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

“A very magnanimous statement, Gideon,” said Magnus.“I’m Gabriel.”Magnus waved a hand. “All Lightwoods look the same to me.”

“I had thought we were friends," he said."I cannot be your friend."He took a step forward. "What if I were to ask you—""Gideon!" It was Henry, at the open door, breathless, wearing one of his terrible green-and-orange-striped waistcoats. "Your brother's here. Downstairs—"Gideon's eyes widened. "Gabriel's here?""Yes. Shouting something about your father, but he won't tell us anything more unless you're there. He swears it. Come along." Gideon hesitated, his eyes moving from Henry to Sophie, who tried to look invisible. "I . . .""Come now, Gideon." Henry rarely spoke sharply, and when he did, the effect was startling. "He's covered in blood.”

“And you love Sophie."Gideon's mouth tensed."She's a mundane and a servant," said Gabriel. "I don't know what you expect to come of it, Gideon.""Nothing," Gideon said roughly. "I expect nothing. But the fact that you believe I should shows that our family brought us up to believe that we should do right only if some reward was the result.”

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

“Will's Father's gaze went immediately to Gabriel, and then to Cecily, his eyes narrowing."And who is this gentlemen?" Will's grin widened. "Oh him," he said. "This is Cecliy's friend, Mr. Gabriel Lightworm." Gabriel, half in the act of stretching his hand to greet Mr. Herondale, froze in horror. "Lightwood," he sputtered. "Gabriel Lightwood.”

“Lightwoods,” Magnus said. “They always have to have the last word.”