The Evil We Love (Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy Book 5) by Cassandra Clare, Robin Wasserman Read Free Book Online

rude,” Michael said. “Will you tell me? What it was like?”
    Strange, that it could be that simple. Strange, that Robert could be burning to tell someone without even realizing it. That all he needed was someone to ask. The floodgates opened. Robert talked and talked, and when he trailed off, afraid he was going too far, Michael would jump in with another question.
    “Why do you think it happened to you ?” Michael asked. “Do you think it was genetic? Or, like, some part of you just isn’t meant to be a Shadowhunter?”
    It was, of course, Robert’s greatest, most secret fear—but to hear it tossed off so casually like this defused it of all its power.
    “Maybe?” Robert said, and instead of shunning him, Michael’s eyes lit up with a scientist’s curiosity.
    He grinned. “We should find out.”
    They made it their mission: They probed libraries, pored over ancient texts, asked questions that no adult wanted to hear. There was very little written record of Shadowhunters who’d experienced what Robert had—this kind of thing was meant to be a shameful family secret, never spoken of again. Not that Michael cared how many feathers he ruffled or which traditions he overturned. He wasn’t particularly brave, but he seemed to have no fear.
    Their mission failed. There was no rational explanation for why Robert had reacted so strongly to the Mark, but by the end of that year, it didn’t matter. Michael had turned a nightmare into a puzzle—and had turned himself into Robert’s best friend.
    They performed the parabatai ritual before leaving for the Academy, swearing the oath without hesitation. By then they were fifteen years old, a physically unlikely pairing: Robert had finally hit his growth spurt, and loomed over his peers, his muscles thick, his shadow of a beard growing in thicker every day. Michael was slim and wiry, his unruly curls and dreamy expression making him look younger than his age.
    “Entreat me not to leave thee,
    Or return from following after thee—
    For whither thou goest, I will go,
    And where thou lodgest, I will lodge.
    Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.
    Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.
    The Angel do so to me, and more also,
    If aught but death part thee and me.”
    Robert recited the words, but they were unnecessary. Their bond had been cemented the day he turned fourteen, when he finally got up the nerve to Mark himself again. Michael was the only one he told, and as he held the stele over his skin, it was Michael’s steady gaze that gave him the courage to bear down.
    Unthinkable that they had only one last year together before they’d be expected to part. Their parabatai bond would remain after the Academy, of course. They’d always be best friends; they’d always charge into battle side by side. But it wouldn’t be the same. They’d each marry, move into houses of their own, refocus their attention and their love. They would always have a claim on each other’s souls. But after next year, they would no longer be the most important person in each other’s lives. This, Robert knew, was simply how life worked. This was growing up. He just couldn’t imagine it, and he didn’t want to.
    As if listening in on Robert’s thoughts, Michael echoed the question he’d dodged earlier. “What really is going on with you and Maryse?” he asked. “Do you think it’s for real? Like, for good?”
    There was no need to put on a show for Michael. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t even know what that would feel like. She’s perfect for me. I love spending time with her, I love . . . you know , with her. But does that mean I love her? It should, but . . .”
    “Something’s missing?”
    “Not between us, though,” Robert said. “It’s like there’s something missing in me. I see how Stephen looks at Amatis, how Valentine looks at Jocelyn—”
    “How Lucian looks at Jocelyn,” Michael added with a wry grin.