Zodiac

  A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and as I reach for the door, I spy my expression in the mirror’s reflection. I’m so startled by the sudden flush in my cheeks and brightness in my eyes that I hesitate—it’s scary how someone I’ve just met can change so much about me, from my mood to my physical appearance.

  When I open the door, Hysan scans me up and down, and a light flashes from the golden bloom in his eye.

  “Did you just take a picture?”

  “A remembrance of your loveliness,” he says as he walks inside the cabin.

  Bubbles of conflicting emotions rise within me. The feelings bump into each other like Libran cities, bouncing through my body and confusing my thoughts, as I turn to face him. “Sometimes you make it very hard for me to picture you as a Guardian.”

  He stands closer to me than usual, and I realize I like him best as he’s dressed now, in the plain gray coveralls. It sets him apart from the stuffy members of his court.

  “But I’m the perfect Libran,” he says, counting off each word on his fingers. “Cordial, graceful, nonviolent, and, of course, endowed with a massive . . . intelligence.”

  We both burst into embarrassed laughter and look away. I’ve never met anyone like him before. Maybe that’s a stupid thing to say because I’ve never met another Libran . . . but I have a feeling they’re not all like him. The fact he was made Guardian at age eleven proves that.

  “What do your parents do?” I ask.

  “I’m an orphan. I never knew my parents.”

  It takes me a moment to react to the news. On Cancer, the Matriarchs make sure every child has a home. Growing up without parents would be awful, but to be made Guardian at eleven while forced to hide behind an android, all without a family’s support . . . I can’t even imagine what kind of childhood that must have been.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur, instinctively reaching out to touch his arm. The moment our skin makes contact, electricity sparks through me, and I pull my hand back.

  “You’re sweet, my lady.” Hysan leans a few microscopic degrees closer. “It really wasn’t as depressing as it sounds. I was raised by our household robot, Miss Trii.”

  As usual, I’m not sure if Hysan is being serious. “Miss Trii?”

  His eyes lose focus, like he’s staring into the distance of memory. “What a terror she was . . . until I discovered how to disassemble her. Once I reverse-engineered her central processor, life was good.”

  I hold back laughter. “’Nox, Neith, Miss Trii . . . have you ever had any human friends?”

  He lowers his voice and grows serious. “Just you.”

  The urge to laugh disappears as a stronger impulse suffocates our conversation. His eyes travel down my face, and I clear my throat. “A-are we friends?”

  “I hope so,” he says softly, gazing at my lips. “I would hate myself if I’ve done anything to put you off.”

  He’s so close his leaf-green irises alternately swirl like air and harden into stone. I still don’t know what to make of him. “Tell me why you really came to my swearing-in ceremony.”

  His eyes move up from my mouth to meet mine. “I guess I wanted a friend,” he says, a different expression coming over him, one I don’t recognize. “It’s hard, being pushed into a role that defines you before you’ve had a chance to define yourself. I thought you’d understand.”

  It’s only now I realize I’ve been avoiding being alone with him. The last time we spoke privately like this was on the way to Gemini, when he wore a similarly unprotected look on his face. I like it now as much as I did then.

  “Why do you run from me?” he whispers.

  Librans like to be liked, and they’re good at reading faces—after all, every performer wants an engaged audience. But Hysan is so perceptive that at times it borders on clairvoyance. “I’m not running, it’s just . . .”

  “The Taboo?” For the first time, Hysan’s face looks fully naked. There’s no centaur smile or cocky expression for him to hide behind. He’s . . . vulnerable. In a lower voice, he asks, “Or Mathias?”

  I shake my head. “It’s . . . me.” I’m not even sure what I mean. Some days, I wake up believing I can do this . . . and other days, I still think of myself as that lonely girl in the solarium. Hysan slides my chin up with his hand, tilting my face so I’ll meet his gaze.

  At that exact moment, Mathias comes to my door. When he sees Hysan touching me, color drains from his features, and he marches away.

  Caasy pokes his head in right after. “Breakfast, anyone?” He looks Hysan and me over, a mean smile stretching the length of his face.

  “Mathias, wait!” I push past Caasy into the hall. “We weren’t doing anything.”

  Mathias whirls around. His face is a savage white mask, and I flinch backward. “Have you forgotten the Taboo?” he thunders. “You’re a Guardian. Sex between Guardians is forbidden.”

  Hearing the word sex slung out like that by Mathias embarrasses me. I don’t like that he assumes he gets a say in every part of my life, and I hate feeling constantly judged by him. “We weren’t . . . it was nothing like that.”

  He glowers at me. “Remember who you are.”

  Who I am. A week ago, I was an Academy Acolyte, and the only variable in my future was my admissions decision from Zodai University.

  Mathias was made for this. Being a Zodai runs in his blood. He’s put so much effort into his training that he graduated first in his class at the university. He was recruited into the Royal Guard at twenty-one. He knows who he is.

  But I feel like Hysan. Before I even had a chance to figure myself out, the stars did it for me. My life is a speeding train I’m constantly racing to catch.

  “I’m not sure who I am, Mathias,” I say finally.

  “Then let me help you.” His midnight-blue eyes harden into steel. “He’s forbidden, and I’m too old.”

  22

  WE’RE APPROACHING VIRGO, and I’m locked in my cabin, mortified. I don’t see how I can face Mathias or Hysan ever again.

  It’s only when I remind myself that my people have just suffered the worst disaster in Zodiac history and another House may be assaulted any minute that I snap out of my self-indulgent bad mood and leave the room. Fair or not, I don’t get to be a girl who mopes about boys.

  As I approach the front of the ship, Mathias and Hysan are shouting at each other from opposite sides of the nose, while Caasy’s hanging out in the middle, sucking a grape-colored snack from a squeeze-tube, his tunnel eyes large and entranced. When I enter, they fall silent.

  “There you are, oh divine one.” Caasy ogles me in an exaggerated impression of a lovesick schoolboy. “Your heavenly splendor is blinding me, your magnificent, Motherly holiness.”

  Hysan and Mathias busy themselves with different screens. They set the ship down at the far end of the busy Virgo spaceport, and because we’re veiled, no one bothers us.

  Hysan’s changed into a muted black court suit. “Time to dematerialize,” he says, touching his collar.

  Mathias frowns. “Why do we need veils here?”

  “Do they shield us from the Psy?” I ask Hysan hopefully.

  “Unfortunately, no.” He lifts one shoulder. “These collars refract light. They make us invisible, nothing more.”

  “In that case, I won’t be needing mine.” Mathias yanks off his collar and drops it on the console.

  I lay mine down, too. Partly because I don’t like the secrecy, but mostly to make up with Mathias. Hysan just arches an eyebrow and lays his collar beside mine.

  Caasy mutters, “I must update my scoreboard when we return.” I shoot him a death glare so he’ll can it before we get to Moira. He smiles penitently, pretending to get the message.

  House Virgo’s largest planet is Tethys, a massive green-and-brown sphere with much stronger gravity than I’m used to. Just walking across the
landing pad is strenuous. I feel like I’m carrying another person on my back. If the atmosphere weren’t so highly oxygenated, I’d be gasping for breath.

  As soon as we announce ourselves to the Guards and they get word to Moira, she sends out an unmanned hover-car to take us to her capital city. Sleek burnished gold, bearing the green peridot glyph of House Virgo, the self-guided car is more magnificent than any vehicle I’ve ever seen on Cancer.

  As we’re getting in, Hysan says, “She’s converted her lesser planets and moons for agriculture. Every House in the galaxy buys Virgo grain.”

  “Speaking of food,” interjects Caasy, “we’re running low. You go on ahead. I’ll stay here and check the shops in the spaceport.”

  “You don’t want to visit Moira?” I ask, surprised.

  “A fine chef prefers to choose his own ingredients.” He gives me a cagey smile. “Go on, please. Moira and I are not the best of friends.”

  He snaps a mock salute, then trundles off. He looks so innocent, a tawny cherub with bouncing curls. I wonder what he’s really up to.

  The rest of us climb in, and Mathias scans the interior of the car for surveillance devices. Hysan cracks a scornful smirk. “You really don’t have to do that.”

  Mathias ignores him. “Center your mind, Rho. Say your meditation chant.”

  “Just leave her alone. She’ll be perfect.” Hysan folds his arms and keeps smiling.

  Our car whisks out of the spaceport into rolling green fields. I’ve never seen this much tall grass in my life. So much solid land, it doesn’t seem real. Our hover-car skims over the greenery, and I twist to look around. The fields stretch to every horizon.

  “Where’s the city?” I ask. Mathias is also craning and searching.

  “It isn’t far,” says Hysan. “We’re almost there.”

  Ahead, a light glints in the sky, then disappears. Odd. I stare in that direction and see another flash. “Was that an aircraft?”

  Right in front of us, a wide swath of sky begins to flash and spark, from the ground all the way up to the clouds. Then our car runs straight into it.

  For a moment, we seem to be sliding through the heart of a diamond.

  Hysan grins at our reactions. “The city wall. Its mirage technology masks Moira’s capital from uninvited guests. Without a proper key, it’s impenetrable.”

  The mirage wall reminds me of Hysan’s veil collars, and I wonder if he borrowed the technology from Moira.

  As we cross out the other side, Mathias spins in his seat to keep scanning the wall, but my eyes are only for the city. It’s built like a needle shooting into the sky. “It looks like sterling silver,” I say.

  “Osmium-iridium alloy,” says Hysan. “One of the most durable metals in the galaxy. Moira designs her cities to leave maximum acreage for growing grain.”

  With a whoosh, our car begins to rise up the face of the needle, and all three of us move to the right side for a better view. The needle is so massive, it fills our window.

  We ascend past a series of wide platforms, cantilevered out like leaves. They’re parking lots for hover-cars. We don’t stop, though. We’re still rising, and when I look down, the distance thrills me. Up here, the needle tapers to a point at the top, and I can see the shining gold capstone at the very peak, crowned by Virgo’s green peridot glyph, an emblem of connected lines representing the Triple Virgin.

  We soar to the highest level, just under the capstone, where a circular port slides open, rimmed in beacon lights. No one’s here to meet us, but Hysan opens the car door. “This is our stop. This private port leads directly into Moira’s compound.”

  As soon as we step out, monitoring devices swivel from the eaves to scan us. Again the extra gravity weighs me down as we trudge through a set of sliding metal doors into a vestibule where ultraviolet spotlights rove over our bodies. “Decontamination,” Hysan tells us. “Moira does all she can to protect her genetically modified wheat.”

  “Free shower and laundry in one,” I say with a nervous laugh.

  Once we’re properly sanitized, we step into a long, narrow corridor lined with giant wallscreens. Holographic films balloon out from them, filling the hallway with soft, flickering color, and the competing voiceovers blend like babbling water. The overall effect is relaxing.

  Slumping under my own weight, I walk through the bubbles of moving light, watching reports about weather, crop insurance, soil amendments, and off-world pests. Hysan hurries on through the next pair of doors, but I stop to watch a slow-motion capture of a swelling wheat bud. Its fine, silky threads wave like antennae.

  Just as I pass the last giant screen, I glimpse my own face in the news and almost trip. My picture’s floating beside the classic Capricorn depiction of a starving Ophiuchus caught in the fat coils of a snake.

  The image cuts to a crowd of teenagers in Acolyte uniforms holding up posters at some kind of rally. Before I can make out what’s happening, the newsfeed shifts to a revolt of immigrant Scorp workers on a Sagittarian moon.

  Mathias and Hysan are waiting up ahead, so I shake off the picture and hurry to catch up. Whether or not Nishi’s message is being taken seriously, at least she’s channeling attention to our cause. Ophiuchus can’t possibly like the spotlight, even if it hasn’t officially found him yet.

  Together, the three of us enter a gilded antechamber where twenty gray-haired courtiers stand in a formal receiving line. “Your welcoming committee,” says Hysan.

  “Don’t let them scare you,” whispers Mathias. “You were born for this, Rho.”

  I lock eyes with him, surprised to find in their blue depths that he really means it. Bolstered by Mathias’s confidence, I step forward. Up close, the grim courtiers look like ordinary executives in their dark robes and tasseled caps. Olive-skinned with iron-gray hair, they have eyes the color of moss. All three men’s mustaches are waxed into exaggerated curlicues at the ends, and one of the women has chartreuse freckles. They wear numerous rings on their fingers, ears, and eyebrows.

  They bow as we approach, touching their hearts: a Virgo sign of friendship. My friends and I return the bow to exactly the same degree, but this ceremonial homage doesn’t feel natural. I just want to touch hands and get on with it.

  “Holy Mother Rhoma, you have our deepest sympathy for your troubles.” The courtier with the largest tassel on his cap makes a complicated gesture, flaring the wide sleeves of his robe before offering me the hand touch. “Empress Moira has foreseen your arrival. Please be concise when you speak with her. She has little time today.”

  I nod, feeling more nervous than ever. The man’s eyebrow ring flashes green. “The empress will receive you now. Your companions may wait here.”

  “But . . . they’re my Advisors. I want them with me.”

  The head courtier bows again. “What need is there for Advisors when Guardians meet as friends?”

  Hysan nudges my arm and whispers, “Moira sets the rules here.”

  Mathias darts forward. “I’m not leaving you.”

  An inner door slides open, and an attendant beckons me in. My knees feel weak. I glance back and forth between sunny Hysan and brooding Mathias. Then I smile at Mathias. “You said I was born for this.”

  With a quiet frown, he steps back, and I follow the attendant into Moira’s chambers. The Virgo court is not the opulent palace I expected. It’s more like the corporate headquarters of a major corporation.

  The attendant shows me into a triangular conference room containing a small black table and six green chairs. One wall is solid glass, and when I look out, Moira’s landscape spreads below like an ocean of grain.

  “I suppose you didn’t come for the view.” I spin to see the speaker.

  The woman who’s entered behind me busies herself with a Perfectionary in her hands and won’t meet my eyes. She wears a simple gray tunic and no ornament save the emerald pins
in her hair. She’s even smaller than me, and wizened. “Are you Empress Moira?”

  “My schedule’s quite full, so please state your business.” I’ve never seen such wrinkled skin—she looks sun-dried.

  I offer my hand for a touch, but she won’t look up from her Perfectionary—the Virgos’ Wave. Virgos are extremely organized, diligent, and anal-retentive. They all carry around a booklike digital device they rarely part with—it holds their schedules, notes, photographs, diary entries, everything that has any value to them—and it even has an opening for inserting samples of soil, seeds, fertilizers, etc., for analysis.

  “I’m Guardian Rho from Cancer.”

  “Obviously.” She doesn’t waste words. Or facial expressions.

  “Empress Moira, I’ve come to warn you. Our moon collision—someone deliberately set it off with a Psy weapon. Your House may be next.”

  At last, she looks up. She eyes me closely as we trade the hand touch. Then she sits at the table and continues browsing her Perfectionary. “Go on.”

  I sit down, too, and I tell her my theory that all the recent disasters have been triggered by Psy attacks from Ophiuchus.

  I can’t believe it’s possible, but Moira becomes even more emotionless. “You speak of myth. The Zodiac holds only twelve Houses.”

  “Well, that’s what I thought, too.” Once again, I narrate my account of Ophiuchus, and even I see how meager the evidence sounds. I describe how the Dark Matter thickened around Virgo, how the entire region around her House went black, but all I have are words, ordinary words. If only I could make Moira feel the terror that shook my bones when Ochus appeared in my Ephemeris.

  “He tried to kill me. He wants to silence me.” I’m practically wringing my hands.

  Moira keeps her eyes on her Perfectionary. When I finish my tale, she says, “We’ve seen your Sagittarian comrade’s warnings of doom in the news. Such alarmist talk may appeal to the young, but not to me. And when I learned Hysan Dax escorted you here, I thought perhaps there was more to your story—he usually has more sense than this.”

  I blink. Alarmist talk?