Jace would rather be anywhere else than here - stuck in some alternate dimension with Clary and Simon frigging Lewis. But, unfortunately, he doesn't have a choice. Also, Jace is not okay.

Falling for Magnus Bane is a surprisingly easy thing to do.

Clary has never been any good at putting things back together. When they were in middle school and she accidentally knocked over Simon’s Lego Millennium Falcon, he’d already known to say it was fine repeatedly and usher her out the door instead of accepting her offer to help him rebuild it; if he’d let her try, the wings would have ended up upside down and there suddenly wouldn't have been space for the engine. Her heart is in the right place, usually, but it doesn't often translate to her hands. So when he hears through the shadow world gossip mill that Alec's parabatai rune disappeared briefly, it doesn't take more than one look at Jace’s face to know that she’s been fucking around with the threads of fate again. And, well. She's never been that great at sewing, either.

To keep the peace between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders, a treaty designates an intermarriage between the two groups every seven years. Alec isn't exactly happy to be chosen, but then he finds out that his intended is nothing like what anyone expected.

They say that prostitution is the world’s oldest profession, and it’s just as true for the Downworld as the mundane one. But this is the first time Magnus has ever heard of a nephilim hustling his crowd.