what if it’d fallen out while you were out? Around Lana, or worse, her father?” She shook her head. “I’ve told you so many times, you have to be extra careful around those Tuner kids. The Council can never know. Do you even know what would happen if they found out who your father was?”
“I don’t even know who my father was.” I crossed my legs angrily.
Her face softened. “I’ve told you, he was a good man. Even though we didn’t know each other very long…we did care for each other, Destiny.” She rubbed my knee.
I bowed my head, swallowing the aching lump forming in my throat. It wasn’t her fault I didn’t know him. She even tried to make me feel closer to him by calling me Destiny—when no one else was around. She’d told me once that my father had named me.
I cleared my throat. “Besides, they’re my friends. I’ve known Mr. Tuner my whole life. What do you think he’d do if he found out, really?”
My mom visibly shuddered. “I don’t know.” She grasped my hand in hers and stared directly into my mismatched eyes. “But I’m not willing to find out. And with the Narcolym Council about to be here, you have to be so careful. Hopefully they won’t stay long.”
Now wasn’t the time to inform her they were already here, and that they’d brought extras. I laid my head on her shoulder. “I’ll be careful, Mom. Promise.” She leaned us back on the couch, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “But, I don’t understand. If the experiment was such a failure, why are the Councils coming together again after so long?”
She ran her fingers through my hair. “I don’t know. But you’re my miracle, Destiny Harkly. Never forget that. You’re special. And whatever they’re up to has nothing to do with you—with us. We just have to get you through the change.”
My blood ran cold, as if icy fingers crawled down my spine. Neither of us knew what would happen during the change. I was the only Kythan to live through the Councils’ trial repopulation test.
As Jace had said, centuries of war between the races had almost annihilated the Shythe completely. After the Treaty Act ended the war, my mother was part of a secret operation. One that had selected a handful of Shythe and Narcolym to bond and give birth—for the first time—to a mixed breed of shifters.
The majority of women couldn’t conceive, and the ones who did had their children taken away and “disposed” of. The project was deemed a failure, the different bloodlines considered too incompatible to pool and repopulate our race.
When Mom had found out she was pregnant, she panicked. And after being told my father—my Narcolym father—had been killed by rebel Shythe protesting the Treaty Act, she’d fled the secret facility, changed our names, and moved us to the last standing Shythe haven. Something had to have been terribly wrong with the babies for the Councils to terminate the project the way they had. And it scared me to death to think about what might happen during my first shift.
Mom pressed a kiss to the top my head, bringing me out of my burdened thoughts. “Destiny, I know you don’t want to discuss this again, but I really think you need to reconsider going to the Academy.”
I pushed away from her. “What? Why? I’ve already told you how careful I’ll be.”
“Because, it’s hard enough to keep your identity hidden in a human school, even if all Kythan are hidden there.” She inhaled deeply. “But at the Shythe Academy, you’ll be expected to use your power. And we won’t even know until this weekend what that power will be.”
“But I have to go. Won’t it look more suspicious if I don’t? Like we actually have something to hide?”
Mom sat forward, pressing her fingers to her temples. Then she stood and walked into the kitchen, whispering on her way out, “I just don’t know.”
This was what she’d wanted to discuss, I realized. She’d mentioned her fear of me attending the Academy before. But now that the change was so close, she wanted to stop me from going.
I folded my arms across my chest. I was frightened, but I still wanted the chance to be with my friends. Before the Treaty Act, the Academy had prepared Shythe for war, teaching ancient battle techniques passed down from our Egyptian Guardian ancestors. Now, after we turned seventeen, it was where we learned to control our