“No!” Tessa insisted. “We did everything we could for her. We’re still doing everything we can—Kit is safe, for the moment, and hopefully the Riders of Mannan still have no idea he exists. Maybe the Unseelie Court will consider their job done.”

“Maybe,” Jem said dubiously. They both knew it was unlikely to end here, but at least they’d bought Kit some time. “I wish we could do more for him. No child should have to see his father murdered.”

Tessa took his hand. She knew exactly what Jem was thinking about—not just all the orphans scattered through the Shadowhunter world who’d watched their parents cut down in the Dark War, but his own parents, tortured and killed before his eyes. Jem had told no one but Tessa and Will the full horror he’d endured at the hands of that demon, and telling the story even once was almost more than he could stand.

“He’s in good hands,” Tessa assured him. “He’s got a Carstairs by his side. Emma will help him find a new family, as we did with Charlotte, Henry, and Will.”

“And each other,” Jem said.

“And each other.”

“It won’t be a replacement for what he’s lost, though.”

“No. But you can never replace what you’ve lost, can you?” Tessa said. “You can only find new love to fill the void left behind.”

As always, the memory of Will sat between them, his absence a presence.

“We both learned that lesson too young,” Jem said, “but I suppose everyone learns it eventually. Loss is what it means to be human.”

Tessa started to say something—then burst into tears. Jem wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against the racking sobs. Smoothed her hair, rubbed her back, waited for the storm to pass. Her pain was his pain, even when he didn’t understand its source. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m with you.”

Tessa took a deep, shuddering breath, then met his gaze.

“What is it?” he asked. “You can tell me anything.”

“It’s … it’s you.” She touched his face gently. “You’re with me now, but you won’t always be. That’s what it means to be human, like you said. Eventually I’ll lose you. Because you’re mortal, and I’m … me.”

“Tessa …” There were no words to say what he needed to say, that his love for her stretched beyond time, beyond death, that he had spent too much time these last few days imagining his own world without her, that even unfathomable loss could be survived, that they would love each other for as long as they could—so instead, he held her tight, let her feel his arms sturdy and sure around her, physical evidence: I am here.

“Why now?” he asked gently. “Is it something Brother Enoch said?”