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Christopher had never really enjoyed being in coffee shops before. It was far too loud for his taste, and most of the time, their drinks weren’t even that good.

That was before his friends stated regularly meeting there. Now, he frequented the place. He went in every day before his morning classes to meet with his friends. It had become a tradition of sorts for them, and Christopher enjoyed it more than he’d like to admit.

Their drinks were better than he’d thought, the atmosphere was outstanding, and the barista just happened to be really, really pretty.

Christopher stumbled into the small coffee shop, offering a small wave to his friends before claiming his spot in line.

Before he knew it, Grace—the pretty barista in question— was waving him forward with a broad smile on her face. He couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. He hoped it was.

“Hi, Christopher,” she chirped.

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. “You know my name?”

She looked down for a moment before regaining her confidence and meeting his eye again, a mischievous gleam in her gray eyes. “Well, you come here nearly every day. And your friends aren’t exactly quiet, either.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. We aren’t exactly the quietest customers.”

“What can I get you? Wait, let me guess,” she said, a smile playing at her lips. “A sweet tea and a lemon tart?”

“You know me so well,” he joked, pulling out his wallet and getting ready to pay.

“Well, you can actually tell a lot about a person by their coffee order. For example, I happen to know that you really like lemon tarts.” She grabbed a lemon tart from the display case, handing it to Christopher. “Alright, I’ll let you know when it’s ready. Have a good day!”

He spluttered, somehow dripping both his phone and his wallet. “Don’t I need to pay?”

“Oh, it’s on me.”

Stunned and Confused, Christopher went to sit down his friends.

“Hey Kit,” said James. “You alright?”

“Grace remembered my name,” he said, his head still spinning from the encounter.

“We come here every day,” Matthew said with a laugh. “Of course she remembers your name.”

“She’s friends with Alastair,” Thomas said helpfully. “She might know you through him.”

“Or maybe she just likes you,” Matthew offered. “She’s never that nice to me! She even spat in my coffee once.”

“I’m sure you deserved it,” said James with a hoarse laugh. “Were you flirting with her?”

“Only a little.”

“Then you deserved it,” said Thomas.

Matthew crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m just trying to help our beloved Christopher here get a girlfriend! What’s wrong with trying to help?”

“I don’t need a girlfriend!” Christopher exclaimed, a little too loudly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Grace tilt her head back in laughter.

Ok, maybe he needed a girlfriend. Christopher slumped back into his seat as Matthew’s hysteric cackle drowned out the sound of Grace’s melodic laugh.

“Come on, Matthew,” said Cordelia, her head on James’ shoulder. “Maybe you can lecture him once you’re able to keep a partner for more than a week.”

The table exploded in laughter.

“Some of us are simply not built for commitment,” Matthew said simply, raising his hands as if he were surrendering.

“Says the person that makes us come to the same coffee shop every day,” Lucie grumbled.

“Christopher?” Grace called from the bar.

“Now’s your chance,” said Matthew, practically pushing Christopher out of his chair. “Get her number! Or, better yet, I can get her number for you!”

“What, and have her spit in my tea?” Christopher asked with a scoff. “No, thanks. I think I’ll be fine.”

He scurried over to the counter, where Grace handed him his tea before rushing back to the cash register to help the next customer.

He was about to return to his table when he saw a phone number written in neat handwriting. Christopher looked back at the counter to see that Grace was already staring at him. She sent him a wide smile, then quickly turned back to the customer she was helping.

“So?” Thomas asked after he’d returned. “Did you ask for her number?”

He shifted his cup so they could see what she had written. “I didn’t have to.”

Matthew clapped Christopher harshly on the back, and he nearly spilled his drink all over himself.

In all honesty, Christopher had no idea why he’d volunteered to watch Grace overnight. Maybe it was because he felt sorry for her. Perhaps it was because of pity, but he’d be lying if he said that she didn’t intrigue him.

She sat on the floor, her head buried in her hands. She hadn’t said anything to him or the rest of the Merry Thieves since James had told them to watch her in case she “tried anything.”

Christopher wasn’t fully aware of what had happened between James and Grace, but he knew better than to ask questions.

“Can I get you anything?” Christopher asked her. “Perhaps some tea?”

Her voice was muffled by her hands, and he struggled to hear her. “You shouldn’t be offering your prisoner tea, Mr. Lightwood.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

She pulled her head out of her hands and laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Her eyes darted across the room, looking at anything but him. “What would you call me, then? An unwilling guest? I’m trapped here, and you’re trapped with me.”

“I don’t feel so trapped,” he said. “And you shouldn’t, either.”

“And why is that? Does a criminal deserve to feel free?”

“You’re not a criminal, Miss Blackthorn.”

She winced at her surname. “Please, just call me Grace.”

“You are not a criminal, Grace. You did what you had to do in order to survive. Any of us would have done the same if we were put into your situation. It isn’t right of us to blame you for that.”

She sighed, curling in on herself further. Her voice was barely audible. “Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not quite sure your friends feel the same way.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Christopher said. “It just matters what the clave will think.”

“Don’t even get me started on what the clave is going to think. They may have been the ones to get me into this mess, but they would never get me out of it.”

“What do you mean? The clave— the clave can help you.”

She laughed bitterly. “They can. But they won’t. Do you truly think they’ll sympathize with the accomplice of a prince of hell?”

“Unwilling accomplice,” Christopher insisted. “That’s what you were. And the Mortal Sword will prove it. And then they’ll have to help you. My aunt Charlotte—“

“If you think she’ll go easy on me, you’re sadly mistaken. She’s not my aunt. To me, she’s just the Consul.”

He stood from his seat, crossing the room to sit next to Grace on the floor. “We will get you through this,” he whispered. “I promise you.”

She sat up, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “Don’t make promises you have no intention of keeping, Mr Lightwood.”

“Just Christopher, please. And I’ve every intention of keeping this promise.”

She froze, making eye contact with him for the first time that night. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m afraid you won’t have much of a say in the matter.”

Christmas was always odd for Grace Cartwright. Up until recently, she never really had any loved ones to share it with. Well, she’d had her brother and Tatiana, but Tatiana had never allowed them to celebrate.

It was odd to look back on what her life was like such a short time ago. Back then, she had nobody. Now, she had a group a friends that loved her, a boyfriend who helped her love herself a little more every day. She had a family now, though they were not related to her by blood. They had all helped her so much, and it was only fitting that they should receive Christmas gifts equally as amazing as them.

Lucie’s gift was probably the easiest. At the local bookstore, Grace purchased a journal printed with an antique-looking floral design. In all honesty, the design reminded her of the rug in the Herondales’ living room.

While at the bookstore, Grace remembered James’ list of the books he’d been meaning to read. He’d sent the list to the group chat a few months prior, complaining about how he had “too many good books to read and too little time.” Grace selected a few books from the list and purchased them.

Thomas and Alastair, who had recently moved in together, both had a strange affinity for plants. Grace selected a succulent for each of them, hoping they wouldn’t find a way to kill them within the week.

Cordelia’s gift was next. The girl had an odd fascination with swords and daggers, and had dragged Grace to several museums to look at the weaponry displayed there. It had taken her a long time to find one that suited Cordelia, but Grace managed to buy a replica sword engraved with the words “I am Cortana, of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Durendal.” Grace probably would have preferred it without the engraving, but she was sure her friend would love it nonetheless.

Jesse’s gift was possibly the hardest to find. Though Grace had known him most of her life, she couldn’t figure out what to get him. He’d been adamant that he didn’t want a gift, but she just couldn’t not get him one. Grace had eventually settled on a silver locket with a thorn wreath engraved into it. It was a little odd to get him such a present, but she knew he would like it.

Christopher had two gifts. The first gift was fairly simple: a limited edition copy of one of his favorite biographies of Marie Curie. The other, however, was a stainless steel band, the ring she’d gotten the measurements for while he was asleep, nearly waking him up in the process. She was beside herself with both worry and giddiness, eager to give it to him but also terrified of his answer. Because she was going to propose to Christopher Lightwood.

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Tag list (I forgot I had one of these): @fortheloveofthecarstairs @thehotfaeriethreesome @shadowrunner2000 @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @gabtapia @niastormbolastairkanejsambucky @all-thestoriesaretrue

- Alec isn’t very big on gifts but when he does give gifts, he makes them meaningful.

- For Jace, well, because they’re parabatai, he gives Jace lots of spaghetti for his bath.

- He never let him live it down when clary told him about it.

- He also gave him a large box of stuffed ducks

- (A forbidden video footage in Magnus’s phone has one of the best warriors screaming and hiding behind his wife while Simon, Alec and Izzy cry from laughing so hard)

- In all seriousness, his actual gifts were something he thought hard about.

- Clary helped him out a bit. (So did Magnus with his knowledge on Herondales)

- Him and Magnus were visiting Tessa when he got ideas.

- Apparently, Tessa didn’t put away daggers that belonged to a certain Carstairs.

- She didn’t put away a few letters too.

- Letters sent from another Lightwood, at another time, to another love.

- “Magnus, there was another gay Lightwood-“ “darling, I know” “and yOU DIDNT TELL ME?!”

- Which is how he got the idea of carving a quote into a dagger.

- In the end, his actual gifts were a new dagger, carved with one of the things he says about Clary (thanks to their visit to Cirenworth), a book (signed by the author and first edition, courtesy of Tessa), and some quality hair gel.

- (Jace loved it. He hugged a very reluctant Alec. Magnus and Clary both have pictures)

- For Isabelle, it was really very simple.

- Every time he went out with Magnus and Izzy on one of their many shopping sprees, Izzy would gawk at a beautiful dress she saw.

- So really. Very simple.

- He also gave her a bracelet which is really just a weapon that’s concealed.

- Thanks to Magnus who was talking about Henry Fairchild and his genius inventions. And the inventions he would make for Charlotte.

- Alec thought Henry’s ideas were genius which was how his idea was formed.

- (Isabelle wears the bracelet daily and the dress for special parties and occasions. She loves it)

- For Clary, he was strolling around with his family then came across this Jem gem

- He loved it.

- But he did give her some art materials that he saw while shopping and a duck onesie in case her and Jace have a child.

- (Clary says she hates the mug but is seen drinking from it multiple times. She adores the onesie and uses the paint so much it runs out after about a week or two)

- For Simon, he really couldn’t care less.

- He is forced to give a present to him because Izzy threatened to cook for him and his family.

- He did give it a lot of thought tho.

- Since him and Simon bond over being archers, he decided to give him his old bow.

- Magnus suggested it since Alec wasn’t using it anymore and it was still in pretty good shape.

- (Simon would have hugged Alec on his own if he wasn’t so scared of him. Izzy forces him to)

- For Magnus, well, if you asked him he’d say he didn’t panic but spoiler alert he did.

- He got the idea while he was talking with Magnus.

- Magnus was telling him about his best memory with his family.

- Which is how Alec got his idea. But he needed some help. Tessa’s help.

- Well, he really just needed to ask Tessa about the bracelet she still wears.

- When he asked, he only received a smile. A bittersweet smile.

- “It was given to me by Will. He had Magnus himself enchant it for me. So yes, I think he would really love that gift. It would remind him of good times. I’ll help with it”

- He ended up giving Magnus a locket.

- Not just a locket. A magical locket. One that contains his favourite memory.

- And Magnus can put previous memorable memories and future ones too.

- He also gave him a shit ton of glitter that’s safe for clothes.

- (Both gifts earned him many kisses which would’ve sufficed for a Christmas gift in Alec’s opinion)

- For Max and Rafe, he decided to spoil his children with all the toys they want.

- He made them write a list of things they want.

- The man was struggling to find gifts okay?

- Him and Magnus got them everything in the list.

- (He got very happy kids excitedly opening their gifts. He was rewarded with hugs and big, toothy grins)

- Well, maybe Christmas and gifts aren’t so bad, thought Alec as he watched his family’s happy faces.

- I changed my mind they are, Alec thought while chasing a Max who got a knife and a Rafe with a whip.

The little baby Barbara was calmly watching them with dark eyes, playing with the blanket in her lap.

“What is so complicated about them?” Cecily said. She made a face at the baby and she giggled. “They are just small humans you have to feed and change the diapers time to time.”

“You have to do it multiple times a day,” Gabriel said. He had found what he was looking for - the special toy with which Barbara was going to sleep every time.

“Chill,” Cecily said, sitting on a chair as she watched Gabriel bustling around their niece. “One day it will be our full time job, you need to calm down.”

He froze and looked at her with such terrified face like Cecily told him Barbara is an alien. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Oh sweet Raziel,” Cecily sighed. “We take the baby for a few days and you're already a sleep-dehydrated mess.”

She got up from her chair and took the baby's toy from Gabriel's hands.

“Go to bed. Now,” she paused. “Okay, this sounded less sexual in my head.”

“But-”

“No! You need a rest. Go to our bedroom. I'll take care of Barbara.”

Gabriel ran a hand through his face and hair. He looked pale and had a dark circles under his eyes. He really needed a rest. “Okay. Okay. I'm going.”

He left the room, glancing one last time at the baby.

“Here you go, little lady,” Cecily murmured, wrapping her in the blanket. Barbara grabbed the toy and happily hugged it.

“I hope your daddy Gideon isn't like your uncle Gabriel,” she said. “Or Raziel help mummy Sophie.”

Cecily continued to quietly talking to her, gently stoking her head. She was definitely getting attached to this little human.

After ten minuets Cecily left the room, carefully closing the door. Gabriel was in the bedroom, obviously just out of the shower. His hair was a little wet.

He turned to her with questioning look.

“She is sleeping soundly,” Cecily reassured him. “The madam is a very good baby.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Okay.”

She turned to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the wardrobe.

“Hey,” Gabriel gently took her hands in his. “Thank you for this. I'm kind of freaked out my brother has a child.”

“No joke,” Cecily said but with a smile. She placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed his nose, a small, fleeting kiss that made Gabriel close his eyes. Then she crushed her lips into his. She wrapped her hands around his neck and buried his fingers into his hair.

“What would I do without you?” he murmured, his forehead against hers.

Cecily gave him one last, quick kiss on the cheek and pulled away.

“I'll take shower now,” she said, grabbing a towel. “When I come back, you better be asleep.”

With a smile Gabriel turned away and sat on the bed. He leaned back and sighed happily, closing his eyes.

Christopher had never really enjoyed being in coffee shops before. It was far too loud for his taste, and most of the time, their drinks weren’t even that good.

That was before his friends stated regularly meeting there. Now, he frequented the place. He went in every day before his morning classes to meet with his friends. It had become a tradition of sorts for them, and Christopher enjoyed it more than he’d like to admit.

Their drinks were better than he’d thought, the atmosphere was outstanding, and the barista just happened to be really, really pretty.

Christopher stumbled into the small coffee shop, offering a small wave to his friends before claiming his spot in line.

Before he knew it, Grace—the pretty barista in question— was waving him forward with a broad smile on her face. He couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. He hoped it was.

“Hi, Christopher,” she chirped.

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. “You know my name?”

She looked down for a moment before regaining her confidence and meeting his eye again, a mischievous gleam in her gray eyes. “Well, you come here nearly every day. And your friends aren’t exactly quiet, either.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. We aren’t exactly the quietest customers.”

“What can I get you? Wait, let me guess,” she said, a smile playing at her lips. “A sweet tea and a lemon tart?”

“You know me so well,” he joked, pulling out his wallet and getting ready to pay.

“Well, you can actually tell a lot about a person by their coffee order. For example, I happen to know that you really like lemon tarts.” She grabbed a lemon tart from the display case, handing it to Christopher. “Alright, I’ll let you know when it’s ready. Have a good day!”

He spluttered, somehow dripping both his phone and his wallet. “Don’t I need to pay?”

“Oh, it’s on me.”

Stunned and Confused, Christopher went to sit down his friends.

“Hey Kit,” said James. “You alright?”

“Grace remembered my name,” he said, his head still spinning from the encounter.

“We come here every day,” Matthew said with a laugh. “Of course she remembers your name.”

“She’s friends with Alastair,” Thomas said helpfully. “She might know you through him.”

“Or maybe she just likes you,” Matthew offered. “She’s never that nice to me! She even spat in my coffee once.”

“I’m sure you deserved it,” said James with a hoarse laugh. “Were you flirting with her?”

“Only a little.”

“Then you deserved it,” said Thomas.

Matthew crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m just trying to help our beloved Christopher here get a girlfriend! What’s wrong with trying to help?”

“I don’t need a girlfriend!” Christopher exclaimed, a little too loudly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Grace tilt her head back in laughter.

Ok, maybe he needed a girlfriend. Christopher slumped back into his seat as Matthew’s hysteric cackle drowned out the sound of Grace’s melodic laugh.

“Come on, Matthew,” said Cordelia, her head on James’ shoulder. “Maybe you can lecture him once you’re able to keep a partner for more than a week.”

The table exploded in laughter.

“Some of us are simply not built for commitment,” Matthew said simply, raising his hands as if he were surrendering.

“Says the person that makes us come to the same coffee shop every day,” Lucie grumbled.

“Christopher?” Grace called from the bar.

“Now’s your chance,” said Matthew, practically pushing Christopher out of his chair. “Get her number! Or, better yet, I can get her number for you!”

“What, and have her spit in my tea?” Christopher asked with a scoff. “No, thanks. I think I’ll be fine.”

He scurried over to the counter, where Grace handed him his tea before rushing back to the cash register to help the next customer.

He was about to return to his table when he saw a phone number written in neat handwriting. Christopher looked back at the counter to see that Grace was already staring at him. She sent him a wide smile, then quickly turned back to the customer she was helping.

“So?” Thomas asked after he’d returned. “Did you ask for her number?”

He shifted his cup so they could see what she had written. “I didn’t have to.”

Matthew clapped Christopher harshly on the back, and he nearly spilled his drink all over himself.

One last game. A simple game of chess that determined James’ fate. This was his judgement day, a day where he would either be sent to an eternal state of bliss or the fiery pits of hell. One result he wanted, another he certainly deserved.

They sat in front of each other, the chess board the only thing separating them. James tried not to think about the way they’d arranged themselves, James with black pieces and Cordelia with white. James was darkness, and Cordelia was always, always the light. He hated that he hadn’t been able to see it sooner.

“I would like to alter the rules for this game,” said Cordelia, her voice firm and unwavering. “For every piece I take, you’ll answer one question. For each piece you take, I’ll answer one of yours.”

James did, in fact, have many questions. He nodded in agreement as Cordelia’s fingers lifted her knight, signaling the beginning of the game.

His hands shook as he moved his first piece. Cordelia was far better at chess than he was, and he knew she wouldn’t let him win.

When it really came down to it, this wasn’t a game. This was life or death.

She took the first piece, a pawn. She didn’t gloat; she’d only stared at him with the same determination she’d had back when she defended his honor and sacrificed her own.

“First question of the game,” James said with a breathy laugh that she did not return.

“Do you intend to marry Grace once we divorce?”

“No,” James said, picking up his Queen and moving it forward.

The game continued quietly until he managed to take one of her knights. “Matthew told me that he has feelings for you. Do you return them?”

“I don’t,” she said, her eyes not moving from the board. “You’ve just exchanged pieces. Your knight for mine. Why?”

“Is that your question?”

“I’ve not taken the piece yet.”

“Then take it, and I’ll answer.”

She picked up the knight, replacing it with her pawn and holding it up for James to see.

He smiled sadly, looking down at the board in order to avoid her intense gaze. He pushed a pawn forward. “I have many things that I must explain to you, and I’ve also many questions that I’d like to ask you. So I figured that exchanging pieces would let us both get one more answer.”

“Very well,” Cordelia said, moving her next piece forward.

The game continued in an agonizing silence that shook James to his very core. He was no stranger to quiet—he even preferred it over the chaotic cacophony noise sometimes made—but this was his hell. When he died, he was sure that this was what would await him past the underworld’s fiery gates. Her anger was his punishment, and her silence might as well have killed him by now.

“You’ve gotten better since we last played,” he said in an effort to break the silence.

She didn’t look up from the board. “Or you’ve gotten worse.”

He concentrated on the board once again, and realized with a start that he could take her Queen. He plucked the piece from the board, showing it to Cordelia with a forced smile. “No,” he said. “That can’t be it.”

“Are you going to ask a question or not?”

“If you do not hold feelings for Matthew, why did you go to Paris with him?”

“I had to get away,” Cordelia said, her fingers already choosing a piece to push forward.

It only took a few more turns before Cordelia took one of his rooks. “You said that you have no intention of marrying Grace once we divorce. Why not?”

Because I don’t want to divorce you, he wanted to say. Instead, he said: “Because I don’t love her. She used me, put a spell on the damned bracelet she gave me. She—“

“What?”

“I don’t love her, Cordelia.” She could never compare to you. “I never did.” It has always been you. I wish I had seen it sooner.

She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. James pretended not to notice the small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Hope was a feeling James wasn’t used to. But now, it was witchlight illuminating his heart. He could only hope that it wouldn’t be extinguished.

He gave her a smile before turning his attention back to the board. He could end this game in a couple moves if he wanted to. Instead, he moved a pawn forward to a spot where Cordelia could easily take it.

She pulled the pawn from the board, setting it aside. “What do you mean she enchanted your bracelet?”

This was the question he had been dreading. As he told the story, explaining how Grace had kept him in shackles for the majority of his adolescence, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have become of him if she hadn’t.

James had heard his father talk about how his belief that he was cursed held him back in his youth. He couldn’t help but entertain the possibility of that being what happened to him. Where would he be now if he had been allowed to flourish, if he hadn’t been stuck in a cage for years on end?

The game continued on for some time, each taking pieces from each other one by one. Eventually, there were only a few pieces left on the board, and it was clear that neither of them was going to win.

“It’s a stalemate,” said Cordelia, as if she had read James’ mind. “Neither of us can win.”

“Then it’s only fair we both get to ask a question.”

“You go first.”

Against his will, James’ leg began to bounce underneath the table. “Would you give me a chance? I can’t promise that everything will work out between us, but I can sure as hell try. Daisy, do you want to do this for real?”

Cordelia’s lips curled up into the brightest smile he had ever seen. “Yeah,” she whispered, reaching over the table for his hand.

He wasn’t able to contain his grin. “What’s your question?”

“Will you marry me?”

“I already did, love.”

Cordelia huffed a laugh. “The marriage is hardly a marriage until we have the second runes.”

Over the past few days, Grace Cartwright had grown familiar with the constant state of panic she now seemed to live in. Even now, as she sat on the bed of her new room in the institute, as her breathing grew ragged and impossible to control, as warm tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, it could not be said that this was an unfamiliar experience. For better or for worse—probably for worse— it had become her constant companion.

She had grown accustomed to drowning, fighting to keep her head over the waters of misery. She had grown used to wondering what would become of her if she let herself sink to the bottom.

A knock sounded on her door. “Grace? Grace, are you in there?”

Her body stiffened in response to the noise. Words refused to form, and the only thing that left Grace’s lips was a strangled whimper, accompanied by more sobs. Pathetic, a voice in her head told her. Other people have it worse. You caused so many people so much pain, and you’re selfish enough to cry about it?

“I’m coming in,” Cordelia said, bursting through the door only moments after. Grace curled in on herself further, her gaze trained on the floor, trying in vain to hide from the other girl’s worried gaze.

If Grace was expecting anger, it never came. Instead, Cordelia settled on the bed next to her, her eyes wide with something akin to empathy. “It’s okay,” she whispered, putting her arm around Grace’s frame and pulling her into an awkward side hug. “It’s okay.”

Grace wanted to believe her words, she really did, but she could not bring herself to, no matter how hard she tried. Her breathing came in short and erratic bursts, just barely enough to sustain consciousness. Grace was ashamed of being such a mess before someone who surely hurt more than she did, but now she couldn’t help it.

“Don’t you hate me?” She asked through broken sobs. “After everything that I’ve done, all the pain I’ve caused you and James, why don’t you hate me?”

“I do not hate you, Grace, and neither does James.”

“You should.”

“Why would we?” Cordelia asked. “You wouldn’t have done what you did if it weren’t for Tatiana and Belial. You had no more say in it than we did, so it’s wrong of us to blame you for it.”

“But it is because of what I did that you’re in this mess. If I hadn’t—“

“No. It wasn’t your choice. It wasn’t your fault, Grace, so stop punishing yourself for it.”

“But I could have done something to stop it, couldn’t I?”

“You were a child,” Cordelia insisted. “You weren’t in control of the situation. You’re not the one at fault.”

Grace sighed, dragging her hand across her face. “Then why does it feel like I am?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll be here to help you through it. Whatever you need.”

For the first time in Grace’s life, she wouldn’t have to endure her pain alone. Now, she had people she could lean on, people who cared about her more than Tatiana ever did.

“You’re not alone anymore,” said Cordelia, her arms tightening around Grace’s frame. “I promise you that you’re not alone anymore.”

“It's locked,” she said, touching the old wood.

Jesse approached her, unable to keep the smile off his face. She was taller than him now.

She turned to him, catching his expression. “What?” she said with a smile on her own.

“Nothing,” Jesse said. He was in front of her now but didn't climb the stairs.

“How it feels to be tall?” he grinned.

“Not bad, bot bad,” she looked down at him, her hands behind her back. She leaned forward, her eyes moved on his lips. “It's easier to kiss people like this.”

“Only one person, I hope,” Jesse whispered.

Lucie smiled and kissed him.

Jesse still couldn't believe her warmness. For long, long time he was trapped in a chilly world, not quite cold but definitely not warm. Just enough cool to remember the sun can no longer touch his skin.

But Lucie... Lucie was so warm and full of life. She was life.

Her lips were warm and gentle against his own. Her hair was brushing his face. He gently cupped her face, deepening the kiss.

“The night is still young,” she whispered when they parted. They shared one breath, their foreheads pressed against each other.