I’ll tell them, she said. I’ll tell them it was my fault.He looked at her, gold eyes incredulous. You can’t lie to them.I’m not. I brought you back, she said. You were dead, and I brought you back. I upset the balance, not you. I opened the door for Lilith and her stupid ritual. I could have asked for anything, and I asked for you. She tightened her grip on his shirt, her fingers white with cold and pressure. And I would do it again. I love you, Jace Wayland—Herondale—Lightwood—whatever you want to call yourself. I don’t care. I love you and I wil always love you, and pretending it could be any other way is just a waste of time.
― Cassandra Clare,
City of Fallen Angels
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