Kit became overwhelmed by a fit of coughing. Jem smiled discreetly and patted him on the back.

“Also …,” the faerie said in a rush. “I saw you once, about eight years ago, when you were still … I only got one glimpse, but you seemed so hauntingly sad. And so hauntingly attractive.”

“Thank you,” said Jem. “I’m very happy now. Your cough seems to be getting worse, Kit. Do you need medicine as well?”

Kit straightened up. “Nope, I’m good. Come on, Brother Hauntingly Attractive.”

“There’s no need to mention this to Tessa.”

“And yet,” said Kit, “I’m gonna.”

“Congratulations!” the faerie woman yelled after Jem.

All of his knowledge as a Silent Brother told him the potion was harmless and would do its work. Jem offered another smile over his shoulder to the woman and let Kit pull him toward the row of stalls in the next room across the way. The Market was growing more crowded, so crowded that all the faeries who could take wing were flying overhead. One was being pursued by a werewolf, who was yelling that the faerie had unfairly snatched the last hat in her size. The fleeing faerie’s winged shadow darkened a golden head and broad shoulders that struck Jem as familiar.

“Isn’t that Jace? I think that’s—” Jem began, turning to Kit. Then he saw Kit’s face was white.

Kit was staring over at a tall boy with dark hair and headphones, browsing through a stall and running his fingers through the dried herbs. Jem laid his hand on Kit’s shoulder. Kit seemed oblivious, rooted to the spot, until the boy turned around and had blue eyes and a crooked nose, and was not Ty Blackthorn.

“I have what we came for,” Jem said. He spoke with his usual, and carefully cultivated, calm. “Shall we go, or do you want to look around? We can do whatever you want.”

Kit’s jaw was still set. Jem knew that look. Herondales were always flames, he thought. They loved and suffered as if they would burn away with the sheer force of their own fire.

“Let’s go home,” Kit mumbled.

In spite of his slight disappointment, Jem found himself smiling. It was the first time Kit had called their house that.

The man, who had never had the chance to be Jace Herondale and who was no longer Jace at all, was starting to think that coming here had been a bad idea.

The Seelie Queen had been the one to insist he should have a new name, when he made his way to Faerie wanting protection for Ash and help with his plans. The Queen had answered all his questions about Clary, but her help hadn’t come free. Royalty tended to make demands.

“I’m accustomed to the other Jace,” she said with a regal sneer. “Though I admit, not overly fond. What else can we call you?”