“It occurs to me," said Hodge, "that the dilemmas of power arealways the same." Clary glanced at him sideways. "What do you mean?"She sat on the window seat in the library, Hodge in his chair with Hugo onthe armrest. The remains of breakfast—sticky jam, toast crumbs, andsmears of butter—clung to a stack of plates on the low table that no onehad seemed inclined to clear away. After breakfast they had scattered toprepare themselves, and Clary had been the first one back. This was hardlysurprising, considering that all she had to do was pull on jeans and a shirtand run a brush through her hair, while everyone else had to armthemselves heavily. Having lost Jace's dagger in the hotel, the onlyremotely supernatural object she had on her was the witchlight stone in herpocket."I was thinking of your Simon," Hodge said, "and of Alec and Jace,among others."She glanced out the window. It was raining, thick fat drops spatteringagainst the panes. The sky was an impenetrable gray. "What do they haveto do with each other?""Where there is feeling that is not requited," said Hodge, "there is animbalance of power. It is an imbalance that is easy to exploit, but it is not awise course. Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can existside by side.""Simon doesn't hate me.""He might grow to, over time, if he felt you were using him.”

“It occurs to me,.. that the dilemmas of power are always the same." ... "Where there is feeling that is not requited,.. there is an imbalance of power. It is an imbalance that is easy to exploit, but it is not a wise course. Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can exist side by side." "Simon doesn't hate me." "He might grow to, over time, if he felt you were using him.”

“Where there is feeling that is not required," said Hodge, "there is an imbalance of power. It is an imbalance that is easy to exploit, but it is not a wise course. Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can exist side by side.”

“I know what you said! My mother would never have belonged to something like that. Some kind of-some kind of hate group.""It wasn't-," Jace began, but Hodge cut him off."I doubt," he said slowly, as if the words pained him, "that she had much choice."Clary stared. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't she have had a choice?""Because," said Hodge, "she was Valentine's wife.”

“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.”

“He glanced furtively up and down the hallway. "Hodge too. Everyone wants to talk to me. Except you, I bet you don't want to talk to me," said Jace."No," said Clary. "I want to eat. I'm starving.”