“You must be Alec Lightwood’s son,” Max said, cocking his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eye as he sized up the boy standing before him. “Boy, oh boy, have I heard things about you.”
“Can’t say the same for you,” the boy, Rafael, replied coolly. “You see, Shadowhunters don’t sit around gossiping all day.”
Max let out an inelegant snort. Bapak always said that no one gossiped more than the Children of Raziel. “Right, because you’re all too busy hunting downworlders for a living.”
"We don't do that," Rafael glares at him.
“Really?” Max shot back, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at the sharp sword in the boy's hand. “Then what are you doing in the Brocelind with that?”
“It’s—It’s for my protection,” Rafael said lamely. What an idiot.
“Protection?” Max repeated with a scoff. “From whom? Surely you’re not afraid of the squirrels.”
Rafael scowled, and then pointed at Max’s glowing hands. “There’s no need for that either.”
Max’s grin widened, and for a moment, he let the magic intensify, his hands blazing brighter. Bapak always said to keep your power visible—never let anyone forget who you are.
“You sure about that?” Max mused. “It’s not like you’ve been subtle, either.”
Just then, something sharp jabbed at his back—something unmistakably Shadowhunter.
The voice was calm, but there was a force behind it. Max’s heart skipped a beat, but he turned slowly, already sizing up the newcomer. The arrow grazed the edge of his hoodie, the sharp tip just barely missing him.
He faced the second boy, who was gripping a bow awkwardly. His pale face was sweating, his hands trembling slightly. Max could take him out with a snap of his fingers.
“Let him go,” the blonde boy repeated, more forcefully, the bow almost slipping from his grip this time.
Max cocked his head again, grinning in amusement. “You need help with that, sweetheart?"
“David,” Rafael muttered from behind Max. “Shoot him.”
David’s confused whisper almost made him laugh. “Shoot him?”
Rafael’s whisper grew more insistent. “Shoot him!”
Max rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Are all Shadowhunters so bad at whispering?”
“Shoot him!” Rafael snapped, louder this time.
David’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”
“If you don’t, he’s going to kill us both,” Rafael groaned.
“He’s right, you know,” Max said casually, casting a sly smile at the blonde.
David blinked at him, clearly taken aback by the casual admission. “Really?”
Max nodded sagely. “Oh yeah. Definitely.”
David seemed to frown at that, uncertain whether Max was joking or serious. “Well, that’s not very nice.”
Max’s lips quirked into a smirk, and he leaned back slightly, eyes shifting between the two Shadowhunters. “I’m sorry, are you guys new to this?”
"You can't kill us both," Rafael told him, as if he highly doubted that Max could take two shadowhunters at once. What a dick.
“I guess I could let one of you live,” Max mused thoughtfully. “I only need one of you to deliver the message to Alec Lightwood.”
“Kill me!” Both Rafael and David said in unison, almost as if it had been rehearsed.
Max blinked, genuinely surprised. He frowned at the pair of them.
This wasn’t what he expected at all. He had been prepared for a fight, for them to draw their weapons, to be dangerous, bloodthirsty. But this? This wasn’t how Shadowhunters were supposed to act.
Also, they were definitely supposed to be ugly.
He glanced over at David, the blonde boy, whose baby blue eyes were wide and tensed. Max’s lips twitched.
No, they weren’t ugly—not at all.
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