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Simon nodded. He thought of his remembrance of Jordan, thought of how it hurt to even look at Isabelle and Clary. Without memory, they were lost. And nobody wanted someone they loved to be lost.
“We are all what our pasts have made us,” Catarina said. “The accumulation of thousands of daily choices. We can change ourselves, but never erase what we’ve been.”
Jon, Julie, and the others in the elite course, who had been devastated to miss Falling Out of Trees with Jace Herondale 101, all stared over as if ready to leap up and save Jace from the bad company he’d fallen into, carry him away in a litter made of chocolate and roses, and bear his children.
Simon’s love life was complicated, but there was a pang, just for a moment, for this woman talking graphic novels with him. Ah, well. Tessa Gray, foxy nerd, was probably dating someone already.
A mundane lady had wandered up to them at Hatchards bookshop in London. Hatchards was the nicest bookshop in the city, James thought, with its dark wood and glass front, which made the whole shop look solemn and special, and its secret nooks and hidey-holes inside where one could curl up with a book and be quite quiet. James’s family often went to Hatchards all together, but when James and his father went alone ladies quite often found a reason to wander over to them and strike up a conversation.
There were going to be a lot of people. There was going to be a lot of talking. James wondered why the wheels did not fall right off Uncle Gabriel’s carriage. He wondered why the world was so cruel.
“I’m not aloof,” said James. “I don’t know where you got that idea.” “All the aloofness, I think,” Matthew speculated.
As long as Simon didn’t think about the past, the past couldn’t hurt him. But, increasingly, he couldn’t help himself. There was too much pleasure in the pain.
“It’s hard to believe how much light you can find in the darkness, when you have someone who loves you.”
“Seriously, George, tell me the truth,” said Simon. “Am I beautiful?”
