Numen turns to me suddenly and flashes me a charming smile. “But we have a first-rate fortune-teller right in this room! What have you seen in your reads, Lady Rho?”
Hearing my name makes me feel suddenly and fully here, as if I’ve been yanked from my slow awakening into complete consciousness. And I hear myself say, “I’ve seen a warning for Capricorn.”
I freeze in shock at my own words, my eyes locked on the brown-suited students. Speaking up now might be a mistake, but instinct compelled me to do it.
I remember this feeling.
“I don’t know if the source of this omen is reliable,” I caution everyone, breaking the resounding silence. “But I think we should warn Sage Ferez, just in case. Tierre might be the Marad’s true target.”
Brynda nods and flicks on her Tracker to send the message. She doesn’t doubt me or ask follow-up questions or consult her Advisors. She just trusts.
It’s Brynda’s reaction more than anything else that makes me realize I’m not weak and broken. The Plenum just wants me to feel like I am.
Vecily’s experience proves the same thing that mine has: Change will not start at the top. As Hysan said, it starts right here, with these students . . . my army. My Sight on its own won’t make a difference, but coupled with believers, it just might. My voice is my weapon—and its reach is the true power I wield.
It all comes down to what Hysan said just a few hours ago, about the very reason the Plenum fears me even now. The ambassadors control the agenda today, but we will control it tomorrow.
Suddenly Brynda’s spiky-haired Advisor bursts into the office and turns on the largest wallscreen, which broadcasts images of a massive explosion that happened moments ago.
My trust in myself came too late.
The Marad has struck Capricorn.
12
THE EXPLOSION ON TIERRE WAS close to our Cancrian settlement, and now I can’t get in touch with Stanton on his Wave. This nightmare feels too frighteningly familiar.
The Psy shield isn’t down yet, but I’m testing my Ring compulsively. Brynda said she’d deactivate the shields, so access to the Psy could return at any moment. I need to know Stan’s okay . . . after everything we’ve survived, he has to make it through this.
The Marad duped us all. Everything they said was a lie—the deadline, the target, the mission. They did exactly what Ophiuchus said they would: tricked the masses by faking left and going right, leaving Sagittarius evacuated and locked down, while Capricorn was overcrowded and vulnerable.
I knew. I knew, and I didn’t say anything.
Ferez trusted me, and this is how I repaid his faith. Hundreds of Capricorns are dead—an estimate that keeps rising—and a wing of the Zodiax was obliterated. If I’d spoken up, they could have taken precautions. Ferez could have searched the stars for a sign of the threat. Chroniclers could have more intensely monitored travel in and out of Tierre.
But I stayed silent. Just like I didn’t mention the threat to Thebe. Or the bubbles in the water before the Maw attacked Stanton.
He has to be alive.
At the Centaurion building, every student, Advisor, and Stargazer crowds the dining hall—the largest gathering place—our eyes glued to the massive wallscreen. There’s a gaping crater in Verity’s earth, exposing not sedimentary rock but broken layers of the Zodiax.
When we disband, leaving the officials to bring Sagittarius back online, the Capricorns and Piscenes take off almost immediately to Tierre to help. The other Houses haven’t decided what they’re doing yet.
I return to Nishi’s house with the Sagittarians and lock myself up in my room, waiting to hear from Stanton and for the Psy shield to come down. Hysan promised to fly Aryll and me to Capricorn first thing in the morning, but until then, only one being knows what’s coming for the Zodiac. And while he’s the last face I want to see, I have to find him.
Now that he’s been proven right, Ophiuchus will be furious I didn’t believe him. Maybe he even returned to the master after I refused to join him—or maybe he knew I wouldn’t believe him all along, and his warning was just part of a plan to gain my trust so he can set me up for something worse.
Maybe Aryll is right, and Ophiuchus and the master are one and the same. He could have sent me that vision of himself struggling against someone stronger just to mislead me.
My Wave starts buzzing in my hand, and I frantically crack it open.
“Rho—I’m okay.” Stanton’s hologram blooms out on the bed beside me.
“Thank Helios,” I breathe, the air finally reaching my lungs. I survey his image closely. He’s wearing a white medical robe, and his hologram is hazy and flickering. “You’re injured—your chest—”
“Just a burn, it’ll heal,” he says, tightening the robe around him to cover it up. “I’m about to get treated, but first they’re letting me use a transmitter to call you. The blast happened at night, so the Cancrians were sleeping in the Zodiax. Our hotel wasn’t hit, and none of them were hurt.”
“What about you?”
He goes quiet, and blood rushes to his face. “Jewel and I . . . we’d gone on a midnight swim.”
I feel myself going red, too. On Cancer, a midnight swim is when a couple gets together for the first time. Since we can’t bring our significant others back to our parents’ house, it usually happens at night, in or near the Cancer Sea.
“She’s fine and with her family right now,” he says quickly, eager to fast-forward. “I would have reached out to you sooner, but I lost my Wave in the ocean in the attack. Again.”
“You should really think about trading it in for a Scan this time.”
“Maybe I’m a Rising Leo.”
I laugh, more from relief than humor. The average Leo runs through ninety-nine Lighters in his lifetime.
Stanton grows serious again, concern pooling in his pale green eyes. “Rho . . . I know you. I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not true.”
My spine goes as rigid as a Sensethyser. “What am I thinking, Stan?”
“That this is your fault. That you should have said something to Ferez. That this confirms you’re not a real leader—and it’s not true. Because if anything, this proves you’re everything Ferez said you are: our true Holy Mother, the one the stars have charged to protect us. Only I don’t think it’s just Cancer you’re protecting anymore.”
“Stan—”
“Just listen.” His voice takes on Dad’s comforting tone, and it hurts that I can’t reach out and touch him. “If the Plenum had trusted you—if I’d trusted you—you could have made a difference. I get that now. We’re holding you back, Rho. You don’t belong on Sagittarius, hiding from the Plenum, and you don’t belong on Capricorn, hiding from the Zodiac. You belong in the world—in all the worlds—leading, inspiring, and healing us.”
I shake my head even as my heart soars to hear my big brother say these words to me. Tears sting my eyes, but I resist them. “I belong with you, Stan. I’m going back to Capricorn first chance.”
“I knew that’s what you were planning—that’s why I had to reach you.” He stares steadily into my eyes. “That’s exactly what the Marad is counting on. It wants to slow you down and distract you, to make you doubt yourself. So don’t let it. You said it yourself, Rho. This is your chance to unite the Zodiac, to make the war that started with the destruction of our House end in light and not darkness.”
The tears are now streaming down my face because I can feel the decision firming up in my soul before my mind can consider it. Stanton is the only person I’ve ever wanted to make proud—and now that I’ve finally earned his faith, I can’t lose it.
“But we just found each other,” I say in a weak, whiny whisper.
“And we’ll find each other again,” he says, his eyes growing shiny. “I swear it, sis.”
After talking to Stanton, I feel at once ov
erwhelmingly relieved and intensely determined. I test my Ring again, and, at last, the Psy shield’s down.
Since my vision has been so blocked, I decide to do my reading from a White Room. Most of the group is huddled around the largest wallscreen in the heart of Nishi’s parents’ mansion, so I take a roundabout path to avoid running into anyone. On my way, I overhear two people arguing in one of the smaller kitchens.
“I’m just wondering why your astrological fingerprint registers two records.” It’s Hysan speaking.
I press into the wall, staying in the hallway’s shadow. “Why are you looking into my records?” That sounds like Aryll.
“I look into everyone who I’m going to be working with.”
“Right, I’m sure this is about work—”
“Meaning what? Speak plainly.”
“Rho’s been through a lot, okay? She needs her space. If you can’t deal with that, leave. Just don’t come to me looking for a fight, because I won’t get sucked into your drama.”
I don’t stick around to hear Hysan’s answer. New identities are only adopted for protection or because the person’s running from the law, and as far as I know, Aryll doesn’t fall into either of those categories. So why would he have two records?
I’m beyond curious, but I don’t want to spy. I’ll ask him tomorrow. Right now, there are more important things.
When I get to the dark White Room, I sit on the floor and try to clear my head of the ferocious guilt gnawing at me so I can See, but the room’s emptiness does nothing to influence my mind.
I flick on the star map. Our twelve constellations encircle Helios, and once I’ve accessed my Center, I stare at the pulsing Dark Matter covering parts of planets Cancer, Tethys, and Argyr. I move closer to the place where our four moons once shone, now patches of writhing blackness.
Darkness is spreading, drowning out the lights of our solar system. A chill races down my spine, and as I’m turning away from Cancer to inspect the other Houses, a light blazes bright above our constellation. And for a fleeting flicker of an instant, I see a familiar face in the stars.
Mathias?
The vision disappears before I can identify it with certainty, but I can’t stop staring at the spot where it had been. My heart swells up so much I think it might crack my rib cage. Could the Cancrian myth about the dead be true? Do those who pass on with unsettled souls really become constellations in the sky? Does that mean there’s a chance Mathias could come back?
I scour the whole galaxy for him. I practice Yarrot for hours to deepen my Center, and search every corner of the map for a hint of his midnight eyes. If the Thirteenth Guardian is real, why can’t Mathias be?
It’s the dead of night when I return to my room, no restless Sagittarians wandering along my path. After all the time I spent in the White Room, I didn’t meet Mathias or Ophiuchus in the Psy, nor did I see any omens. I’m still blocked.
I pull on my bed clothes—too frustrated to be sleepy but determined to force it—and as I’m climbing onto the mattress, there’s a knock on my door. The last thing I want is to see anyone, until I hear his voice.
“My lady?”
“Come in!” I sit up on the foamy lavender bedspread, feeling around for the controller to turn on the lights.
“I’ve got it,” says Hysan, pulling a lighter from his pocket. A small blue flame bursts to life in his hands, and he sticks it into a recess in the room’s stone walls, lighting the first in a string of connected candles tucked within the stone. The recess forms a pocket that encircles the room, so when the fire catches, the blue blaze spans the whole perimeter, releasing a soft lavender scent.
“Thought you might be hungry.” A pulsing glow illuminates Hysan’s face and gray coveralls as he moves closer to set a plate of food on the dresser.
“What’s the latest death toll?” I ask in a somber voice.
He perches at the edge of the vast bed. “You didn’t kill those people.”
“I should’ve told Ferez. He would have listened. He would have known what to do.”
“How? He’s never seen Ophiuchus. You’ve entered Psy territory no Zodai can explain or has experienced. You’re figuring this out as you go, Rho.”
I throw off the covers and pad across the heated stone floor to the dressing table to check out the treats he brought. “Aryll has a theory that Ophiuchus and the master are the same person. He thinks maybe the master is masking his own Psynergy signature to deceive me.”
“When did he say that?” Hysan’s voice is tight.
“On Capricorn, after I spoke with Ophiuchus.” I lean against the dresser and bite into a spongy cake. I like its soft texture, but the purple frosting is a tad too sweet.
“He never mentioned this theory before then?” presses Hysan.
“No . . . but it’s not like Ophiuchus was a frequent subject of discussion.” I finish the pastry in two bites. “Why, what’s up?”
“I don’t trust him.”
I already know what this is about, so I don’t ask for specifics. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I do trust him. He saved Stanton’s life on Gemini.”
“Rho, there’s something off about him. First he tells you his theory about Ophiuchus just when your decision was most likely to be swayed. Then, at the park today, he attends a meeting to which he wasn’t invited—”
“He wasn’t snooping, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” I say, knowing that Stanton probably instructed Aryll to stay close to me during this trip.
“Earlier tonight,” Hysan goes on, his voice dipping, “I accessed his records. I found a second, inaccessible file under his astrological fingerprint.” He rises to his feet and steps toward me. “Rho . . . that only happens if someone has altered their identity.”
I nod and say, “I’ll ask him about it.” Then I shove another cake in my mouth just to have something else to focus on.
“You’re not concerned?” asks Hysan, his eyes widening significantly, as if he doesn’t think I’ve heard him correctly.
“That’s why I said I’ll ask him,” I repeat, irked by the way Hysan is condemning Aryll without knowing the whole story—it’s not very Libran of him. “He’s my friend, you don’t know him, and you’re already judging—”
“I know how to make fair judgments,” Hysan cuts in, his voice sharp. “I’m a skilled reader of people, and I’m telling you it’s my opinion that he may not be trustworthy.”
I cross my arms, fed up with Hysan’s jealousy. First he thought Mathias seemed untrustworthy, so he secretly searched his cabin, and now he’s picking on Aryll. “You don’t have to trust him if you don’t want to,” I snap, my voice almost cold, “but I’m not pushing him away. He doesn’t have anybody else.”
Hysan frowns and stares at the candles surrounding us, looking lost in thought. Then he turns to me with newfound resolve. “Fine. Let’s be certain you’re right. We’ll feed Aryll false information that would appeal to the master and see what he does with it.”
“Aryll is not working for the master!” I say incredulously. “And I am not deceiving a friend, especially when this has more to do with the conversation I overheard you two having in the kitchen than with anything real. It’s not him you’re upset with, Hysan. You’re upset because he was trying to protect me, and you think that’s a job that only belongs to you.”
Hysan’s eyes flash, and the darkness deep within him, the counterbalance to his sunniness, rises closer to the surface. In a voice devoid of light, he says, “My lady, do not mistake my adoration of you for servitude. You may be the better seer, but I am the better judge of people. I will act as I feel is right, as I’ve sworn to do as a Guardian of the Zodiac.”
There’s nothing I can say. Hysan is right. So I just stare at him in defiant silence, my arms crossed.
“You’re still so determined not to trust me.” His voice is suddenly
low and sad. “Can’t you remember how you felt when Mathias wouldn’t listen to you?”
I look down to the stone ground, my neck unable to hold my head up. I can’t believe he would bring up Mathias now. And yet, once I move past the sting, I realize Hysan is right again. While I don’t think Aryll is a double agent, if Hysan has a doubt, I owe it to him to investigate it. After all, a mind closed to other possibilities here would be just like the stubborn mindset that led to the armada.
“Hysan . . .” I meet his gold-green gaze, and I’m startled by the pain painted on his features. “There’s enough going on without us fighting each other. Can I just talk to him first and see what I think before we do anything?”
He nods after a moment. “As you wish, my lady.”
With that, we’re out of words; silence brings out the sharpness of the stings our argument has caused.
“I’ll leave you to sleep,” murmurs Hysan. “Good night.” As he moves toward the door, I reach for his hand.
He turns and looks at me, and in the flickering blue light, I see the hunger Stanton spotted in Hysan’s eyes. But I think what truly bothered my brother was seeing my own hunger reflected back whenever I look at Hysan.
I slowly lead him toward the bed. Desire spreads to Hysan’s face and body, until I can feel it emanating from him like a physical force, making my blood buzz. I pull down the zipper of his coveralls, and he steps out from them until he’s left wearing only boxers.
The new muscles in his chest make me think of Mathias, but I jettison the thought from my mind. “Stay with me,” I whisper to Hysan, moving close enough to inhale his cedary scent. I pull off my long sleeping shirt so I’m also in my underwear.
“Ask me first,” he says, his voice husky as he moves closer, pressing into me. His skin is smooth and firm against mine, triggering goose bumps wherever he touches me. He feels warm and strong and safe—exactly how I want to feel.