Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices #2)(208)

She'd gritted her teeth in sympathetic pain as he started to peel away his barklike armor. Her father had always kept extra bandages in the bathroom; when she returned from her trip there, gauze in hand, she found Gwyn shirtless and grumpy-looking on her rumpled blanket, his brown hair almost the same color as her wooden walls. His skin was several shades paler, smooth and taut over bones that were just a shade alien.

"I do not need to be ministered to," he said. "I have always bandaged my own wounds."

Diana didn't answer, just set about making a field dressing. Sitting behind him as she worked, she realized it was the closest she'd ever been to him. She'd thought his skin would feel like bark, like his armor, but it didn't: It felt like leather, the very softest kind that was used to make scabbards for delicate blades.

"We all have wounds that are sometimes better cared for by someone else," she said, setting the box of bandages aside.

"And what of your wounds?" he said.

"I wasn't injured." She got to her feet, ostensibly to prove to him that she was fine, walking and breathing. Part of it was also to put some distance between them. Her heart was skipping beats in a way she didn't trust.

"You know that is not what I meant," he said. "I see how you care for those children. Why do you not just offer to head the Los Angeles Institute? You would make a better leader than Arthur Blackthorn ever did."

Diana swallowed, though her mouth was dry. "Does it matter?"

"It matters in that I wish to know you," he said. "I would kiss you, but you draw away from me; I would know your heart, but you hide it in shadow. Is it that you do not like or want me? Because in that case I will not trouble you."

There was no intention to cause guilt in his voice, only a plain statement of fact.

If he had made a more emotional plea, perhaps she would not have responded. As it was, she found herself crossing the room, picking up a book from the shelf by the bed. "If you think there's something I'm hiding, then I suppose you're right," she said. "But I doubt it's what you think." She raised her chin, thinking of her namesake, goddess and warrior, who had nothing to apologize for. "It's nothing I did wrong. I'm not ashamed; I've no reason to be. But the Clave-" She sighed. "Here. Take this."

Gwyn took the book from her, solemn-faced. "This is a book of law," he said.

She nodded. "The laws of investiture. It details the ceremonies by which Shadowhunters take on new positions: how one is sworn in as Consul, or Inquisitor, or the head of an Institute." She leaned over him, opening the book to a well-examined page. "Here. When you're sworn in as the head of an Institute, you must hold the Mortal Sword and answer the Inquisitor's questions. The questions are law. They never change."

Gwyn nodded. "Which of the questions is it," he said, "that you do not want to answer?"

"Pretend you are the Inquisitor," Diana said, as if he hadn't spoken. "Ask the questions, and I will answer as if I'm holding the Sword, entirely truthfully."



       
         
       
        

Gwyn nodded. His eyes were dark with curiosity and something else as he began to read aloud. "Are you a Shadowhunter?"

"Yes," said Diana.

"Were you born a Shadowhunter, or did you Ascend?"

"I was born a Shadowhunter."

"What is your family name?"

"Wrayburn."

"And what was the name you were given at birth?" asked Gwyn.

"David," said Diana. "David Laurence Wrayburn."

Gwyn looked puzzled. "I do not understand."

"I am a woman," said Diana. "I always have been. I always knew I was a girl, whatever the Silent Brothers told my parents, whatever the contradiction of my body. My sister, Aria, knew too. She said she'd known it from the moment I could talk. But my parents-" She broke off. "They weren't unkind, but they didn't know the options. They told me I should live as myself at home, but in public, be David. Be the boy I knew I wasn't. Stay under the radar of the Clave.

"I knew that would be living a lie. Still, it was a secret the four of us kept. Yet with every year my crushing despair grew. I withdrew from interaction with other Shadowhunters our age. At every moment, waking and sleeping, I felt anxious and uncomfortable. And I feared I would never be happy. Then I turned eighteen. My sister was nineteen. We went to Thailand together to study at the Bangkok Institute. I met Catarina Loss there."

"Catarina Loss," said Gwyn. "She knows. That you are-that you were-" He frowned. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to say it. That you were named David by your parents?"