“And you should not be out and about in your nightgown. There are Lightwoods wandering these halls.”

“You are the Lightwoods — you are all that is left of the Lightwoods.”

“Something snapped inside Maryse. “He is not a Herondale. He is a Lightwood. Jace Lightwood. He’s my son.”

“Gideon Lightwood said he was at the Institute in Madrid. What on earth was he doing there?''Faffing about, most likely', said Will.”

“He's a cousin of some friends of the Lightwoods or something. He's nice. I promise." "Nice, bah. He's gorgeous." Magnus gazed dreamily in his direction. "You should leave him here. I could hang hats on him and things." "No. You can't have him." "Why not? Do you like him?" Magnus's eyes gleamed. "He seems to like you. I saw him going for your hand out there like a squirrel diving for a peanut.”

“Mr. Lightwood," she said, raising herself up on her elbows. "Are those scones under your bed?”

“Are you allowed to date faeries?” Clary asked finally. “Would your-would the Lightwoods be cool with Isabelle and whatshisname-”“Meliron,” put in Simon.“-Meliron going out?”“I‘m not sure they‘re going out,” Jace said, weighting the last two words with a heavy irony. “I‘d guess they mostly stay in. or in this case, under.”