Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices #2)(210)

       
         
       
        

"Then news came of the Mortal War. And I realized I was still a Shadowhunter. I could not let Idris suffer peril without a fight. I returned to Alicante. I told the Council that I was the daughter of Aaron and Lissa Wrayburn. Because that was the truth. They knew there had been a brother and a sister and the brother had died: I gave my name as Diana. In the chaos of war, no one questioned me.

I rose up as Diana in battle. I fought as myself, with a sword in my hand and angel fire in my veins. And I knew I could never go back to being a mundane. Among my mundane friends I had to conceal the existence of Shadowhunters. Among the Shadowhunters I had to hide that I had once used mundane medicine. I knew either way I would have to hide a part of myself. I chose to be a Shadowhunter."

"Who else has known all this? Besides Catarina?"

"Malcolm knew. There is a medicine I must take, to maintain the balance of my body's hormones-I usually get it from Catarina, but there was a time she couldn't do it, and had Malcolm make it. After that, he knew. He never directly held it over my head, but I was always aware of his knowledge. That he could hurt me."

"That he could hurt you," Gwyn murmured. His face was a mask. Diana could hear her heart beating in her ears. It was as if she had come to Gwyn with her heart in her hands, raw and bleeding, and now she waited for him to produce the knives.

"All my life I've tried to find the place to be myself and I'm still looking for it," said Diana. "Because of that, I have hidden things from people I loved. And I have hidden this from you. But I have never lied about the truth of myself."

What Gwyn did next surprised Diana. He rose from the bed, took a step forward, and went down on his knees in front of her. He did it gracefully, the way a squire might kneel to a knight or a knight to his lady. There was something ancient in the essence of the gesture, something that went back to the heart and core of the folk of Faerie.

"It is as I knew," he said. "When I saw you upon the stairs of the Institute, and I saw the fire in your eyes, I knew you were the bravest woman ever to set foot on this earth. I regret only that such a fearless soul was ever hurt by the ignorance and fear of others."

"Gwyn . . ."

"May I hold you?" he asked.

She nodded. She couldn't speak. She knelt down opposite the leader of the Wild Hunt and let him take her into his broad arms, let him stroke her hair and murmur her name in his voice that still sounded like the rumble of thunder-but now it was thunder heard from inside a warm, closed house, where everyone was safe inside.

* * *

Tavvy was the first one to sense Emma and Julian's return when they Portaled back into the Institute library with Magnus. He had been sitting on the floor, systematically dismantling some old toys with the assistance of Max. The moment Julian felt the floor solid under his feet, Tavvy bounded upright and careened toward him, crashing into him like a train that had gone off its tracks. 

"Jules!" he exclaimed, and Julian swung him up into his arms and crushed him in a hug as Tavvy clung to him and babbled about what he'd seen and eaten and done in the past few days, and Jules ruffled his brother's hair and felt a tension he hadn't even known he was carrying go out of him.

Cristina had been sitting with Rafe, talking to him quietly in Spanish. Mark was at a library table with Alec, and-to Julian's surprise-Kieran, a mass of books open in front of them.

Cristina jumped to her feet and ran to hug Emma. Livvy came barreling into the room, Ty following more quietly after, and Julian lowered Tavvy to the ground-where he remained by Julian's side, gripping his leg-while he greeted the rest of his family in a blur of hugs and exclamations.

Emma was hugging the twins, a sight that sent a dart of familiar pain through Julian's rib cage. The dread of separation, of pulling apart what belonged together: the dream of his family, Emma as his partner, the children their responsibility.

A hand touched his shoulder, jolting him out of imagination. It was Mark, who looked at him with uneasiness. "Jules?"

Of course. Mark didn't realize Julian knew the truth about him and Emma. He looked worried, hopeful, like a puppy who had come begging for scraps but half-expected to be slapped away from the table.

Was I that bad? Julian wondered, guilt spearing through him. Mark hadn't even known, hadn't imagined Julian loving Emma. Had been horrified when he found out. Mark and Emma loved each other, but not romantically, which was what Julian would have wanted. His heart swelled with tenderness toward both of them for everything they had given up to protect him, for being willing to let him hate them if that was what it took.