Smoke and Mirrors ▹ Alec Lightwood [1]

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
ALICE ROSEWELL

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

     Adrian learned of Malachi Dieudonne's death the next day.

Everyone old enough to hunt was ordered to patrol the entirety of Idris, scouring for bodies. Many families still had members missing. Some of them had probably been devoured by demons during the first attack, some had simply disappeared. Many had fled, and many were still in hiding, unaware that the fighting had officially come to an end. Adrian didn't blame them. He, Isabelle, Alec, and Jace were all told to search one particular street. Any survivors were immediately sent to the Accords Hall, where a makeshift infirmary was set up that morning. If they recognized the dead, they had to write down the name and send for their families, if they had any. If they couldn't recognize the dead, they had to call for a Silent Brother or Iron Sister.

Luckily, they found more survivors than they did dead bodies. Perhaps that was why they felt it was alright to take Adrian away from it. Everyone had lost someone in the war, or at least almost lost someone, so Adrian wasn't given the day off, wasn't given time to grieve. All they did was tell him that Malachi was found in the Accords Hall with a shard of broken glass in his neck. They thought he fell while fighting someone, but Adrian didn't care how he might have died. He cared more about the fact that he didn't feel grief when he heard the news. He didn't feel sad, and he didn't feel empty. He didn't feel numb or horrified.

Instead, what he felt was an overwhelming sense of relief, like he could finally breathe without fearing that he was somehow breathing wrong.

He wasn't originally going to attend Malachi's funeral. He knew it'd be one of the services with the most attendants, simply because Malachi was the former Consul. He didn't want to deal with the stares or the complete strangers coming up to him to offer their condolences. He didn't want to deal with their pity, because they didn't know what kind of father he was behind closed doors, what kind of man. They just knew that a boy had lost his father. They didn't know the boy was relieved to be free of him, that Malachi had left behind more damage and bruises than he had affection, and Adrian didn't think he'd be able to keep his mouth shut if someone started talking about how tragic Malachi's death was.

His death wasn't tragic. It was a blessing in disguise.

In the end, it was his guilt for feeling relieved over someone's death that made him go last minute. He threw on the first white shirt and pants he saw. He had wanted to go alone, since it was easier to stay hidden that way, but Alec had caught him getting ready. He had taken one look at Adrian's all-white outfit and had started getting ready as well. Adrian had tried to convince him he didn't have to go, but Alec simply said he wasn't going to let Adrian go alone before he had pulled on a white sweater.

Now there they were, at Malachi Dieudonne's funeral, surrounded by people who were giving them both pitying and judgmental looks. By then, everyone in Idris had heard of Adrian kissing Alexander Lightwood in the Accords Hall. Adrian could tell some of them found Alec's attendance to the late Consul's funeral disrespectful, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't have to fear Malachi anymore. What everyone else thought meant absolutely nothing to him. That was what he tried to convince himself, at least. It was easier to pretend.

Once the service was over and Malachi's body was burning, Adrian stayed a tad longer with a frown on his face. Around him, others were getting ready to leave. Alec was one of them, but he stopped when he noticed Adrian's expression. He paused, hand sliding up his arm to settle on his shoulder. He gave Adrian a reassuring squeeze. It helped Adrian center himself, helped him focus. He met Alec's questioning gaze and let out a soft sigh.