Pale Kings and Princes Read Online Free PDF Page B

In motion, things felt easy between them—natural. Simon could almost forget that this was one of the most important moments of his life and anything he said or did could screw it up forever. Now, back at ground level, the weight settled back on his shoulders. It was hard to think of anything clever to say with his brain echoing the same four words over and over again.
    Don’t. Screw. This. Up.
    “They have everything here,” Izzy continued, presumably trying to fill the dull silence Simon’s nerves left in their wake. “Daggers, axes, throwing stars—oh, and bows, of course. All kinds of bows. It’s awesome.”
    “Yeah,” Simon said weakly. “Awesome.”
    He had, in his year at the Academy, learned to fight almost as well as any beginning Shadowhunter, and had a proficiency with every weapon she’d named. But he’d discovered that knowing how to use a weapon was very different from wanting to. In his pre-Shadowhunter life, Simon had delivered many passionate rants on the subject of gun control, and would have loved nothing more than for every weapon in the city to be dumped into the East River. Not that a gun was the same as a sword, and not that he didn’t love the feel of unleashing an arrow from his bow and watching it fly swiftly and surely into the heart of his target. But the way Isabelle loved her whip, the way Clary talked about her sword, like it was a member of the family . . . the Shadowhunter passion for deadly weapons still took some getting used to.
    Diana’s Arrow, a weapons shop on Flintlock Street at the heart of Alicante, was full of more deadly objects than Simon had ever seen in one place—and that included the Academy weapons room, which could have supplied an army. But while the Academy arsenal was more like a storage closet, swords and daggers and arrows piled in haphazard stacks and crowded onto dangerously rickety shelves, Diana’s Arrow reminded Simon of a fancy jewelry store. The weapons were on proud display, shining blades fanned across velvet cases, the better to show off their metallic gleam.
    “So, what kind of thing are you looking for?” The guy behind the counter had a spiky Mohawk and a faded Arcade Fire T-shirt and looked more suited to a comic book counter than this one. Simon assumed this probably wasn’t Diana.
    “How about a bow?” Izzy said. “Something really spectacular. Fit for a champion.”
    “Maybe not that spectacular,” Simon said quickly. “Maybe something a little more . . . unobtrusive.”
    “People often underestimate the importance of good battle style,” Isabelle said. “You want to intimidate the enemy before you even make a move.”
    “You don’t think my intimidating wardrobe will do the job there?” Simon gestured at his own T-shirt, which featured an anime cat spewing green puke.
    Isabelle gave him what sounded like a pity laugh, then turned back to not-Diana. “What have you got in daggers?” she asked. “Anything gold plated?”
    “I’m not really a gold-plated kind of guy,” Simon said. “Or, uh, a dagger kind of guy.”
    “We have some nice swords,” the guy said.
    “You do look hot with a sword,” Isabelle said. “As I recall.”
    “Maybe?” Simon tried to sound encouraging, but she must have heard the skepticism in his voice.
    She turned on him. “It’s like you don’t even want a weapon.”
    “Well . . .”
    “So what are we doing here?” Isabelle snapped.
    “You suggested it?”
    Isabelle looked like she wanted to stomp her foot—or stomp his face. “Excuse me for trying to help you behave like a respectable Shadowhunter. Forget it. We can go.”
    “No!” he said quickly. “That’s not what I meant.”
    With Isabelle, it was never what he meant. Simon had always considered himself a man of words, as opposed to a man of deeds. Or of swords, for that matter. His mother liked to say he could talk her into almost anything. All he could do with Isabelle, it seemed, was talk himself out of a