“And I don’t see how Sebastian can be all that fond of Jace, either. He was horribly jealous of him all his life. He thought Jace was Valentine’s favorite,” added Clary.“Not to mention,” Magnus noted, “that Jace killed him. That would put anyone off.”

“We came to see Jace,” Clary said. “Is he all right?”“I don’t know,” Magnus said. “Does he normally just lie on the floor like that without moving?”“What-” Alec began, and broke off as Magnus laughed. “That’s not funny.”“You‘re so easy to tease. And yes, your friend is just fine. Well, except that he keeps putting all my things away and trying to clean up. Now I cant find anything. He‘s compulsive.”“Jace does like things neat,” Clary said…“Well I don’t.”

“Magnus looked at her meditatively. 'I think,' he said, 'there isn't much that Jace wouldn't do for you, if you asked him.'Clary opened her mouth and then shut it again. She thought of the way Magnus had always seemed to know how Alec felt about Jace, how Simon felt about her. Her feelings for Jace must be written on her face even now, and Magnus was an expert reader. She glanced away.”

“And when Jace was ten years old, Valentine killed him. Michael,I mean.""That sounds like something he would do," said Luke. His tone was neutral, but there was something in his voice that made Clary look at him sideways. Did he not believe her?"Jace saw him die, " she added, as if to bolster her claim."That's awful," said Luke. "Poor messed-up kid.”

“But Jace", Clary said. "Valentine taught him more than just fighting. He taught him languages, and how to play the piano""That was Jocelyn's influence." Sebastian said her name unwillingly, as if he hated the sound of it. "She thought Valentine ought to be able to talk about books, art, music...not just killing things. He passed that on to Jace."A wrought iron blue gate rose to their left. Sebastian ducked under it and beckoned Clary to follow him. She didn't have to duck but went after him, her hands stuffed into her pockets. "What about you?" she asked.He held up his hands. They were unmistakably her mother's hands - dexterous, long-fingered, meant for holding a brush or a pen. "I learned to play the instruments of war, " he said, "and paint in blood. I am not like Jace.”

“You look happy," he said to Clary. He swiveled his gaze to Jace. "And a good thing for you that she does."Jace raised an eyebrow. "Is this the part where you tell me that if I hurt her, you'll kill me?""No," said Simon, "If you hurt Clary, she's quite capable of killing you herself. Possibly with a variety of weapons."Jace looked pleased by the thought.”