“Napier surfaced next to her and propped his arms on the ledge. "I meant to ask - can you swim?""No," she said through chattering teeth, "Actually I can't."He cocked his head to the side and looked perplexed. "Your lips are blue.""I'm cold," she said curtly."Want me to warm you up?" he asked, grinning."I'd rather be cold," she snapped, hating him more by the second.”

“And then she frowned, and shook her head, then put her arms around him once more, pressing her face into his shoulder, making a noise that sounded almost like rage.'What's up?' he asked.'Nothing. Oh, nothing. Just...' She looked up at him. 'I thought I'd finally got rid of you.''I don't think you can.' he said”

“She wandered over to the enclosed range, a rather modern-looking contraption that Cook had purchased earlier in the year. “Do you know how to work this?” she asked.“No idea. You?”Daphne shook her head. “None.” She reached forward and gingerly touched the surface of the stove top. “It's not hot.”“Not even a little bit?”She shook her head. “It's rather cold, actually.”Brother and sister were silent for a few seconds.“You know,” Anthony finally said, “cold milk might be quite refreshing.”“I was just thinking that very thing!”

“Are you all right?" he said.Water dripped down his face and long nose.He's talking to you! her mind yelled. He's talking to you! Say something clever! Say something clever!Azalea said, "Mffloscoflphus?""The water is rather cold," he said. He pulled her to the bank. Azalea chattered and shivered and coughed, and he continued asking her if she was all right. She wasn't.She was morbidly embarrassed,that's what she was.”

“She folded her arms and said, "No. We're done with the truth game. Ask me what you want to ask me, and I'll answer or not if I like. I'll ask you anything I want, and you'll answer or not if you like. No forfeit, no control, no balance. No more favors or deals or measuring shit. We'll either have a real, messy conversation, or you can get the hell out."He grew angry. She could feel it shifting through his energy, slow and sulfurous like slow-moving lava.She liked it. His anger felt satisfying. It meant he wasn't indifferent to her. So she pushed him harder. "Go on, go.”

“Maybe I could love you someday."If you ever do," he said, "come and let me know. You know where to find me."Her teeth were chattering harder. "I can't lose you, Simon. I can't."You never will. I'm not leaving you. But I'd rather have what we have, which is real and true and important, than have you pretend anything else. When I'm with you, I want to know I'm with the real you, the real Clary."She leaned her head against his, closing her eyes. He still felt like Simon, despite everything; still smelled like him, like his laundry soap. "Maybe I don't know who that is."But I do.”