Extraits

“‘Come on, Alec,’ she said. 'The truth is that Shadowhunters and Downworlders aren’t meant to be together. You and Bane are a disgrace. But you can’t just be content with the Clave letting you pervert your angelic lineage. No, you have to force it on the rest of us.’

'Really?’ said Kieran, who Kit had nearly forgotten was there. 'You all have to sleep with Magnus Bane? How exciting for you.’”

"Hate like that can tear down the world."

(traduction approximative)

"Une telle haine peut déchirer le monde."

There was no reason to sail down Sexy Thoughts River to the Sea of Perversion when it wasn't going to go anywhere.

(traduction approximative)

Il n'y a aucune raison de naviguer sur la Rivière des Pensées Sexy vers la Mer de la Perversion quand ça ne mènera à rien.

"Like all groups who exist primarily to hate, they believe that they speak for a silent majority"

(traduction approximative)

"Comme tous les groupes qui se nourrissent de haine, ils croient parler pour une majorité silencieuse"

"We fear things because we value them. We fear losing people because we love them. We fear dying because we value being alive. Don't wish you didn't fear anything. All that would mean is that you didn't feel anything."

"You want to live. Just like everyone else does. You don't want to be trapped, is all."

"Jace asked me to marry him"

"Oh!" Emma had already begun to open her arms to hug the other girl when she caught sight of Clary's expression. She froze. "What's wrong?"

"I said no."

"You said no?"

Kieran gave a soft, impatient noise and flopped down on the bed, among the sheets. The blankets were already flung onto the floor. With his black hair tangled against the white linen, his body sprawled out with no regard for human modesty, Kieran looked even more of a wild creature. “Come with me, then,” he said. “Stay with me. I saw the look on your face when you saw the horses of the Hunt. You would do anything to ride again.”

Suddenly furious, Mark leaned down over him. “Not anything,” he said. His voice throbbed with low anger.

Kieran gave a slight hiss. He caught at Mark’s shirt. “There,” he said. “Be angry with me, Mark Blackthorn. Shout at me. Feel something.”

Mark stayed where he was, frozen, just above Kieran. “You think I don’t feel?”

Kieran sat up rather reluctantly. The waves of his hair had lightened to blue; he turned around, and leaned back against Mark, rather as if they were on horseback and Mark was behind.

Kieran shook his head. "I cannot do it," he said.

"Kier -" Mark began angrily, but Kieran had his head down, like a beaten dog. His hair fell, sweat-tangled, into his face, and his shirt and the waist of his breeches were soaked in blood. "You're bleeding again. I thought you said you were healing?"

"I thought I was," Kieran said softly. "Mark, leave me here -"

A hand touched Mark's shoulder. Cristina. She had put her knife away. She looked at him, levelly. "I'll help you get him over the wall."