“They also said she was unconscious and that Valentine wasn’t happy about it. He seems to be waiting for her to wake up.”“I’d stay unconscious if I were her,” Isabelle muttered.”

“It's my motto," said Isabelle, with a sultry smile. 'Nothing less than seven inches.'Meliorn gazed at her stonily.'I'm talking about my heels,' she said. " It's a pun. You know? A play on-""Come," the faerie knight said. "The Queen will be growing impatient." He headed down the corridor without giving Isabelle a second glance."I forgot," Isabelle muttered as the rest of them caught up to her. " Faeries have no sense of humor.""Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Jace. "There's a pixie night club called Hot Wings. Not," he added," that I have ever been there.”

“I forgot," Isabelle muttered as the rest of them caught up to her. "Faeries have no sense of humor.""Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Jace. "There's a pixie nightclub downtown called Hot Wings. Not," he added, "that I have ever been there.”

“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.”

“Isabelle," she said, lightening her tone with an obvious effort, "your loyalty to your friend is understandable --""He's not my friend." Isabelle looked over at Jace, who was staring at her in a sort of daze. "He's my brother.”

“You're gorgeous," she said. Her hands slid around to flatten themselves against his chest. "You know that right?" "And I just don't care," she says"Isabelle, I don't think-Wait, What?”

“There was a small wooden gazebo built out over the water; Isabelle was sitting in it, staring out across the lake. She looked like a princess in a fairy tale, waiting at the top of her tower for someone to ride up and rescue her. Not that traditional princess behavior was like Isabelle at all. Isabelle with her whip and boots and knives would chop anyone who tried to pen her up in a tower into pieces, build a bridge out of the remains, and walk carelessly to freedom, her hair looking fabulous the entire time.”