Page 4 of Gifted Destiny

“Doesn’t Addington have a mage wife?” Confusion rings in Zosia’s words, and I don’t blame her.

“Yes, he does,” Garrett replies with a touch of irritation, but it’s not directed toward the sphinx. “The elites are a bunch of hypocrites. Addington’s power allows him to get away with it while simultaneously slandering anyone under him. The magicless and supernatural communities both have a hierarchy with a clear one percent at the top. Also, Addington’s first wife was a shifter. Second marriages are scrutinized less, especially if the spouse dies. I’ve heard it referred to as mourner’s compensation.”

“Garrett is correct, and it’s more accepted now. Because of my impure birth and my maternal grandfather’s influence, many argued my enrollment and eventual employment at Apocrypha. My parents had their own money and connections, however. They got me in, but I was never accepted.”

Is our guest that connection? He’s been quiet as he listens, allowing the conversation to flow around him.

“Because of the horrible memories from my collegiate years, I wasn’t eager to return. Tremayne convinced me, and I found it enjoyable. As you might have noticed today, Apocrypha isn’t the exemplary institution it used to be. It’s a daycare for entitled heirs who seek to build connections and power among their peers. Many of my students weren’t officially enrolled here, but the Academy offered legitimacy to my claims and enabled me to take on more students.”

“I wanted to attend the school for power,” Garrett admits with a grunt. “I thought it was the best way to unseat my father because power is the only thing he understands.” His voice is resentful and angry, and his confession doesn’t surprise us. I am not typically vindictive, but I share his feelings regarding this situation. “And even though Bren’s mother is a mage, Addington was furious that Bren wasn’t born a shifter. He thought his genetics would overpower his wife’s weaker contribution.”

“But it probably wasn’t due to either,” Zosia says in a resigned tone. It’s only right that she should take the lead when telling our guests anything that might be used against us. “Bren was born a mage because of Addington’s manipulation and experiments.”

“Experiments?” Dread coats Ansel’s question while a shroud of sad resignation falls over Tremayne’s energy. If he’s known about this for years and done nothing, it would mean he’s complicit.

“Yes, but I spoke out of turn. Before we explain what we’ve learned, we need to finish the first topic.” Her tone is firm with newly discovered authority as she faces potentially devastating revelations.

Pride fills me, straightening my posture, and my hand on her shoulder shifts from comforting to supportive. She doesn’t need my assistance to stand, figuratively speaking. She needs me to stand beside her.

Chapter 3

Zosia

Ansel nods with understanding. Focusing on the present topic requires all of my best intentions because my mind is still consumed with Bren’s predicament. Before we seek help, however, I need signs that we can trust both men. Just how much will Ansel tell me? Did Tremayne know?

The two men across from me present my only connections to my family besides the library. Sage has offered all she can by showing me pictures. The goblins don’t speak of the former librarians. I’m uncertain whether they follow orders or if they are designed to focus only on the current librarian.

Of course, my brain whirls with a million questions while I savor the sound of my mother’s name – Karasi. It’s as uncommon as my name, and its African etymology means wisdom and life. Are all sphinxes given names that imply insight, knowledge, or intelligence?

Ansel’s apologetic tone rouses me from my thoughts. “I didn’t intend to withhold information from you, Zosia, but I didn’t want to offer false hope either. As you’ve already assumed, the most important detail I’ve withheld is that I knew your mother more intimately than I led you to believe.”

The library seems to hold its nonexistent breath … or maybe it’s just me. I lean forward, my grip tightening on each hand I hold. My guardians listen intently as well. Bren remains in his seat, but he can’t sit still. He fidgets and looks away while his brother impersonates a stone statue on my other side.

“I was much older than your mother when Tremayne asked me to return to Apocrypha. Although the academy was different when I was a student, it was still elite and snobbish. Tremayne helped me through that ordeal, and I owed him.” A look that suggests familial love and respect passes between the two older men. The old mage enjoys championing underdogs. If his reasoning for this is altruistic, I like him even more.

“I’d briefly met your grandmother while I was enrolled. At the time, Atanea’s pregnancy was still a distant idea. All of her guardians were present, and she exemplified the stern librarian. She didn’t speak casually with the students, but she seemed happy. Everything had changed upon my return. The library was rarely open because she was sick with heartache, rumors were impossible to separate from fact, and sadness echoed through the shelves.”

My mind paints an image from his words that makes my heart ache. I am sad for my mother and grandmother, but I’m also afraid history might repeat itself. What happened with her guardian? Can the same happen to me? Being fated mates doesn’t guarantee ahappily ever after; nothing worth having is easy.

Another part of my brain notes my grandmother’s name. Atanea. I believe it’s a rare spelling of the name Athena – the Greek goddess of wisdom and handicraft. It suits the image of the formidable woman Ansel creates with his words.

“Karasi was the real reason Tremayne contacted me, although he couldn’t reveal this until we were face to face. Your grandmother had struggled to conceive and carry a child toterm, and she was nearing the point of being unable when Karasi was born.”

I pity her and all the sphinxes that came before me. Being the sole individual responsible for continuing an entire species is daunting and slightly unfair. Some might argue that it’s the price for the magic and power of the library, but the pressure is immense.

“Unfortunately, catastrophe struck before Karasi’s second birthday. One of her fathers disappeared. The most prevalent rumor was that he left without a word. The betrayal turned Atanea into a shell of her former self. While she barely managed to uphold her responsibilities and duties to the library, she struggled to nurture her growing daughter. The remaining guardians helped as much as possible, but Karasi craved her mother’s care. As she got older, she started rebelling to capture Atanea’s attention.” Ansel’s eyes glaze over as memories overcome him.

I feel drawn into the past as well, although my stubborn brain insists this is not just my family’s history but a cautionary tale. My guardians seem similarly hypnotized, although Bren and Garrett take turns reaching for food. I don’t know if they are truly hungry or if it’s akin to eating popcorn when watching an engrossing movie, but I can’t stomach anything right now. I need to hear the entire story. The library keeps my coffee hot, however, and I’ve traded the men’s hands for the comfort of the warm ceramic mug. Avery’s unwavering presence behind me somehow keeps me upright.

Kodi can’t help but be distracted. At times, like now, he’s more erratic than Bren usually is. His constant bouncing back and forth is distracting. He’s annoyed that Ansel might be my father because the shifter abandoned me. I convinced him to listen to the shifter’s explanation, however, and I’m glad I did. Ansel has a penchant for storytelling, and I wonder if it drewmy mother to him. She and my grandmother might have been at odds, but they were still sphinxes. Stories are in our blood.

“Karasi was a spitfire and naturally obstinate, but she was also kept hidden. Not many supernaturals knew that Atanea had successfully borne a babe, even though it’s common for long-lived supernaturals to wait until their later years. To hide her pregnancy, Atanea closed the library for a year and a half. She knew that a few elite supernaturals coveted the library’s power and she didn’t want to appear vulnerable.

“The library reopened a few months after Karasi’s birth, and Agustin disappeared about a year later. Atanea was convinced his absence was a result of foul play. As Karasi grew, however, things changed. Atanea started to believe that her daughter’s inability to shift was proof of her mate’s betrayal. As the years passed, she began to doubt her ability to care for the library and lived in constant fear. That fear was stoked by threats from powerful, wealthy supernaturals. She never revealed the source of those threats, but it makes sense to assume the men who orchestrated your mother’s death and captured were responsible.”

Ansel pauses to take a sip of water. “When Karasi was barely a year younger than you, Tremayne contacted me. He saw Karasi’s successful shift as the best way to help the library. He’d hoped it would give Atanea hope or convince Karasi that she was meant to be the next librarian.”

I can’t list the emotions battering my chest. My grandmother endured pain, suffering, and ridicule. Her distress transferred to Karasi – a child who just needed her mother. I feel sorry for both of them, but the unfortunate series of events had an instigator. Anger battles with empathy.

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