Read Pale Kings and Princes for Free Online Page B

slightly, she melted. “Kidding. Mostly.”
    “Relieved,” he said. “Mostly.”
    Isabelle sighed. “I’m sorry this was such a disaster.”
    “It’s not all your fault.”
    “Well, obviously it’s not all my fault,” she said. “Not even mostly my fault.”
    “Uh . . . I thought we’d moved into the apologies portion of the day.”
    “Right. Sorry.”
    He grinned. “See, now you’re talking.”
    “So, what now? Back to the Academy?”
    “Are you kidding?” Simon stood up and extended a hand to her. Miracle of miracles, she took it. “We’re not giving up until we get this right. But we’re not going to get there pretending to be Jace and Clary. That’s our whole problem, isn’t it? Trying to be people we’re not? I can’t be some kind of cool, hipster nightclub hopper.”
    “I don’t think there’s any such thing as a ‘nightclub hopper,’” Isabelle said wryly.
    “This proves my point. And you’re never going to be some kind of gamer who wants to stay up all night debating Naruto plot points and battling D&D orcs.”
    “Now you’re just making up words.”
    “And neither of us is ever going to be Jace and Clary—”
    “Thank God,” they said, in sync, then exchanged a grin.
    “So what are you suggesting?” Izzy asked.
    “Something new,” Simon said, mind racing to come up with an actual concrete, useful idea. He knew he was onto something, he just wasn’t sure what. “Not your world, not my world. A new world, for just the two of us.”
    “Please tell me you don’t want us to Portal to some other dimension. Because that didn’t work out so well the last time.”
    Simon grinned, an idea dawning. “Maybe we can find a spot slightly closer to home. . . .”
    *   *   *
    As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the clouds overhead blushed cotton-candy pink. Their reflections gleamed on the crystalline waters of Lake Lyn. The horses whinnied, the birds chirped, and Simon and Isabelle crunched their peanut brittle and popcorn. This, Simon thought, was the sound of happiness.
    “You still haven’t told me how you found this place,” Isabelle said. “It’s perfect.”
    Simon didn’t want to admit that it was Jon Cartwright who’d told him about the isolated inlet on the edge of Lake Lyn, its hanging willows and rainbow of wildflowers making it the perfect spot for a romantic picnic. (Even when the picnic consisted of peanut brittle, popcorn, and the handful of other random teeth-decaying, artery-clogging snacks they’d grabbed on their way out of Alicante.) Simon, who had long ago grown tired of hearing about Jon’s romantic exploits, had done his best to tune the jerk out. But apparently a few details had lodged in his subconscious. Enough, at least, to find the place.
    Jon Cartwright was a blowhard and a buffoon—Simon would maintain this to his dying day.
    But it turned out the guy had good taste in romantic date spots.
    “Just stumbled on it,” Simon mumbled. “Good luck, I guess.”
    Isabelle gazed out at the impossibly smooth water. “This place reminds me of Luke’s farm,” she said softly.
    “Me too,” he said. In that other life, the one he barely remembered, he and Clary had spent many long, happy days at Luke’s summer house upstate, splashing in the lake, lying in the grass, naming the clouds.
    Isabelle turned to him. Simon’s jacket was spread out between them as an improvised picnic blanket. It was a small jacket—not very much distance for him to cross, if he wanted to reach her.
    He’d never wanted anything more.
    “I think about it a lot,” Izzy said. “The farm, the lake.”
    “Why?”
    Her voice softened. “Because that was where I almost lost you—where I was sure I would lose you. But I got you back.”
    Simon didn’t know what to say.
    “It doesn’t even matter,” she said, harder now. “Not like you even know what I’m talking about.”
    “I know what happened there.” Namely, Simon had summoned the Angel