Whatever The Clave Was Discussing, The Council

It's The Mortal Cup Jace, Not The Mortal Toilet Bowl.

Now Very Much Against Her Will, She Thought Of The Way Jace Had Looked At Her Then, The Blaze Of Faith In His Eyes, His Belief In Her. He Had Always Thought She Was Strong. He Had Showed It In Everything He Did, In Every Look And Every Touch. Simon Had Faith In Her Too, Yet When He'd Held Her, It Had Been As If She Were Something Fragile, Something Made Of Delicate Glass. But Jace Had Held Her With All The Strength He Had, Never Wondering If She Could Take It--he'd Known She Was As Strong Has He Was.

It's So Dark," She Said Lamely. "you Want Me To Hold Your Hand?" Clary Put Both Her Hands Behind Her Back Like A Small Child. "don't Talk Down To Me." "well, I Could Hardly Talk Up To You. You're Too Short.

He Played Of Love And Loss And Years Of Silence, Words Unsaid And Vows Unspoken, And All The Spaces Between His Heart And Theirs; And When He Was Done, And He'd Set The Violin Back In Its Box, Will's Eyes Were Closed, But Tessa's Were Full Of Tears.

Henry Turned As If To Dart Out Of The Room, Then Swung Around And Stared At Them, A Look Of Confusion Passing Over His Freckled Face, As If He Had Only Now Had Cause To Wonder Why Will, Tessa, And Jem Might Be Crouching Together In A Mostly Disused Storage Room. "what Are You Three Doing In Here, Anyway?" Will Tilted His Head To The Side And Smiled At Henry. "charades," He Said. "massive Game.