Page 12 of Broken Destiny

Duggar is nowhere to be seen, but the four men remain. Tremayne’s eyes glitter and Ansel smiles as they bow toward me. The insolent beastmaster hides his disgust as he executes a shallower bow while the representative from the House of Others continues to show little emotion as he mimics the gesture.

“Congratulations, Librarian,” Tremayne says smoothly. His tone is pleased. “Ansel can finish your induction here, but welcome to Apocrypha, the Hidden Academy.”

I can’t help the surge of pleasure that courses through my blood. I belong. Maybe not at this strange academy and perhaps not outside these walls. But within these walls, I belong. I have a purpose.

Tremayne and the others walk out the front doors where the morning light filters in wanly, leaving Ansel and me in the echoing front room.

Ansel smiles. “I’ve always known you would be next.”

“Always?” I ask carefully.

Ansel frowns, perhaps realizing what he said. My fear spikes again as I remember the symbol on his finger. He isn’t my tormentor, but he might be acquainted with the man. He motions toward the wide doors carved with runes. “Let’s enter the building so you can sit. I’ll tell you what I know and what you can expect.”

He steps in front of me, but he needn’t have bothered. The doors swing open before he touches them, revealing the room. My breath stalls in my chest as excitement pours through me. Finally, I get to see the fabled library in all its glory. Although I just learned about it, it seems like I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. Maybe Duggar is right and it’s in my blood. Ansel waits at the door, and I get the feeling that he wants me to enter first. I crutch forward, thinking I’ll have to bring in my chair in so I can get around more easily.

I step through the door, take a deep breath, and look around me. My chest deflates. It looks utterly…normal. There’s a massive counter to the side where I imagine I’ll sit. A door behind the desk might lead to a bathroom or an office. The bookshelves stretch from wall to wall, but the interior seems smaller than it appeared from the outside. The shelves themselves are sleek, dark mahogany, not the typical metal bookcases of the city library. The ceiling is gorgeous, painted with the constellations of the skies, and there are a few cozy sitting areas situated among the stacks. The physics and dimensions of the room shouldn’t allow me to see down each row and into each corner, but I can if I shift a little in each direction. It’s better than any other library I’ve been in, but I expected…more.

“This is it?” I try to keep the disappointment from my voice.

Ansel coughs, but it sounds like he’s hiding a laugh. I look sharply at him in question. “Look again, Librarian, with more than the human eyes you’ve been using for so long.”

I resist the urge to roll those very human eyes at him. It’s what I have in my head. How else am I supposed to see? But I close my eyes, connect to the strange presence I felt in the heart of the library, and reopen them slowly. My breath stalls in my chest. It’s majestic. The ceiling isn’t actually there. It’s an illusion. Instead, the library rises for stories, far taller than I guessed. Curling wooden balustrades surround the internal courtyard space that leads upward to a glass-covered dome. The morning light filters rays into the building, not quite reaching the corners of the book heaven. On each floor, more shelves wait like silent sentries. There are more books than I could ever count, far more than I could hope to read. And how in the hell am I supposed to get up there? Now I understand why Duggar suggested I attempt to grow my wings. I’ll need them.

The bottom floor does not actually stop at the limits I saw earlier. Beyond the thin shimmer in the air where I saw the previous barriers, it spreads further in every direction. “So the walls and the ceiling, they’re an illusion?” I ask simply.

Ansel motions to a nearby table with several cushioned chairs around it. I eagerly take a seat, even though the expected pain isn’t assaulting my limbs with the strength it usually bears. I imagine the decrease in pain has something to do with the library because I’ve already walked and stood a lot today.

After we sit, a coffee pot and two cups appear magically on the table. I jump in surprise. The sudden appearances will take some getting used to. I’ve lived in a mostly human environment for the past seven years.

“They’re an illusion of a sort,” Ansel explains, reminding me of my original question as he pours a cup of coffee. He offers it to me, and I realize it’s already been lightened with cream. I take a hesitant sip. It’s just how I like my coffee, unsweetened. When Ansel pours himself a cup, it comes out black. A magic coffee pot. Now, that is useful.

“You weren’t raised magically, and if you were, I assume you’ve blocked those memories? Good and bad?” He stares at me from across the shiny surface of the table. I don’t respond, so he continues. “The reason I’m asking is that every child in the magical community knows about this library. It hasn’t always been situated in this place. Its location moves to where it’s needed most, to where its caretakers are. The sphinxes have been librarians for as long as the library has existed, and they’re born of the same bloodline. Except the Abrams disappeared over two hundred years ago. The last two librarians were not of your lineage nor were they sphinxes.”

“Disappeared?” I ask carefully. I blocked memories of my childhood, but I don’t remember a mother or father. Wouldn’t I have retained those memories if they were welcoming?

“Hunted,” Ansel admits with a grimace. “Some within the magical community believe that if the library is unguarded, they might have access to its secrets. The information within these walls can be very dangerous, Zosia.”

“And are those people still around?”

“I imagine there are a few, but the most notable and most infamous was caught before your birth and sentenced to die. This was the man who killed your last known ancestor. I wasn’t present at his execution, but someone I trust told me he saw it personally.”

“But?” I ask slowly. It doesn’t surprise me that my ancestor was killed if my kind were hunted.

“But,” Ansel begins on a long exhalation, “your childhood indicates he might not have been working alone. He either had a following, a protégé, or someone who wanted to finish his work.”

My hands tighten around my coffee cup. I look away from him, noticing all the tiny details I didn’t catch at first glance. The staircase that winds to each floor is carved with small images, and tapestries depicting scenes I can’t decipher from here decorate the walls all the way to the top. I don’t know how I’ll navigate those stairs, but I’ll find a way.

“How long have you known who or where I was?”

“Since you checked into the human hospital. I apologize that I didn’t find out until after it was too late to provide a magical healer for your legs. Your existence was kept a carefully guarded secret. I was tasked with finding your bloodline since it disappeared, but the state you were in when you were brought to the hospital revealed how much danger you faced. It was better to keep you out of the magical world until you were safe here.” That brought up the question of his age, but it wasn’t the most critical piece of information.

“That’s the reason I’ve been at the orphanage?”

Ansel doesn’t meet my eyes as he looks into his coffee cup. “You couldn’t come here until you came of age, which in the magical community is nineteen. I helped forge your papers at the orphanage to hide your real last name and age so they didn’t kick you out prematurely. I couldn’t do more than that without drawing attention to you, although I offered anonymous donations for your care.”

I snort. Where did that money go? Maybe to Mother Mary’s secret pot habit? Not that I’m judging her. Being around screaming brats all day would make me want to pick up a calming practice too. I’m not mad at Ansel. My time in the orphanage wasn’t all bad; at least I had my ghost friend. My heart stutters.

“Kodi.” I change the subject abruptly. “He came to me last night. He’s a slave, Ansel. Do I have any influence here to change that?”

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