I hope their time together brings them closer. Garrett has an opportunity to begin eroding her insecurities and convince Zosia that she’s not as hideous as she believes. I’m grateful this task doesn’t lie solely upon me because I lack the patience. I just want her to believe me when I tell her she’s beautiful.
While a massage will help her tight muscles and anxiety, the one-on-one time will also provide Zosia with a relaxed impression of my brother. In private, she’ll see that he isn’t really an asshole; his rough exterior hides a gooey interior.
Zosia isn’t the only one with insecurities. Addington was always disappointed in his heir’s appearance. Garrett isn’t considered handsome in the classical sense, and he’s never had the lean build of our father. Before his obsession with weightlifting, he ate for comfort. Cooks and other household staff snuck desserts and processed food to him after a particularly trying day.
Although his workout regime began because of Addington’s fat-shaming, my brother’s motivations swiftly changed. The intense routine offered control and discipline. Since he had little control over the rest of his life, he clung to the new habits with an extreme diligence that bordered on obsession.
The alpha continued to be disappointed. Addington regarded Garrett’s increased musculature as a lewd display of power. Realizing that our father would never be satisfied, my brother ramped up his efforts to spite the narcissistic shifter. Over time,however, Garrett’s reasons became his own. The self-control and image became integral to his identity.
I blink. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing on the fifth-floor landing while my mind wanders, but I reset my focus and begin sprinting up the stairs two at a time. In our previous life, I ran several miles a day. I don’t necessarily like running, but it offered a certain freedom. When I started the habit, I imagined I was running away from Addington and his expectations. Some days, it required substantial effort to run towards home instead of away. I always found a different route for the return because retracing my steps felt like a failure. As an added bonus, people generally don’t speak to runners.
Although I no longer need to escape, the physical effort is a good reminder. Sometimes, I forget that I occupy a fleshy shell because my brain overpowers all else.
My heart rate increases, but I’m not struggling to catch my breath by the time I reach the top of the stairs. I consider doing another lap just for fun but remind myself that I’m here for a reason. If any research on the transference process exists, it will be on these shelves. Zosia’s mental library doesn’t include every title on the tenth floor.
I could live on this level if the others visited occasionally. The whole of the library shivers with magical energy, but this floor vibrates. The protective spells saturate the air with power and create a peculiar resonation, like a tuning fork, as the ambient magic interacts with mine. The result isn’t unpleasant.
“Welcome, young mage.” The tenth floor’s dedicated goblin pops into existence and greets me in a calm voice. His presence nearly sends me hurtling back down the stairs. I hadn’t expected his appearance to be so prompt, and I’d been distracted – like usual.
“Greetings, Fin,” I manage as I regain my balance and slip off my shoes. Meanwhile, my heart pounds against my ribs.
The goblin probably knows the reason I’m here, but he just hovers in midair and stares at me. All of the goblins are aware of what happens in the library, but Fin doesn’t offer information as readily as his wife and … brother-husband? I’m uncertain of the correct term for Gilly’s two mates.
“I seek ways to prevent my imminent death,” I announce cheerfully as I step fully onto the etched planks. The wood hums under my feet.
“I see.” The goblin’s expression turns thoughtful, as if I’ve just presented a complicated riddle. “There are multiple books on each of the library’s floors that would address that topic. However, since you came here, I assume you’re specifically referring to the magical transference process.”
My mind is instantly diverted as I conjure ways to avoid death in every subject – history, science, literature, art ….
A physical shake of my head doesn’t rattle my thoughts into the correct places, but the habit brings me back to the moment. “Correct on both points.”
Fin’s strange eyes reflect the orange and red security runes as he contemplates the tenth floor’s arsenal. He lacks brows, but his forehead crinkles into a similar frown. “We possess books on the transference of magic, but many only offer obscure theories. We don’t have anything that specifically addresses the power of a cosmic mage. Your abilities live in a class of their own, as you’ve been told, and there are no accounts of this power being surrendered willingly. The books that discuss stealing power from objects or people have been sealed for reasons you can probably guess.”
I nod absently, but my mind is stuck on something else he said. “Cosmic mage?”
Fin ignores this particular question, but he’s unwittingly offered another option. The goblins are deep wells ofinformation. This one might know more than a book if I can convince him to reveal his secrets.
I’m debating how to ask when he pirouettes in midair and begins leading me through the maze of shelves. When we turn a corner, I notice the bookcases are arranged differently from our last visit. When all of us came, the shelves formed the same orderly lines as the other floors. This time, we wander a labyrinthine path formed from the varied lengths and heights of the furnishings. The dim lighting and magical symbols enhance the mysterious ambiance.
“You may be leading me somewhere, but the answers might be right here. I think you know more than the vague books you mentioned. My magic isn’t patient and Zosia needs my strength.” I say the words quietly, but the secret will only keep as long as my magic does.
Fin glances back at me but continues to carve a straight path through the maze. His wings maintain a constant speed, and he turns corners without looking. I can’t hold his regard for long.
“This is a problem, isn’t it?” he asks after what seems like a very long time. I feel like we’ve just walked in a circle.
I squint toward him with confusion and try to remember the question I asked. Maybe it was different than I thought? “Of course a magical eruption is an issue. We realized that today. What are you referring to?”
Fin’s unnatural gaze turns away, and I’m again presented with his back, although it’s hidden behind his strange wings. I can’t determine the material that composes them. They appear leafy in color and texture, but they shine like dragonfly wings. Depending on speed, they rustle like a forest canopy or hum like a hummingbird.
“Your magic is an issue, but we’ve already addressed that. It’s why you signed a contract and why you came to me. I refer to the other problem.”
“Other problem?” I parrot.
“Our librarian’s strength,” he says without any detectable emotion. “You are not the only one worried. The trauma she suffered disrupted the flow of her physical and mental reserves. Sphinxes have greater stamina and vigor than most supernaturals. They require it because being a librarian with four guardians and navigating the politics of the supernatural community are exhausting tasks. The fact that she’s alive right now is a testament to her fortitude, but she hasn’t drawn upon her reserves in years. She didn’t need to.”
His words stop my forward motion. It’s the first time anyone, human or otherwise, has indicated that she might not be perfect for her role. “I thought being a librarian was in her blood.”
Fin halts with me, but his wings flutter faster with agitation. “Of course it is. No one alive can do a better job than Zosia Abram.” He pauses to ensure I’m listening before he continues. “I am not saying she isn’t capable, young mage. I am saying that Destiny does not err. There is a reason you are one of her guardians.”