of them had any medical training or knew what to do—they argued about whether to elevate his legs or elevate his head, whether he should be prone or supine—and he died there, before any doctor or nurse could reach him.”

She looked distant. “Could I have saved him? Magically or otherwise? Could the mundane doctors, if there had been one here? I don’t know. Maybe he would have died regardless. But what could I do? I couldn’t simply appear to them as if from a dream; they’d think somebody had poisoned the punch.”

“Do they still serve the punch?” said Magnus.

Catarina raised an eyebrow. “You think I am being morbid.”

“I think,” said Magnus, “that the fact that mundanes die, and we can’t save them, isn’t something you just recently learned.”

Catarina sighed. “It’s not that we can’t save them,” she said, “it’s that we can’t save them even if we love them very, very much.” There were tears in her eyes now. He knew better than to say anything; instead he simply took her hands in his.

After a moment she said, “For mundanes, it is considered the greatest of tragedies if a parent outlives their child. For warlock parents it is an inevitability. I always thought it was strange that most warlocks spend their lives alone, without attachments, without ever putting down roots.…”

Magnus let her trail off and said, gently, “If you had it to do over again, would you choose not to do it?”

“No,” Catarina said without hesitation. “Of course I would do it again. No matter how many times I was made to choose, I would choose to adopt and raise Ephraim again, to see him become a man, to have children and grandchildren of his own. However hard it was. However hard it is now.”

“I’ve never had a child,” said Magnus, “but I know what it is to lose someone you love, for no better reason than that all humans must die.”

“And?” said Catarina.

“So far,” said Magnus, “life seems to me to be a matter of choosing love, over and over, even knowing that it makes you vulnerable, that it might hurt you later. Or even sooner. You just have no choice. You choose to love or you choose to live in an empty world with no one there but you. And that seems like a truly terrible way to spend eternity.”

Catarina didn’t quite smile, but her eyes glistened. “Do you think vampires go through this kind of thing too?”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Of course they do. I’ve found you can’t get them to shut up about the topic for even a moment.”

“Thank you for coming, Magnus.”

“I would always come,” he said.

Catarina wiped her eyes with her hand. “You know,” she said, sniffling a bit, “this club contains the longest bar in the world, downstairs.”

“The longest bar?” said Magnus.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s at least a hundred feet long. It’s called the Long Bar.”

“The English are good at luxury,” Magnus said, “but they don’t always make creative naming decisions, do they?”

“You’ll see,” said Catarina. “It’s very long.”

“Lead the way, dear lady.”

AS THEY TUMBLED FORTH FROMthe Portal, Alec at first was sure that Portals were still malfunctioning. He expected the busy streets of Shanghai, but they seemed to have ended up in a patch of trees, towering and narrow and densely planted, their leaves beginning to change from pale green to yellow to orange. Nearby Alec could see the moon reflected on water.

It was dark, which surprised him, but he wasn’t quite sure how many hours they had spent in Diyu, and knowing how bizarre dimensional travel could be, there was probably some time dilation effect. He could probably ask Ragnor.

“Where have we ended up?” Alec called out. “Are we close to Shanghai?”

He turned to see Jace raise his eyebrows at him in surprise. Wordlessly Jace gestured to the view behind him.

Alec took a few steps, and through the trees, very suddenly, were the lights of Shanghai, sparkling in every color. “Oh,” he said.

“There are these things called ‘parks,’ ” said Jace.

“It’s been a long couple of days,” said Alec.

“People’s Park,” said Tian. He gestured to the water Alec had noticed before, which he now could see was a small pond with banks of carefully arranged stones. Lilies floated, black against the glassy surface. “That’s the Hundred Flower Pond there. A good choice,” he added to Ragnor and Magnus.

Ragnor nodded in acknowledgment. “I thought it would be quiet, this time of night.”

“What time is it?” said Clary.

After a moment of peering at the sky, Magnus said, “It’s about ten thirty.”

“You can tell the time from the sky?” said Alec, amused.

Magnus looked surprised. “You can’t?”

“Hey, guys?” said Simon. “Can we take a moment to, uh, just quickly celebrate that we won, and nobody died? Because I don’t think we should just let that go without mentioning it.”

“Hear, hear,” said Isabelle, punching the air in victory. “Hooray for us. We beat a Prince of Hell.”

“Well,” said Ragnor, “to be fair, you all saved Magnus and me from the Svefnthorn—Alec specifically, obviously—and then Shinyun went mad and began wrecking Diyu, so the Prince of Hell left to find a different realm, and he’ll definitely be back at some point. Shinyun, also, is a loose end, as she is now some kind of dragonfly-spider thing.”

Everyone paused to soberly consider that for a moment. Finally Simon said, “But everyone lived. Magnus saved you. And Alec saved Magnus. And my girlfriend saved me while riding on a giant tiger.”

“Yes,” acknowledged Ragnor, “the day has not been a complete loss.”

Alec smiled, but he was tired of being away. And he felt a pull toward home, one that he wasn’t used to, but that now beckoned him with an incredible force. Max. Max.

He tried to catch Magnus’s eye, but Magnus had come up to Tian, who looked as weary as the rest of them. “Would you say good-bye to Jem for us? And give him all our regards?”

Tian looked surprised. “You’re leaving?”

Magnus nodded. “I really feel like we didn’t have time to explore Shanghai in the way I’d have preferred, but I hope you won’t take it as an insult if we New Yorkers head home straight from here.” Magnus looked over and caught Alec’s eye. “I’d like to see my kid.”

“Of course not.” Tian smiled. A light had come back to his dark eyes that Alec hadn’t even realized was missing before. “I’m going to go see Jinfeng. She’ll be pretty happy to hear I’m not going to be spending time in Diyu anymore. Ragnor—” Ragnor turned to him, surprised. “As far as I know, you’re the only person alive who has been stabbed by Heibai Wuchang and survived. There might be some interesting side effects.”

“Excellent,” said Ragnor mournfully. “Something to look forward to in my coming years of shame and anonymity.”

Tian turned to face the others. “Thank you all, by the way, for all that you have done. And for keeping my and Jinfeng’s secret.”

“And thank you, Tian,” said Simon, reaching to shake the other boy’s hand. “For saving Isabelle. For helping us.”

There was a chorus of assent. “The Cold Peace won’t last forever,” said Alec. “We’ll keep working to make the Clave see reason and bring it to an end.”

“I hope they will,” said Tian, “but I know you’re not the only influential force within the Clave these days.” He put a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “You must understand how much of an inspiration you are,” he said firmly. “Your family—the two of you and your son—just by existing, by being so prominent in the Clave, you are doing much. Your family—if the Clave is to survive, that is their future. It must be.”

“No pressure, though,” said Alec with a smile. “And you’re an inspiration yourself. Don’t forget it.”

Tian inclined his head. “It’s only a matter of time before there’s a real fight for the soul of the Clave. If we don’t want the Cohort’s vision to become reality, we will have to be involved. To be loud, even if we would prefer not to be.”

“You’re a good guy, Tian,” Alec said. “I’m glad we’re on the same side.”

He wasn’t the loud one, in his family. He was the quietest by a good margin. But Tian was right. And he was going to do some thinking.

Ragnor and Magnus had started preparations on a Portal home, though Ragnor seemed to be letting Magnus do most of the heavy lifting. His argument was that he was recovering from three strikes by a Svefnthorn, whereas Magnus was only recovering from two.

“You know who should open this Portal? Clary,” Magnus grumbled. “Nothing that bad happened to her on this trip.”

“I’m not entirely comfortable with that girl’s ability to open Portals,” Ragnor said, with a nervous glance in Clary’s direction. She had Jace’s arm around her, and was laughing with Isabelle. It was amazing how resilient people were, Magnus thought. “I find it… theologically confusing.”

“That,” said Magnus in breezy tones, “is why I never think about the deeper meaning behind anything.” Ragnor’s look told him that the other warlock knew very well that wasn’t true. “So where are you headed?” he said. “Back to Idris? Tidy up your house for the first time in years?”

Ragnor hesitated. Magnus rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going to keep pretending you’re dead. How well did that work last time?”

“The mistake I made,” Ragnor said, “was in trying to disappear completely. That just made me seem more suspicious.” He gave a paranoid look behind each of his shoulders. “There’s going to be a lot of heat on me for a while. Shinyun and I were… not careful about being seen in the Sunlit Market. I’ll be a person of interest to much of Downworld, and possibly some Shadowhunters as well. Not to mention, Shinyun herself is still out there. Sammael, too, eventually.”

Magnus sighed. “Ragnor, do you know how many hits my reputation has taken over the years? I’m still working. Nobody’s thrown me into the Silent City. Nobody’s hauled me up in front of a faerie court.”

“That’s different,” said Ragnor. “You weren’t working for a Prince of Hell.”

“Ragnor, not long after you faked your death I was being accused of running a cult for Asmodeus.”

“You did start that cult,” Ragnor said, frowning. “It was one of your less funny jokes, as I remember.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I was duly punished for it,” Magnus said.

Ragnor paused in his magical machinations. “No, of course not.” He sighed. “Maybe you can take that kind of heat, Magnus, but I can’t. More to the point, I don’t wish to. I did bad things, working for Sammael. Actual bad things, that I can’t now take back. Just bringing Sammael to Diyu should probably be a capital offense.”

“You were mind-controlled!” said Magnus.

“But I chose to take the third thorn. I chose that. I need time. To atone, I suppose. I’ve been dead for three years; I need to take some time to think of who Ragnor Fell will be when he comes back to life.”

Magnus didn’t say anything for a while as they finished the Portal. “Will I still hear from you? Because if I don’t, I’m going to assume Shinyun has captured you again and I will come for you.”

“Only you could make the promise of rescue sound like a threat,” grumbled Ragnor. “But yes, I expect you’ll have frequent dealings with the new me.”

“Well, that’s something,” Magnus said. He paused. “I didn’t tell Catarina.”

“Nothing?” said Ragnor.

“Nothing. But that’s not fair to her. I’ll tell her when I see her next. It would mean a lot to her to know you’re all right.”

Ragnor looked surprised, but pleased. “Really?”

“Yes,” said Magnus. “You idiot. She cares, more than almost anybody. There are so few of us, and—” He stopped. A terrible thought had occurred to him. “Oh no,” he said. “You’re not going to use that stupid alias again?”

“First of all,” said Ragnor, “I am not going to take naming advice from somebody who could have chosen any name in the world and went with ‘Magnus Bane.’ Second, yes, I am going to use that name.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” said Magnus.

“It’s only appropriate,” Ragnor said with a wink. “I am now, after all, but a Shade of my former self.”

Magnus let out a long groan.

AFTER SAYING GOOD-BYE TO RAGNORand Tian, Alec and the rest of them stepped through the Portal and walked out into a cool autumnal morning in New York. Unfortunately, they were standing in an alley near the Institute, which was redolent with the smell of garbage.

“Ah,” said Simon, “home.”

“Magnus,” said Jace, “why didn’t you just open the Portal directly into the Institute?”

One of the things that Alec had come to enjoy about raising a child with Magnus was that it was adorable when Magnus, the most self-assured, levelheaded man he knew, looked uncertain and awkward. And having a child greatly increased the frequency with which Magnus looked uncertain and awkward.

This was one of those times. Alec wanted to grab him and kiss him, but it did seem like a strange moment for it. “I didn’t want to maybe wake up Max,” Magnus said with a shrug.

Once they got inside, Max was quickly located, crawling happily around on the rug in Maryse’s study while being watched by Maryse, Kadir, and unexpectedly, Catarina. Rather than greeting any of them, Alec found himself discarding his usual self-possession and running to scoop Max up from the ground and hold him tightly. Max was pleased, but clearly puzzled by the intensity of Alec’s affection. After a moment he gave in and began laughing and wriggling happily. Magnus came over and stroked Max’s head affectionately, looking a bit distracted.

Jace and Isabelle had gone to hug Maryse; Simon and Clary were chattering to Kadir and Catarina. Holding Max, Alec leaned into Magnus, savoring the circle the three of them made—here, surrounded by their family and friends. He had risked his life and been thankful to get home safe many times before, but this was different. This was painful and beautiful and terrible and perfect.

Fairly soon, Jace, Clary, Simon, and Isabelle excused themselves to go clean up—they were all streaked with dirt and grime. Alec knew he didn’t look much better, but he didn’t care—he bounced Max in his arms while Magnus dragged Catarina off for a conversation. Alec assumed he wanted to tell her about Ragnor—they had been close for centuries, and she would need to know the whole saga, starting with his not being dead and ending with… wherever he was going now.

For their part, Maryse and Kadir seemed happy, both to have watched Max and also to return the baby to his parents. Max, too, seemed sanguine enough. He bounced contentedly in Alec’s arms.

“Wasn’t too bad?” Alec said, smiling.

“No!” said Maryse. “Not at all. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“I can’t help but notice,” Alec said, “that your arm is in a sling. Also,” he added to Kadir, “that you have two black eyes.”

Kadir and Maryse exchanged glances and then returned to their sunny smiles. “Nothing to do with Max,” Maryse said breezily. “Just a bit of an accident hanging a picture on a high wall.”

“Uh-huh,” said Alec. “So definitely nothing to do with Max?”

“The very idea is ridiculous,” said Kadir solemnly.

“We had an excellent time watching Max,” said Maryse firmly. “And we greatly look forward to doing it again.”

“Again!” agreed Max. Alec chucked him under the chin.

“Hey, kiddo,” Clary said. She and Jace had returned, changed and scrubbed. Her red hair shone. Alec noted that Jace was still carrying his spear from Diyu; apparently he’d grown fond of it. Clary ruffled Max’s blue hair. “Keeping out of trouble?”

“Boof,” Max confided. He high-fived Jace.

“That’s a fine spear, Jace,” said Kadir. “Though I prefer a naginata, myself.”

“Okay,” said Jace. “Mom, Kadir. Clary and I were talking. And I think… I’m willing to run the Institute, but only if I can do it with Clary. Both of us together.”

Maryse seemed delighted. “I think that will work out fine.” She looked over at Alec. “Did you help convince him?”

Alec shook his head. “Nope. He decided on his own. Have you told Isabelle and Simon yet?” he added to Jace.

Jace and Clary exchanged a glance. “We went to Isabelle’s room,” Jace said cautiously, “but they seemed to be, uh, busy.”

“That’s my sister,” said Alec. “I didn’t need to know that.” He looked over at his mother, who was, or was pretending to be, deep in conversation with Kadir.

“At least you didn’t have to hear it,” said Clary.

The corner of Jace’s lip twitched. “I guess Simon has realized that rather than dwelling on life’s uncertainties, you should spend quality time with people you love.”

“Dear God,” said Alec, “I am removing myself and my baby from this conversation.”

He headed across the room to Magnus, still deep in discussion with Catarina. She looked stunned, but managed to smile as Alec approached them carrying Max.

Max held his chubby blue arms out to Magnus. “Ba!” he said.

“Oh, here,” Alec said. “Take the little guy for a minute.” He prepared for the handoff.

Magnus backed away, hands raised as though warding something off. “No, you… you keep him for now. I’ll, uh, I’ll just…”

“What?” said Alec. “What’s wrong?”

Magnus looked around hectically. “I’ve just… I’ve been very monster-y recently. I’m still a little rattled from that. I don’t want to, you know… drop him. Or anything.”

“Magnus,” Alec said. “You aren’t monster-y. You’re Magnus. Take your kid.”

“Excuse us, Alec,” said Catarina, and caught hold of Magnus’s hand. “I need to borrow your boyfriend for a moment.”

CATARINA THRUST MAGNUS INTO Achair in the hallway. He was still slightly dizzy; she had advanced on him and dragged him away from Alec and Max with startling force. Sometimes he forgot how strong she was.

She stared at him intensely. “Don’t do this,” she said.

“What?”

“Don’t do this self-loathing, ‘wah wah I’m a monster’ thing. It’s unbecoming.”

Magnus hesitated. “You didn’t see Shinyun. I got very close to becoming a monster. It’s a complete fluke that I was saved.”

Catarina looked at him skeptically. “I thought it was a very clever plan executed by your boyfriend.”

“Well, yes, but it was a guess on his part. He didn’t know it would work. I’m still not sure why it did work.”

“And so suddenly after hundreds of years you’ve decided that, what, you’re a danger to the people you love? Because you’re a warlock and warlocks have demon parents? You’ve gone through this before, you know, and come out the other side. You don’t need me to give you the speech about how we’re defined by what we do, not what we are. I’ve heard you give that speech yourself.” Catarina’s look was compassionate, but Magnus could feel her aggravation in the set of her shoulders. They really had known each other a very long time.

“It’s different now,” Magnus said. He paused. “Do you remember the Shanghai Club? In 1910?”

Catarina nodded slowly. “It was just after Ephraim passed away.”

“I asked you if raising him had been worth it,” Magnus said. “You gave so much, and he lived a good life… but then he died anyway.”

“Ah,” said Catarina with a small smile. “That’s why it’s different now.”

Magnus nodded sheepishly.

“Magnus, you are surrounded by people who love you. I didn’t let Ephraim go until I made sure he too was surrounded with love. His living to a ripe old age, dying in his bed surrounded by his family—I was so sad when he died, but it was also a victory. I had saved that boy. I had raised him into a man. He had lived, had loved others. He had exactly what I wanted him to have.”

“But Max,” began Magnus, and Catarina waved her hands.

“Magnus, I hate to sound like Ragnor, but you are an idiot sometimes. I am telling you that you are doing good, that you are doing the right things. Your loved ones, your family, will be there to save you when you need saving. And they will be there to help save Max, if he needs saving. You have to trust in that.” She gave him a wry smile. “You are literally the person who taught me that.”

Magnus shook his head, overwhelmed. “You’re right. It’s just hard to remember sometimes. It feels so different now, with Max. My responsibility to him is so huge, so much bigger than any responsibility I’ve felt before.”

“Yep!” said Catarina, folding her arms. “We call that ‘being a parent.’ ”

Magnus held up his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. You win. And since you’re my oldest friend, or one of them…”

“You’re going to ask me for a favor, aren’t you?” said Catarina in a resigned tone.

Magnus reached into his torn and tattered jacket and drew out the Book of the White. “Bring this to the Spiral Labyrinth for me, will you?” he said. “I think I’m done looking after it for now.”

IT WAS ALWAYS STRANGE FORAlec to leave the Institute, to say good-bye to his mother and Isabelle and Jace and… return home. The Institute had been his home for so many years, and while he’d settled into Magnus’s apartment being their apartment, there was still always a brief moment, as they departed, when Alec felt like something was off.

Back at home, Magnus called the Mansion Hotel in Shanghai and arranged to have all their things placed into storage, from which he planned to teleport them home when the hotel staff weren’t looking. Alec played with Max, who crawled happily around the living room, enjoying the quiet of being home. Presently, Magnus returned and scooped up Max, who protested briefly before giving up, breaking into a beaming smile, and immediately beginning to chew on one of Magnus’s buttons.

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Magnus said.

“You know,” said Alec, “I always got that our job was saving the world, but it’s way more terrifying now that Max is here.”

“Excuse me,” said Magnus, “maybe your job is saving the world. My job is harder to summarize, but a significant portion is just about looking good.”

“Oh,” said Alec, “so when the world needs saving, you’re not going to show up and save it? Sure, that sounds like the Magnus I know. Hey, Max!” he added, and Max briefly paused in his intent chewing to look over at Alec. “Is that your bapak? Can you say bapak?”

“He doesn’t say bapak yet,” Magnus said in a whisper. “Don’t pressure him.”

“It’s weird,” said Alec. “It’s a weird life. But it’s the life we’re made for, I guess. And the life we choose.”

“Bapa!” Max yelled loudly, waving an arm. Behind him, one of the curtains in the window burst into flame. Alec sighed, grabbed a couch cushion, and went to beat the fire out.

“Our other job,” said Magnus, “is to keep Max from burning down this whole building until he’s old enough to control his magic.”

Alec smiled. “After Sammael, that seems almost possible.”

“Bpppft,” said Max.

“Bapak?”Alec said again.

Max frowned in concentration, and then began chewing on the button again.

MUCH, MUCH LATER, WHEN ALLwas dark and quiet in the apartment, and they were all back in their own beds, Magnus awoke from fitful dreams. Very carefully he freed himself from the grasp of Alec’s arm, crept out of bed, threw on a sweater over his silk pajamas, and made his way across the hall and into the other bedroom.

Almost immediately, he saw two very blue eyes peering at him over the edge of the crib. The lurking eyes reminded Magnus of a time he’d seen a hippo lying in wait with its eyes just above the waterline.

Magnus strolled toward the crib. “Hey there, you,” he whispered. “I see someone who shouldn’t be up.”

There was a growing twinkle in the blue eyes, as though Max had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar but was hoping to find a co-conspirator to cut in on his illicit cookie deals. When Magnus approached, Max lifted his arms, in silent demand to be scooped up.

“Who’s a wicked, rule-breaking warlock?” said Magnus, complying with the request. “Who’s my baby?”

Max squealed in delight.

Magnus lifted his son up high. Then he tossed Max into the air in a shower of iridescent blue sparks and watched him laugh, perfectly happy, perfectly trusting that when he came down, his father would catch him.

THE SOUND OF SONG RUFFLEDthe calm of Alec’s slumbers. He could’ve easily let himself roll over in their silk sheets and fall back into the luxurious warmth of sleep, but instead he pulled himself to the surface of awareness. He was still drowsy, but the song was sweet, and it made him want to see.

When he slid open the door and peered into Max’s room, he did. Magnus was dressed for comfort at home. In fact, he was wearing one of Alec’s sweaters, the thick worn fabric slipping to one side on his narrower shoulders. As with most things, Magnus made it look good.

“Nina bobo, ni ni bobo,”he was singing in his deep, beautiful voice, an Indonesian lullaby, much older than Magnus himself. He rocked their child in his arms. Max was waving his hands as though to conduct the song, or to catch the firefly-bright and cobalt-blue sparks of magic floating around the room. Magnus was smiling down at Max, a small, tender, and impossibly sweet smile, even as he sang.

Alec meant to let them be and return to bed, but Magnus paused in his song and tossed Alec a glance as though he knew he’d been watching.

Alec leaned in the doorway of the bedroom, resting his hand over his head against the doorframe. “Is that your bapak?” he said to Max.

After some consideration, Max said, “Bapak.”

The look Magnus gave Alec was golden as a coin, as Nephilim wedding cloth, as the morning light through the windows of home.