Read Pale Kings and Princes for Free Online

girlfriend.
    “I’ll, ah, just give the two of you some space to look around,” the shopkeeper said, backing quickly away from the awkward. He disappeared into the back.
    “I’m sorry,” Simon said. “Let’s stay, please. Of course I want your help picking something out.”
    She sighed. “No, I’m sorry. Choosing your first weapon is a really personal thing. I get it. Take your time, look around. I’ll shut up.”
    “I don’t want you to shut up,” he said.
    But she shook her head and zipped her lips shut. Then raised three fingers in the air—Scout’s honor. Which didn’t seem like a Shadowhunter thing, and Simon wondered who had taught her to do that.
    He wondered if it had been him.
    Sometimes he hated before-Simon and all the things he’d shared with Isabelle, things today-Simon could never understand. It was weird and headache inducing, competing with yourself.
    They browsed the store, taking in the options: polearms, athames, seraph blades, elaborately carved crossbows, chakhrams , throwing knives, a full display case of golden whips, over which Isabelle nearly began to drool.
    The silence was oppressive. Simon had never had a good date—at least not that he could recall—but he was pretty sure they tended to involve some talking.
    “Poor Helen,” he said, testing the heft and balance of a medieval-looking broadsword. At least this was one subject they were sure to agree on.
    “I hate what they’re doing to her,” Isabelle said. She was stroking a deadly-looking silver kindjal as if it were a puppy. “How was it, in class? Was it as bad as I imagine?”
    “Worse,” Simon admitted. “The look on her face, when she was telling the story of her parents . . .”
    Isabelle’s grip tightened around the kindjal . “Why can’t they see how hideous it is to treat her like this? She’s not a faerie. ”
    “Well, that’s not really the point, is it?”
    Isabelle laid the kindjal down carefully in its velvet case. “What do you mean?”
    “Whether or not she’s a faerie. It’s beside the point.”
    She fixed Simon with a fiery gaze. “Helen Blackthorn is a Shadowhunter ,” she spit out. “Mark Blackthorn is a Shadowhunter . If we can’t agree on that, we have a problem.”
    “Of course we agree on that.” It made him love her all the more, seeing how angry she got on behalf of her friends. Why couldn’t he just say that to her? Why was everything so hard? “They’re as much Shadowhunters as you are. I just mean that even if they weren’t, if we were talking about some actual faerie, it still wouldn’t be right to treat her like she’s the enemy, because of what she was, right?”
    “Well . . .”
    Simon was astonished. “What do you mean, ‘well . . .’?”
    “I mean that maybe any faerie is potentially an enemy, Simon. Look what they did to us. Look how much misery they caused.”
    “They didn’t all cause that misery—but they’re all paying for it.”
    Isabelle sighed. “Look, I don’t like the Cold Peace any more than you do. And you’re right, not all faeries are the enemy. Obviously. Not all of them betrayed us, and it’s not fair that they should all be punished for that. You think I don’t know that?”
    “Good,” Simon said.
    “But—”
    “I really don’t see how there can be a ‘but,’” Simon cut in.
    “ But it’s not as simple as you’re trying to make it. The Seelie Queen did betray us. A legion of faeries did join Sebastian in the Dark War. A lot of good Shadowhunters got killed. You’ve got to see why that would leave people angry. And afraid.”
    Stop talking, Simon told himself. His mother had once told him you should never discuss religion or politics on a date. He was never quite sure which one of those categories Clave policies fell into, but either way, this was like trying to defend J. J. Abrams to a hard-core Trekkie: hopeless.
    But inexplicably, and despite the sincere wishes of his brain, Simon’s mouth kept moving. “I