“Exactly.” Hysan moves closer so I’ll look at him, but when I don’t lift my gaze, he lowers his voice and murmurs, “You inspired us all, and we inspired you back. Each of us let you in, but you let all of us in. That’s why it has to be you, Rho—because inside that beautiful Cancrian heart, you carry a piece of all of us.”
My heart.
Everything keeps coming back to that: A dead organ that can’t find its beat.
The anger rushes to my chest again, like it’s determined to punch through my glacier. “How can my heart stand up against their hate?” I ask, my voice rising until I’m shouting. “Pretty words are nothing next to the Marad’s weapons! A Murmur murdered Deke. A Murmur murdered Stan. A Murmur murdered Nishi. I loved them more than the Zodiac, and my heart failed to protect them.” I’m yelling at the wall, the floor, the couch, at anything but him.
“How the hell can you still believe in me?” I demand, sucking in a raking breath. “How have you always been so sure my light can stop any of this darkness?”
He’s quiet as he bridges the small space between us and gently cups my cheek with his hand. “Violence isn’t an ending—it’s a cycle. Someone will always build a bigger weapon: I can design a device more powerful than a Murmur, but tomorrow our enemies will design something even deadlier, and on and on we’ll go until we end up here, on the brink of our mutual destruction. You don’t fight fire with fire, Rho,” he says, his voice husky. “You quell it with water.”
His mouth is close enough to kiss, and I finally look into his vibrant eyes. The golden star of his right iris sparkles, and I try calling up some of the magic I once felt when I looked at him. But the ice in my chest is too cold for love’s warmth.
“I’m sorry, Hysan,” I say, falling back a step. “You mean a lot to me, and I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, but I’m not the same person you knew. And the truth is”—I suck in a quick breath because the fissure in my chest is widening again—“I’m not in love with you anymore.”
I’m too much of a coward to look into his eyes when I say it, so my gaze finds the marble floor. My gut churns from how much I hate hurting him, but I don’t have the energy to keep playing games. I just want to do my part to close the portal and then disappear.
“I had amazing parents who raised me,” he says unexpectedly.
I wrinkle my brow and look up.
“Only problem is they weren’t real. They were androids.” He sounds less sad and more somber, the way he did when he addressed his House. “My family was a lie, and I couldn’t escape the knowledge of that because I was the forger. For most of my life, everything has been under my control: My House, my home, my heart. Until I fell for you.”
“Hysan, stop,” I say, drawing back, away from him. “You can’t charm me into feeling something that I don’t.” I stand against the far wall and cross my arms over my chest. “I just need you to be my friend—”
“I can’t,” he says, and his voice breaks on the word. “I can’t give up on you.”
There’s a shine in his eyes that robs me of speech.
“When everything in your life is fake, you know something real when you find it.” His green gaze smolders as he strides over, and I try to move but my legs won’t work. “So if you think I’m just letting you go, then as you Cancrians would say, you’re dreaming.”
My pulse leaps to action, and I say, “Hysan, don’t—”
But his fingers dig into my curls and he pulls my face into his, and before I can push him off, his lips part mine.
The Abyssthe-like rush of his kiss fills my mind with buzzing, and his hand cradles my head protectively as he pushes me into the wall, the warmth of his touch igniting my skin too fast, like a fire that’s been fed an accelerant—
And I gasp as the glacier in my chest bursts.
37
MY GUARD COMES CRASHING DOWN, and flames engulf my insides until I can’t breathe through the flood of feelings surging through me.
Hysan’s kiss lifts my curse, and all the pain I’d been stockpiling rushes to the surface, and for the first time since the Sumber, I break down in horrible, soul-scratching sobs.
Stan and Nishi are gone.
Hysan scoops me up in his arms and carries me into a bedroom, depositing me on the bed. Then he presses me into his chest and kisses my hair as I cry hysterically, his hand caressing my back gently as he whispers, “You’re not alone, Rho. I’m here. You’re loved, and I’m not going anywhere.”
I can’t breathe. I lost Stan. My brother isn’t here because Aryll killed him—the traitor Hysan warned us about but we refused to see. “Stan,” I groan between sobs, and Hysan tightens his hold, his heart racing faster in my ear.
He kisses my head again and whispers, “I’m so sorry, Rho.”
“I abandoned Nishi,” I choke out. I lost my brother and my sister, the only family I had left, my best friends and the best people I’ve ever known. Everything in me has shattered, and just gasping for breath scrapes my throat.
I can barely see through my puffy eyes, and the knot in my chest won’t loosen, until my heart feels like it will give out and my limbs start shivering uncontrollably. “I c—can’t stop shaking,” I stammer, and Hysan rubs my back and arms to generate heat.
“It’s okay, Rho,” he says soothingly. “You’ve never abandoned anyone.”
“I—I became a monster,” I say, fighting down more sobs. “I’m no better than Aquarius. When I had to, I betrayed Risers. I turned over Gamba, I tortured Corinthe—”
“Shhh,” says Hysan, and he takes my chin in his hands to look at me. My eyes are so weighed down with tears that his face looks like a low-resolution hologram. “You’re not perfect. None of us are. But you have to forgive yourself right now because you’re our leader, and we’ll follow your example. If you hold back, so will we.”
“Hysan—I’ve just lost my family,” I say, scowling at him. “I can’t lead this army.”
He wipes the wetness off my face with his fingers. “You’re this army’s leader whether you acknowledge it or not. Even if you stand in the background, every Zodai here will still look to you for their cues. You’ve been a leader from the moment you left the Crab constellation against your Advisors’ wishes, so forget the titles you’ve worn; they’re just words. Whatever you call yourself, it will never change what you are.”
I shake my head in defeat. “And what am I?”
He plants a soft kiss on my cheek, near my ear. “You’re the brightest star in the Zodiac. Hope.”
• • •
My eyes are still red and puffy when we board Equinox just a couple of hours later, and then our army of over twelve thousand Zodai takes off for House Ophiuchus.
’Nox is in the lead, and behind us flies the rest of our fleet. Most of the Tomorrow Party members aren’t fighters, so we’re counting on them being busy boarding the ships on Black Moon in anticipation of going through the portal. But the Marad was promised their planet back, and they’re not going to want us anywhere near it.
After everything the Zodai have put Risers through, this is their chance to make us feel as homeless and desperate and unwanted as they’ve felt for three millennia. And from the intelligence the Zodai gathered on Phaet, there are at least a hundred thousand soldiers.
Our only advantage is that imbalanced Risers can’t Center themselves. They won’t be able to sense the Psynergy, so they won’t know what part of the planet to protect. Whereas we have Ophiuchus, and his close connection to his home should enable him to pick up on that Psynergy so we can land in the general vicinity of what’s left of his Star Stone.
Our army will have to fend off the Marad while Ophiuchus and I go seal the portal.
I spend my first day on ’Nox training with Mathias in the storage hold, the largest private space on the ship, so that I can learn to shield myself from the Murmur with my Barer
. The Zodai believe these shields are our best chance against the Marad since they render the Murmurs useless.
“The trick is coating the blue energy with Psynergy and bonding both elements,” he says in a deep, meditative voice, our eyes closed as we slowly cycle through Yarrot. “Let the electric tingling in your skin match the buzzing of your blood, until there’s a balance between your inner and outer selves, your physical and metaphysical states. . . .”
By our second day of training, I can shield myself at a moment’s notice, and we turn the room over to Ezra and Gyzer, who have also been using it to train, while Mathias goes to take his turn at the helm.
I dart to the main cabin, which I’m sharing with Hysan, to avoid running into anyone; Ophiuchus, Gamba, Pandora, and my mother have taken over the front of the ship, where they’re meditating and trying to locate the Talisman.
“Why am I here?”
Skarlet’s statuesque figure steps into my path right before I reach my room, her arms crossed and brow puckered.
“You’ll have to ask your parents—”
“Answer me, crab,” she demands, blocking my body with hers as I try to go around.
“Don’t you want to be here?” I snap, frowning up at her. “You’re the one who’s always going on about how you’re a leader and deserve to be treated as one.”
“I could be on General Eurek’s ship.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
Her shoulders pull back with a pride she can’t repress. “Hysan said you invited me to be in your party.”
“And you accepted. So what’s the problem, ram?”
She swallows down her attitude and says in a slightly less entitled tone, “I just want to know why.”
Since she’s trying to be sincere, I decide to answer with the truth. “Because you’re one of the most physically powerful warriors in our army, yet your weapon of choice is your voice.” My face heating up a little, I add, “And for the record, if I were Hysan, I would have picked you.”
I leave her standing dumbstruck in the hallway and slip inside the cabin. But as soon as I do, I see Nishi again. She’s all I ever see in here.
I approach the bed slowly, looking at the space where her body lay beside mine as we slept, hands clasped together. For all my pain, I know her death hasn’t fully hit me yet. Nor has Stan’s. I haven’t had the luxury to grieve them right.
And I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of feeling those feelings or dying.
I get the sense the experiences won’t be very different.
I switch on the black opal and try to push those emotions back so I can See. The room is drowned in stars, and I orbit the lights, searching for a sign of what’s coming. Since I let the Zodai down on Libra, I want to at least be useful in some way. And contributing from in here, alone, is far preferable to doing so out there, with the others.
Though I know I should be focusing on the Dark Matter by the Thirteenth House, I suddenly feel a pull toward Cancer that I can’t ignore. The beautiful blue of our world is barely visible through the belt of broken moons that engulfs it, and I long to see it again the way it looked in Aquarius’s memories.
A bright light abruptly blazes above the Crab constellation, and I feel a familiar presence in the Psy.
I know it’s crazy and it can’t be real, but I think my brother is trying to talk to me.
I close my eyes to tunnel deeper into my Center—and as soon as the holographic stars disappear, there he is.
Stanton stands before me in a Cancrian blue uniform, like a vision that’s been waiting just behind my eyelids.
His pale green eyes are luminous, his curls are bouncy, and his aura is glowing. Stan?
Hey, sis.
At the sound of his comforting voice, every other concern in the Zodiac melts away. But—how? Is this real?
I leap up to hug him, but my hands go right through his body, like he’s a hologram.
You’ll have to redefine real, he says with his goofy grin. But I think so.
Are you in Empyrean?
His radiant eyes dim a little. Not yet. Not until I know you’re okay.
I can hardly breathe. Cancrians believe those who pass on with unsettled souls become constellations in the sky and eventually return to life to complete their unfinished business. Could it be that Stan might come back?
I don’t think so, he says sadly. And yes, I can read your thoughts in here.
I shake my head in utter bewilderment. But then why haven’t you moved on yet?
I think because I can’t let go. Not until I know you’ve got this.
Well I don’t want you to go, so I’ll be a perpetual wreck if that’s what it takes—
Rho. His voice grows parental, and I miss it so much that I’m torn between smiling and crying. Do you remember the story I told you about the girl who was swept away from her planet and landed on a feathery world with a talking bird?
I nod and it doesn’t surprise me he’s brought it up, as I’ve been thinking a lot about that tale.
In the story, little Rho had a choice to be sad about the past or to exist in the present—to smile or frown. It’s the lesson of your favorite Stantonism: Don’t fear what you can’t touch.
It was a naïve lesson, I can’t help saying.
Then you misunderstood it, he says, and his face is so close that it’s like some new form of torture to be unable to feel him. What little Rho can touch is the grass beneath her feet. What she can’t touch is her home. She’s creating a fear that doesn’t exist—her home is fine without her—and what’s worse is that fear isn’t doing her any good.
He looks so young and healthy, and he sounds so sure of himself that it seems impossible he’s really gone.
When you awoke from the Sumber, he says gently, you couldn’t get past every second of Nishi’s suffering enough to focus on the present. And now, you can’t get over Nishi’s and my passing—but I’m not gone yet, Rho. I continue to exist, but only if you do.
He reaches out with his hand, and I can almost feel his skin stroking my cheek. If you fade, you erase me, too. And Nishi. And Deke. And Dad. But if you let us in and let us become part of your light—if our memory shines through your words and your actions—then you honor us, and we’re not gone. Don’t doom us to the darkness. Bring us into the light with you.
Tears streak down my face, and I’m not sure how much more crying my eyes can take. But what if this conversation is only happening in my head?
It is, and you’re doing it again: You’re looking for reasons to frown instead of smile.
But what if I’m scripting your words even now?
So typical of you to take credit for my brilliance. You can’t let me have anything, can you? Not even this last moment to shine.
I laugh for the first time in months, and the change is startling. The reaction loosens my chest, and it’s only through this flicker of levity that I register the weight of everything I’ve been carrying.
But my relief doesn’t last long because just like when I spoke with Moira, my session in the Psy is cut short as the ground starts shaking.
Stan raises his voice over all the noise. Rho, forget the past for now, and don’t fret about the future! Remember that every second is a choice you make.
I love you so much, Stan! I cry out as his image starts flickering, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m certain I heard him say I love you, too.
• • •
I race to the control helm, where Hysan and Mathias are laughing about something. They both grow alert the moment they see me. “What is it?” asks Hysan.
I look from one to the other.
“I’m ready.”
38
I STAND IN THE NOSE, nerves buzzing in my stomach, as Hysan cues up the transmission. He contacted every ship in our fleet so they’ll broadcast my message.
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Everyone on ’Nox has gathered around to watch, and even Ophiuchus leaves his Center to be present. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hoping I’ll see Stan behind my eyelids again. But even though he’s not there, I still feel his presence.
Rubi was right. Our brothers never leave us.
I take another moment for myself, and then I open my eyes and nod at Hysan to begin the broadcast.
“I stand before you,” I start, “not as some shining beacon of perfection, but as the most flawed among you.”
I look away from the recording device and let my gaze trail across my friends. “I’ve hurt the people I love most,” I say, gazing from Hysan to Mathias. “I’ve led an armada of Zodai right into the enemy’s hands,” I say, looking into Pandora’s amethyst eyes. “I’ve betrayed my family”—I stare at Mom and Gamba, then Gyzer and Ezra—“and my friends. I fell so far that I even became the monsters I was trying to defeat,” I say, thinking of Corinthe.
“And I broke the Taboo.” My gaze returns to Hysan’s, and he’s watching me with such fierce love in his eyes that I feel my inner flame growing to new heights.
“Yet, whether or not I deserve it, you have all found enough love in your hearts to forgive me, and I’m so grateful. But now I want you to do something infinitely harder—I want you to forgive yourselves.”
I stare into Ophiuchus’s starlit eyes.
“The past is important only insofar as it informs the present—but when memories grow so powerful that they drag us back rather than propel us forward, they’re not worth lugging with us anymore.” Looking into the device again, I speak to the whole fleet. “If you can absolve someone who’s sinned as much as I have, you can absolve yourselves.”
I can’t help pausing and looking at Mom. I think she was right: We’ll never have the mother-daughter relationship I longed for as a child. . . . But I’m no longer that child.
My nest is gone because I don’t need it anymore.