“Kiss me,” Alec said.
Magnus put his hand to the side of Alec’s face and gently, almost absently, ran his thumb along Alec’s cheekbone. When he bent to kiss him, he smelled like sandalwood. Alec clutched the sleeve of Magnus’s jacket, and the witchlight, held between their bodies, flared up in colors of rose and blue and green.
It was a slow kiss, and a sad one. When Magnus drew away, Alec found that somehow he was holding the witchlight alone; Magnus’s hand was gone. The light was a soft white.
Softly, Magnus said, “Aku cinta kamu.”
“What does that mean?”
Magnus disentangled himself from Alec’s grip. “It means I love you. Not that that changes anything.”
“But if you love me—”
“Of course I do. More than I thought I would. But we’re still done,” Magnus said. “It doesn’t change what you did.”