July City Of Glass Cookie From Cassie Clare

“But you’re supposed to be in New York!” Isabelle exclaimed. “Jace
said you’d changed your mind about coming. He said you wanted to stay
with your mother!”
“Jace lied,” Clary said flatly. “He didn’t want me here, so he lied to
me about when you were leaving, and then lied to you about me changing
my mind. Remember when you told me he never lies? That was so not
true.”
“He normally never does,” said Isabelle, who had gone rather pale.
“Look, did you come here -- I mean, does this have something to do
with Simon?”
“With Simon? No. Simon’s safe in New York, thank God. Although he’s
going to be really pissed that I left without telling him.” Isabelle’s
blank expression was starting to annoy Clary. “Come on, Isabelle. Let
me in. I need to see Jace.”
“So . . . You just came here on your own? Did you have permission from
the Clave? Please tell me you had permission from the Clave.” There
was a pleading note in Isabelle’s voice.
“Not as such --”
“You broke the Law?” Isabelle’s voice rose, then dropped. She went on,
almost in a whisper, “If Jace finds out, he’ll freak. Clary, you’ve
got to go home.”
“No. I’m supposed to be here,” Clary said, not even sure herself quite
where her stubbornness was coming from. “And I need to talk to Jace.”
“Now isn’t a good time.” Isabelle looked around anxiously, as if
hoping there was someone she could appeal to to remove Clary from the
premises. “Please, just go back to New York. Please?”
“I thought you liked me, Izzy.” Clary went for the guilt.
Isabelle’s eyes widened further. She was wearing a white dress and had
her hair pinned up and looked younger than usual. Behind her Clary
could see a high-ceilinged entryway hung with antique-looking oil
paintings. “I do like you. It’s just that Jace -- oh my God, what are
you wearing? Where did you get fighting gear?”
Clary looked down at herself. “It’s a long story.”
“You can’t come in here like that. If Jace sees you --”
“Oh, so what if he sees me? Isabelle, I came here because of my mother
-- for my mother. Jace may not want me here, but he can’t make me stay
home. I’m supposed to be here. My mother would want me to do this for
her. You’d do it for your mother, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I would,” Isabelle said. “But Clary, Jace has reasons --”
“Then I’d love to hear what they are.” Clary ducked under Isabelle’s
arm and into the house.
“Clary!” Isabelle yelped, and darted after her, but Clary was already
halfway down the hall. She saw, with the half of her mind that wasn’t
concentrating on dodging Isabelle, that the house was build like
Amatis’ -- tall and narrow -- but considerably larger and more richly
decorated. The hallway opened into a room with high windows that
looked out over a wide canal. White boats plied the water, their sails
drifting by like dandelion clocks tossed on the wind. A dark-haired
boy sat on a couch by one of the windows, reading a book.
“Sebastian!” Isabelle called. “Don’t let her go upstairs!”
The boy looked up, startled --and a moment later was in front of
Clary, blocking her path to the stairs. Clary skidded to a halt —
she’d never seen anyone move that fast before, except Jace. The boy
wasn’t even out of breath; in fact, he was smiling at her.
“So this is the famous Clary." His smile lit up his face, and Clary
felt her breath catch.
For years she'd drawn her own ongoing graphic novel, which she'd
hardly ever showed to anyone, the tale of a king's son who was under a
curse that meant that everyone he loved would die. She'd been awfully
proud of the dark, romantic, shadowy prince she'd created — and here
he was, standing in front of her: the same pale skin, the same
tumbling black hair and deep-set, shadowed eyes. The same high
cheekbones and black fringe of lashes. She knew she’d never set eyes
on this boy before, and yet —
“I’m Sebastian Verlac.” He held out his hand. "Aline's cousin."
“Sebastian!" Isabelle's hair had come out of its pins and hung down
over her shoulders, and she was glaring.“Don’t be nice to her. She’s
not supposed to be here. Clary, go home.”

-Emma