Clary looked at Alec steadily. She remembered what Isabelle had told her earlier, about knowing whether Jace was dead or not, and what she had said back. “Alec,” she said. “Don’t you feel anything?”
Alec’s eyes flew open, their blue darkening, and for a moment, Clary remembered the boy who had hated her when she first arrived at the Institute, the boy with bitten nails and holes in his sweaters and a chip on his shoulder that seemed immovable. “I know you’re upset, Clary,” he said, his voice sharp, “but if you’re suggesting that Iz and I care less about Jace than you do —”
“I’m not,” Clary said. “I’m talking about your parabatai connection.”
Posted by Rapunzel
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