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“The reason Valentine became that man was their fault… your mother and Maryse’s,” Luke accused, shaking his head and grunting through the pain still radiating through his body.
“I don’t believe you,” Clary muttered, looking around the room as if to avoid the truth she saw evident in Luke’s eyes. She had to believe him eventually, but he understood her struggle. There was no way the woman they loved, who raised Clary and taught her how to be the woman she had grown into, could be responsible for something like that. It had taken Luke a long time to come to terms with and he wouldn’t expect anything more from Clary.
“They betrayed him, Clary. They--” Luke gripped the bright red sheet in his fingers until the knuckles lost their color and spat, “They fell in love.”
“That’s-- impossible,” Clary whispered. Her knees wobbled and she threw her hand out to hold onto the wooden frame of the bed in order to keep upright.
“It’s not impossible, it’s the truth. But it wasn’t just on them. We all betrayed him,” Luke admitted, reaching out to settle his palm on the back of Clary’s hand. Though it was meant to provide Clary comfort, it settled the twisting in Luke’s stomach as he remembered. Clary’s eyes darted over to him like a silent plea for him to explain, so he continued, “Your parents were married, Valentine was my parabatai, and Maryse… She couldn’t stand what her husband was letting Valentine turn into.”
“What happened?” Clary asked as if she knew Luke wasn’t giving her the full story. It was all too much information for her to process, but she had learned a million new things in the last few days and was still standing. He knew it was important that she had everything and the fiery look in her eyes told Luke she could handle anything.
“His rhetoric got more violent and he became more combative with the Clave, so we started to worry. We tried to help him, tried to temper him, but he just kept pulling away. That just drew all of us closer together, Maryse and your mother more than I had thought.”
“We have to go to the Clave, we have to make them listen to reason,” Jocelyn shouted, holding onto Maryse’s shoulders as if they were the only thing keeping her from falling over. Maryse’s hands were delicate on Jocelyn’s waist and when she reached one up to stroke away a fallen tear on Jocelyn’s cheek, Luke had to look away, feeling like he was intruding on an intimate moment.
“We can’t make them listen, Jocelyn, any more than we can make our husbands listen. We’ve tried to fight this battle and we’re losing and I think--” Maryse took a deep breath, holding Jocelyn’s face gently in her palms and resting their foreheads together.
“No,” Jocelyn whispered, her grip tightening on Maryse’s shoulders. Luke could see the struggle in her face and her hands; the way Jocelyn seemed to argue inside herself whether to push Maryse away or hold her closer. “Maryse, we can’t.”
“But we can, my love,” Maryse whispered, stroking her thumbs along Jocelyn’s tear soaked cheeks and smiling down at her brightly. “We don’t have to allow them to use us anymore. We don’t have to be responsible for them. We can take Alec and Clary and cease to be a part of this!” As much as Luke hated to admit it, he wanted Jocelyn to leap at the chance to run away. He was constantly worried for her and he loved her too much to step aside and watch Valentine destroy her. He had hoped, for a while, that Jocelyn might love him, but he saw the way her eyes shone when she gazed up into Maryse’s and that hope simmered in his heart.
“I can help,” Luke said, making his presence known as he stepped out of the shadows. Maryse pulled away quickly, reaching toward the seraph blade on her hip but halting when Luke raised up his empty hands in surrender. “I’m going to try and stop him and you two shouldn’t be here when that happens,” Luke explained, holding onto Jocelyn’s shoulder tightly. Her palm fitted over the back of his hand and squeezed just enough to silently give him her answer.
“I have never been one to run away,” Jocelyn whispered, turning toward Maryse with an apologetic gaze. Maryse nodded slowly, her eyes closing as Jocelyn’s hand stroked a fallen piece of hair behind her ear.
“I don’t know whether to call you brave or stupid,” Maryse muttered. Jocelyn let out a wet giggle and pulled Maryse close, soft smiles on both of their lips.
Luke turned his head away again as they leaned into each other. He heard the light press of lips and the gentle sigh that left Maryse’s as Jocelyn pulled away. A hand on his shoulder told him it was safe to turn around and he was surprised to see the arm belonged to Maryse.
“You’ll take care of her, won’t you?” Maryse asked. Jocelyn’s face drew together in confusion, but before she could say anything, Maryse continued, “You need someone to get the Clave on your side. I can be that someone, but that means heading to Alicante. You know once they have me, they won’t let me out.”
Before Jocelyn could interrupt, Luke held Maryse’s hand in his and promised, “She’ll be my priority.” He knew Maryse wouldn’t expect anything less. They had never gotten along, hadn’t ever had much to talk about or bond over, but they had one important thing in common with Jocelyn beside them.
“She just… left?” Clary asked, sitting next to Luke on the bed, tracing her fingers over the intricate embroidery of the blankets. Luke watched her as he had learned to view Jocelyn. He loved Clary like his own child and he grew to love Jocelyn as family when he realized she would always love Maryse. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, I’ve met Maryse, and she--”
“You’ve met her? Is she back in New York?” Luke asked, jolting upright and ignoring the pain that surged through every inch of his body.
“She came to see her kids and to… meet me,” Clary said. “My mother was in love with her, right?” Clary asked, standing abruptly and so surely that Luke had to follow her.
“Yes…” Luke trailed off, feeling hesitant to confirm with the look on Clary’s face, and as Clary reached for her bag, Luke grabbed for a shirt.
“Then if anyone can help me find the cup, it’s Maryse Lightwood.” Before Luke could argue, she was out of the door and he stumbled to follow.
“Clary, I don’t think--”
“You’ve always told me that my mother and I are too similar for our own good, right?” Luke nodded, unable to contain the soft smile that pulled at the corner of his lips. “If it was me, I would tell the person I love most in the world where I hid the cup because they would be the only one I would trust. Maryse sacrificed her future for my mother and she knew that Maryse was the only one she could trust. She might not know it now, but Maryse holds the answer and I’m going to find it.”