He went over to Magnus, sliding an arm around his waist. Since they were going to a club, Magnus had swept silver glitter under his golden eyes, and he looked like starshine and moonlight.

“I know you were dancing,” Alec said in his ear. “But that band was terrible, right?”

“I can dance to anything,” Magnus murmured back, “but I have personally heard Mozart play. Also the Sex Pistols in their best days. I can confirm Simon’s band is beyond terrible.”

Alec’s friends were gathered all around him, and his family, and it was one of those moments when he remembered the desperate loneliness of when he was younger, hopelessly torn between fearing for what he might never have and what he might lose. Alec secured his hold on Magnus’s waist and felt a small incredulous starburst of happiness in his chest: that he could have all this.

“Tacos again next time?” Alec had whispered as they left, and Clary nodded behind Simon’s back.

That was how Alec had come to love her, after resenting her so much at first: in the greatest or smallest of ways, Clary never failed.

She hadn’t failed him now. She’d sent a picture saying WE HAVE BEEN IMPRISONED BY THE DREAD PIRATE MAX! Alec suspected this was a joke he didn’t understand.

Clary was at an odd angle taking the selfie, but he could see Magnus and Max well enough. Magnus had dashed brilliant blue color through the front of his hair. Max was holding on to Magnus’s spiky blue locks and Clary’s red curls with one hand each and looking supremely self-satisfied. Magnus was laughing.

“Oh, look,” said Alec softly, and showed Rafael the picture.

Rafael snatched the phone, then skipped away to contemplate the photo further.

Alec let him keep it for now. He and Jem stopped at the door of the Buenos Aires Institute. As Alec had hoped, Joaquín was guarding the door again. He greeted Alec happily, then gave the faint scars on Jem’s face a startled glance.

“Are you the Silent Brother whom the heavenly fire changed?” he asked eagerly. “The one who—”

“Ran off and married a warlock, yes,” said Jem. Somewhere in his quiet voice and his smile, there was an edge of shining defiance.

“I’m sure she’s very nice,” said Joaquín hastily.

“She is,” Alec confirmed.

“I don’t know many Downworlders,” Joaquín said apologetically. “Though I met Alec’s friend yesterday! She also seemed … nice. There are a lot of nice Downworlders, I’m sure! Just not in our city. They say the Queen of the Shadow Market is a terrifying tyrant.”

Alec thought of Juliette with her kids gathered around her.

“I didn’t think so.”

Joaquín looked at him with wide eyes. “I bet you’re not afraid of anything, though.”

“Some things,” said Alec. “Failing. You know there’s something wrong with your Institute, don’t you? I want to believe you’re not part of it, but you have to know something is very wrong.”