Lily cleared her throat. “The kid asked: ‘Who is that cool man?’”

“Oh,” said Alec, kneeling by the bed. “Oh, that’s—that’s Magnus. His name is Magnus Bane. He’s my—I’m his—he and I are going to get married.”

One day they would.

Alec wasn’t sure why it felt important to tell this child.

Lily translated. Rafael looked from the phone to Alec’s face, then back again, his brow furrowed in clear surprise. Alec waited, and listened apprehensively as Rafael said something Alec couldn’t understand. He’d heard kids say terrible things before now. Adults poured poison in their minds, and then it came out of their mouths.

Lily laughed.

“He said,” she reported with unholy joy, “‘What is that cool man doing with you?’”

Alec said, “Rafael, give me back my phone.”

“Let him have it for a bit while he goes to sleep,” said Lily, who was one of the reasons Max was spoiled.

Alec glanced over and found Lily wearing an unusually serious look.

“Come here to me a minute,” she said. “I promised to tell you why I didn’t want you to go near that faerie woman at the Shadow Market. I have a story I want you to hear, that I think might help Jem. I don’t want to tell anybody but you.”

Alec let Rafael keep the phone. In return, Rafael let Alec tuck him into bed. Alec took the chair by the door and placed it by Lily’s bed. They waited until Rafael’s eyes fell shut, with Alec’s phone on the pillow beside him.

Lily studied the striped pillow on her bed as if it were fascinating.

“Are you hungry?” Alec asked at last. “If you—need blood, you can take mine.”

Lily glanced up, her face startled. “No. I don’t want that. You’re not for that.”

Alec tried not to show how relieved he was. Lily looked back down at the pillow and squared her shoulders.

“Remember when you asked me if I was a jazz baby, and I said to call me the jazz baby?”

“I’m still not going to do that.”

“I still think you should,” Lily argued. “But that’s … not what I meant. The 1920s were my favorite decade, but … I may have been misleading you about my age.” She grinned. “It’s a lady’s prerogative.”

“Okay,” Alec said, not sure where this was going. “So—how old are you, then?”

“I was born in 1885,” said Lily. “I think. My mother was a Japanese peasant girl, and she was—sold to my father, a rich Chinese merchant.”

“Sold!” said Alec. “That’s not—”

“It wasn’t legal,” Lily said in a tight voice. “But it happened. They lived together for a few years, in Hong Kong, where he worked. I was born there. My mother thought my father would take us back home with him. She taught me to speak the way he would want and dress the way he would want, like a Chinese lady. She loved him. He got tired of her. He left, and before he left, he sold us off. I grew up in a place called the House of Eternal Pearl.”