EL PODER DE UNA CANCIÓN

 EL PODER DE UNA CANCIÓN

un song Jaimienne para el proyecto #CuantoPudoHaberSido

A través de las ventanas escarchadas del hostal, veo caer la nieve en la hierba muerta. Copos prístinos y suaves descienden uno tras otro describiendo espirales. En Tarth, mi isla natal, nunca hay inviernos blancos. Pero sí hay tormentas eléctricas, como la que describe la canción del hilo musical al ritmo de la cual caen los copos uno tras otros: 

I remember
how the darkness doubled
I recall
Lightning struck itself

I was listening
listening to the rain
I was hearing
hearing something else

Estaba escuchando la lluvia y oyendo algo completamente diferente cuando la oscuridad cayó sobre mí. La lluvia contra las ventanas y la frase "me han dado un positivo." Renly Baratheon tenía los días contados, e iba a apurar lo que le quedaba de vida a sorbos y a tragos. Tras hablar de su positivo, abrazó a Loras Tyrell con todas sus fuerzas, los dos entrelazados mientras les observaba. No podía forzar a quien amaba a corresponderme; de su lado era simple amistad y si prefería los besos y los piropos de otro chico, yo no iba a impedírselo porque este es un mundo libre. Sería una transfusión lo que hizo que el hilo de su vida empezara a deshilacharse a los veintitantos. Es una suerte que no esté sonando nada de Queen - el grupo por el que Renly cambió a Village People y a Mónica Naranjo cuando empezó su dificultad para respirar. En particular escuchaba mucho "Show Must Go On," mientras fuera llovía sobre los parterres de Altojardín y Loras le prometía que no traicionaría su memoria, también para que no pudiera contagiar a otros. Si yo fuera un Étienne en vez de una Brienne, nunca desafiaría aquel juramento. Los ojos de Renly, como los míos, del color azul del curaçao. Es una suerte que no tengamos ni música de Queen ni ese licor azul a mano. Pensar en ellos, en el dolor de perder a un ser tan querido, me hace llevarme la absenta a los labios. Frida decía que ahogar las penas no vale, porque les crecen alas y aprenden a volar. El licor de los poetas muertos, tan verde verde verde como tus ojos... Tu voz con ese acento y ese tono de tenor heroico (no lírico como los de Renly y Loras). Las luces del cuarto tan verdes como la absenta que apuramos y como tus iris... La absenta me duerme la boca y la garganta y crea un calor dentro del pecho a la altura del corazón...

Soy el invierno contra tu primavera. Tú más joven e inocente y con menos experiencia. Y yo un exoficial apuesto y atractivo bajo la capa de mugre y la barba de tres días que me dan cara de guerrillero, con el brazo derecho inerte como el de un muñeco de trapo. Aún estoy pálido tras la amputación a la altura del codo que me ha vuelto zurdo a la fuerza, a mí que era zurdo de nacimiento hasta que mi señor padre y mis maestros me ataron ese brazo a la espalda porque "un señorito de tal rango no ha de inclinarse a la izquierda". Envidiaba a mi gemela, mi otra mitad, porque Cersei misma era diestra y no necesitaba esa tortura. Y ahora fijo que mi augusta familia me ha dado a mí, el heredero varón, por muerto tras desaparecer en combate. 

The kiss of death, the embrace of life
Ooh, there I stand 'neath the Marquee Moon
Hesitating

Con mi mano diestra han desaparecido mi pasado, mi patria y mi bandera; ya no tengo señor padre ni señora hermana ni apellido; he dejado de ser un Lannister, mi viejo ser ha muerto con la amputación. Este guerrillero manco y zurdo es Jaime a secas. Cuando la fiebre con su sed y su taquicardia se apoderaron de mí, al dolerme la diestra fantasma inexistente (de hecho, a veces siento una puñalada aún), al mirarme en el espejo y pienso en que he roto con el pasado completamente, fue el beso de la muerte. Cuando descubro constelaciones en las pecas de tus mejillas, luminarias en tus ojos azules como la nieve ahora en la tarde, un tono solemne en tu voz de contralto, es el abrazo de la vida. Observo cómo el azucarillo se deshace en agua y absenta, llenando de galaxias un licor tan verde como mis ojos (intento no pensar en los iris de mis seres queridos) antes de que pase desde el vaso al pecho.

El beso de la muerte fue antes de perder a Renly, cuando le oí hablar de su positivo entre el repiqueteo de la lluvia contra los cristales. El abrazo de la vida viene ahora, el color de tus ojos es el de la absenta que sorbo y el de las luces del techo, tu brazo derecho en la manga vacía colgando como el de un muñeco de trapo y viendo que, a pesar de que bebes estando convaleciente, sigues fuera de peligro. No te importa nada empinar el codo porque has sufrido mucho más que una servidora.

Todo mi mundo se está volviendo verde verde verde, el licor de absenta que estoy apurando y las luces en el techo de este local y tus ojos que brillan como el trago de anís y ajenjo que ahora te llevas a los labios bajo unos reflectores que hacen aparecer reflejos de peridoto en el oro de tus cabellos y en las estrellas de coronel del cuello y las charreteras de tu uniforme. Je ne sais quoi tiene esta escena y me parece que es la suma de todos estos factores, más el poder de la letra de la canción que suena de fondo:

I was listening
listening to the rain
I was hearing
hearing something else

Ya he echado mi suerte al respecto sobre lo que sucedería esa noche, lo que haría una servidora por ti. Y eso que no tengo planes más allá de esta cena; es un misterio que la oscuridad guarda en su seno envuelto como un regalo sorpresa en negro y azul Prusia tachonado de estrellas y de galaxias, pero con un reflejo verde absenta inconfundible. Dejas el chupito vacío sobre la mesa, después de que te haya visto moverse la tráquea a la par que lo apurabas de un trago largo. "La absenta se sube a la cabeza," pienso mientras tus ojos se llenan de destellos verdes, de lágrimas que intentas reprimir.

Los hombres no lloran, ni ebrios ni sobrios, ni despiertos ni en sueños. Aún así mi patosa siniestra coge la servilleta y me seca a duras penas las lágrimas que la intensidad del trago ha despertado. Puede que haya perdido mi pasado y mi identidad, y tenga que reinventarme, pero mi dignidad es intocable. Lo único que me queda de mis viejas raíces son unos treinta euros que recibí el día de la despedida, por caridad, y no van a durar mucho. Treinta piezas de dinero siempre han sido el precio de la traición, y el sino sí que me ha apuñalado por la espalda úlitmamente - no puedo mantener ahorrando esa suma todo el rato, ya que podrían robármela. Puestos a perder la cabeza con las revoluciones de la vida, como si mi herida siguiera infectada y yo en shock séptico, como si fuera mi último día en la Tierra, nuestro último día de vida (ya estés viva o muerta). ¿Camarero? Otra absenta, la paga ella, la rubia alta y pecosa desgarbada con el vestido rosa de volantes que parece una peonía, pero también un botellín de Moët Chandon, a la señorita la invita monsieur, y escancie usted la mitad en su copa y la mitad en la mía. Champán del más valioso sobre la absenta, y nuestras cabezas se irán volando como globos de colores (uno verde y otro celeste) por el oscuro cielo nocturno y tal vez hasta al espacio sideral.

Apenas ha llegado el camarero trajeado cual pingüino con el botellín de champán, y apenas me he recuperado de tu comentario inter pócula sobre mi vestido, tu mano izquierda arrebata el valioso Moët a la par que le entregas un billete azul y otro rojo al camarero y le susurras algo sobre el frasco de absenta. De repente, noto algo entre mis callosos dedos y, al mirarlo, veo que se trata de un botellín verde oscuro, a una nueva luz bajo reflectores verdes, con la parte de arriba recubierta de pan de oro con destellos verdosos - ¡igual que tu pelo! Y escucho al oído, sobre las notas del hilo musical, una voz de tenor familiar que me pregunta: ¿Harías los honores de descorchar y de escanciar?

Nunca antes he descorchado una botella de champán y menos de un viñedo tan caro, siendo de clase media, pero para todo hay una primera vez. Qualsevol nit pot sortir el sol, y es probable que sea esta la última velada de mis días de vino y rosas antes de que lleguen la resaca y las espinas. Tú ya te has echado al coleto la experiencia que yo estoy absorbiendo entre licores y canciones vintage. Arranco con toda la suavidad que puedo el papel dorado y giro el alambre que mantiene el corcho en su lugar: se deja desprender muy fácilmente. Ahora viene lo complicado, disparar el cañón de corcho. Con la mano izquierda en torno al cuello del botellín y la derecha sacando el corcho; ya veo que él ya no posee esta capacidad y por eso me ha confiado una tarea tan honrosa y aún así tan complicada. De repente... ¡¡POP!! El tapón te golpea en la frente y el géiser de líquido espumoso te entra en la boca abierta de sorpresa. Si ya la absenta se sube a la cabeza, acabo de coronar tu embriaguez con este Moët, aunque por accidente. Mirando que aún queda la mitad del champán, escancio en mi propia copa justo cuando el camarero vuelve con el frasco de absenta. De fondo, te oigo tragar a la par que el champán se vierte en mi copa y suena de fondo:

And I ask him how he don't go mad

He said, "look here, junior, don't you be so happy,
and for heaven's sake, don't you be so sad"

El champán ingerido por accidente me cosquillea el interior de la boca, la garganta, por detrás del corazón. Ya falta poco para que yo pierda el norte por completo. Tenía pensado brindar contigo por esta velada y por nuestro encuentro, pero el brindis nos ha salido magníficamente rana. Levantas tu copa en solitario, esperando que yo brinde con la copa vacía, y las entrechocamos, brindando por nuestro último día con tu voz de contralto, aunque yo no dé más que un sorbo de aire. La espuma del champán multiplica las constelaciones de pecas de tu rostro, y los destellos de tus ojos azules como lagos en pleno verano: me pregunto si la cara de una persona puede contener todo el universo. 

Y me echo a reír. La risa brota de mi interior sin filtros, espoleada hacia afuera por las burbujas del trago apurado. Siento cómo toda esa espuma asciende desde mis entrañas de vuelta, hasta la misma coronilla. Tal vez me esté saliendo un halo. Siento el brazo izquierdo tan inexistente como el derecho. De repente, no puedo contenerme, es como si una fuerza mayor estuviera moviendo mis hilos a la par que mi única mano busca debajo de los volantes rosados y esponjosos de tu falda.

Está rojo como una langosta, y claramente privado de todas sus inhibiciones. Si no tuviera esos ojos verde absenta como extraterrestres de ciencia ficción mirándome tan fijamente, y si no estuviéramos en un local público, le atizaría la mano. Pero se lo dejo hacer, a la par que un cosquilleo inesperado recorre mi espina dorsal y siento un calor dentro del pecho que no se debe al champán que estoy sorbiendo meticulosamente ni a la absenta a la que el espumante se une dentro de mí. Es una sensación que ni siquiera Renly Baratheon pudo haberme despertado.

Jaime Lannister... ¿me traicionarías por el precio de esta velada?

Nunca. Lo digo con la mano siniestra, a falta de la diestra, sobre el corazón, que siento que le crecen alas. Aún no se me ha nublado la vista, pero ya empiezo a entrar en calor y nunca me he sentido tan feliz, ni siquiera con Cersei chupándome la piruleta. Y tú, Brienne de Tarth... ¿antes de cantar los gallos, me negarías tres veces?

Yo tampoco. Mi gesto de la mano en el corazón refleja el suyo como un espejo, izquierda frente a derecha. Miro en torno a mí: están los Bolton, marido y mujer, el chavo ese de la perilla... cuento y veo que somos trece en torno a la misma mesa.

¡Pues anda que somos trece! Lo cual significa que pronto uno de nosotros morirá por los pecados de todos los demás. 

And I ask him how he don't go mad

He said, "look here, junior, don't you be so happy,
and for heaven's sake, don't you be so sad"

Al fin entiendo que no hay que alegrarse ni entristecerse en exceso...

... e intento entrar en razón antes de que la embriaguez me la arrebate por completo.

The kiss of death, the embrace of life

Es por tu voz de contralto y tus ojos de lago, por tu rostro cargado de constelaciones y por el champán que me has disparado y que me ha hecho perder la cabeza aún sin querer, y por la melodía de esta canción... que esta noche de lunes y 12 a martes y 13, moriría encantado por tus pecados. Róbame el beso de la muerte.

Es por tu voz de tenor y tus ojos de peridoto, por la absenta que hemos ingerido que es del mismo color que esos iris e igual de embriagadora, por tus rizos de oro viejo y por la letra de esta canción... que esta noche de lunes y 12 a martes y 13, sería un honor morir por tus ofensas. Envuélveme en el abrazo de la vida.

INSPIRATION INK - from the novel STEPSISTER

Inspiration was pale gold, made from black tea mixed with cocoa, a pinch of dirt from a poet's grave, and four drops of a lunatic's tears left to ferment in the light of a full moon.

"Inspiración", que era de un dorado pálido, obtenida a partir de té negro mezclado con cacao, una pizca de tierra de la tumba de un poeta y cuatro gotas de las lágrimas de un lunático, que después se habían dejado fermentar a la luz de la luna llena. (Translation by Pilar Ramírez Tello)


There are various inks that the Fates use to draw and write the lives of mortal people on the maps of each person's life, in the universe of this novel (penned by the author of the Waterfire Saga) -- and of course this one was and is my very own personal favourite (if you wonder why there is a Spanish translation, the novel has just been released by RBA Juvenil here in Spain!!).

If you're missing a certain ingredient that is green and strong, I have even written a poem that explains the reason why in verse:

No absinthe in the recipe
for Inspiration ink; 
'twas meant to write one's destiny
and not for one to drink.

AQUARIUS STAR SYSTEM - ROMINA RUSSELL

AQUARIUS

D

ATES 

January, 20 – February, 18

HOUSE 

11

WORD FOR GUARDIAN   

Supreme Guardian

WORD FOR ZODAI  

Elder

COLOUR  

Aqua

ELEMENT  

Air

STRENGTH  

Philosophy

THE CONSTELLATION

The Water Bearer constellation has three planets, named after the ordinal numbers in Latin, each with its own moon. The atmospheres of all three planets are in perfect harmony, so Aquarians live on every surface available to them. Each planet is home to two Clans.

THE PEOPLE, PERSONALITY

House Aquarius brings Philosophy to the Zodiac. Its people are introspective, intelligent, inquisitive, humanitarian, and true trailblazers, though sometimes their determination to design a better world can make them seem excessively eccentric, radical, and revolutionary to outsiders. At heart, Aquarians are full of hope for tomorrow, and their minds are fountains of ideas for how to create a more interconnected world.

The House’s people are divided into Six Clans: the Nightwing (their glyph is an owl, they’re the House’s star readers), the Literati (their glyph is a book, they’re the House’s literary scholars and educators), the Fellowship (their glyph is a hand, they’re the House’s social conscience and philanthropists), the Naturalists (their glyph is a tree, they’re the House’s environmentalists), the Visionaries (their glyph is an eye, they’re the House’s creators of a better tomorrow), and finally, the Royal Clan, which is represented by a Crown and is where the House’s Monarchy resides (surprisingly the Aquarius star system is not a republic, but a royal monarchy!!). Primitus houses the Royals and Nightwings; Secundus, the Fellowship and another clan, unknown to canon; and Tertius, the remaining two clans (any headcanons? Mine is that Secundus also houses the Literati, while Tertius houses the Naturalists and Visionaries) I WILL UPDATE AS SOON AS I RECEIVE REPLY FROM ROMINA HERSELF ON FB.

UPDATE: HEADCANON CONFIRMED BY WORD OF ROMINA!! She also appointed me Elder of the Literati Clan (what an honour!!) and I chose my own elder name, much to her acclaim... Here is the interview as it unfurled:

ROMINA -- Primitus: Royal, Nightwing / Secundus: Fellowship, Literati / Tertius: Naturalists, Visionaries

SANDRA -- So the Literati are on Secundus... Thank you very much indeed for clearing this cup-bearer Ravenclaw Literata's doubts!

ROMINA -- Of course!!

You’re very welcome Elder Sandra Elena of Aquarius

SANDRA: if I am an elder I should change my name, eh?

Elder Lorethirst

ROMINA: Oooooh love it!!!

SANDRA: Glad you did so - y buenas noches desde España

ROMINA: Buenas noches, amiga.

THE PEOPLE, PHYSICALLY

Aquarians have narrow faces, ivory skin, and glassy eyes with irises that span every shade of the sky—white, gray, blue, purple, black, yellow, orange, pink, red. The Elders on Aquarius (the House’s Guardian and Zodai from each Clan) lose their birth names when they are sworn in and adopt a new name that’s given to them by their Clan, consisting of a single, personality-embodying word.

THE TECHNOLOGY

Citizens are divided into one of the Six Clans, each represented by a different symbol. All Aquarians carry with them a Philosopher’s Stone, a computer-like device encased in a lead pendant that hangs from a silver chain around their neck. Its design varies according to Clan, and they use it to access holographic data or send messages to others. Clans are connected through a network of Philosopher’s Stones so that at any given moment, an Aquarian can access every member of her Clan at once, transmitting a video feed of what she’s seeing and opening a channel to her Elders’ counsel.

THE GOVERNMENT

House Aquarius is (surprisingly!!) a Royal Monarchy under the rule of the Supreme Guardian who is always a member of the Royal Clan. On Aquarius, being Guardian is a birthright, so lineage is determined by blood. Often, the House’s best star reader will actually be the Guardian’s Senior Advisor and not the Guardian himself.

THE GUARDIAN

Supreme Guardian Gortheaux the Thirty-Third—The youngest Guardian in centuries, he is only six years old, so Supreme Advisor Untara rules in his stead.

THE WEAPON

The Elders of House Aquarius are always unassumingly armed with their Barer ("puño acuariano" is my fanon Spanishb name --- is it the same in canon?): a devastating multi-weapon made of a series of connected rings fitted perfectly to the wearer’s dominant hand, making it a very quick draw. When an Elder makes a fist, metals in the rings convert energy from the atmosphere, emitting brilliant aqua arcs of electricity. The wearer can then either use the Barer as a sword, or mold the energy into the form of a bow that will fire off devastating electric blasts. For hand-to-hand combat situations, the Barer grows a blazing row of electric spikes, turning into a terrifying set of “brass knuckles” that delivers electric jolts every time it connects with an opponent.

9

I WAKE UP WITH MY limbs sprawled across the full length of the loveseat. Picking up my head, I see Mathias in the center of the ship cycling through Yarrot. I stare for a few seconds, noting that something feels different about his movements. The choreography seems off.

I look around for Stan and spot him still sleeping, his body turned toward the window. I wonder how much longer until we land.

“How’d you sleep?” asks Mathias, dropping down beside me and breathing heavily from his workout.

“Good. Sorry if I hogged the bed.”

“I’ve never woken up to an elbow in the face before.”

I avert my gaze to hide my flush, feeling strangely shy around him this morning. Probably because we never concluded our conversation last night. Though I guess the point is we haven’t chosen our ending yet.

“Was that Yarrot?” I ask, pulling up the menu of settings for the bed and bringing the backseat upright.

“Aquarian Yarrot. Pandora taught it to me.”

I nod, trying not to dwell long on the weeks they spent alone on Vitulus when I went to Tierre.

“On Aquarius they use astrogeometry instead of astroalgebra to read the stars—”

“I know,” I say, and I wish I didn’t sound so snippy.

“Geometry carries real importance on House Aquarius. Since Yarrot poses are designed to mimic the twelve constellations, Aquarians are more precise about the shapes, so they perform the movements differently.”

I nod and open my Wave to check messages, but the blue text before me blends into unintelligible shapes. Something about what just happened makes Mathias seem less familiar to me.

After so many years of watching him practice the same Yarrot routine, this change in his approach feels like yet another sign that the old Mathias is gone. And it’s a reminder that I still don’t fully know this new one.

•   •   •

Soon the Water Bearer constellation comes into view. Seeing the Eleventh House makes my nerves tremble in anticipation, as if my blood has been replaced with jittery Psynergy. Like my heart knows I’m close to solving the mystery of Mom.

Aquarius has three inhabited planets—Primitus, Secundus, Tertius—all equidistant. The planets’ atmospheres are amply oxygenated and perfectly pressurized, and a small moon orbits each one. When we’re close to entering Primitus’s atmosphere, one of the flight attendants emerges from the lounge and addresses us from the center of the ship.

“I apologize for this brief interruption,” she says, and Mathias and I shut our Waves in unison. The blue screens floating before us vanish.

“Per protocol, we’re now going to play a pre-recorded message from the leader of the Tomorrow Party, Lionheart Blaze Jansun.” I can tell the flight attendant is Leonine by her wide face, toothy smile, and tattooed eyelids. Each time she blinks, the Lion constellation flickers in her eyes.

When she steps away, the Tomorrow Party’s elegant holographic logo fades on and off over the glass floor, and in my peripheral vision, I spy my brother sitting up.

“Welcome to the Tomorrow Party.”

A handsome holographic Leonine with a mane of blue hair bares his pointy teeth in a broad smile. “Who are we? A group of galactic unionists who believe passionately in our vision for a united Zodiac. We want to reshape our solar system into a place where we can be human beings first and House citizens second.”

Holograms of all twelve constellations encircle him. “I’m Lionheart Blaze Jansun, and before I ask you to join us, I want to tell you a bit about myself. I was born into my House’s Power Pride, but even as a kid, I felt I didn’t belong there. When we turn twelve, Leonines leave home to embark on a walkabout—we spend the next few years rotating through schools throughout our planet’s nine nations. It’s our choice how much time we want to spend in each place, or if we want to try all nine at all. But eventually we’re expected to pledge ourselves to a Pride.”

Blaze passes a hand through his puffy blue locks, and I spy colorful streaks of rainbow highlights hidden in the deeper layers of his hair. “It was in the Leadership Pride where I felt I’d finally found my place. There I learned about Leadership’s prodigal son, the historical figure I was named after—Holy Leader Blazon Logax of the Trinary Axis. I was intrigued by the people of this Pride because they seemed the opposite of the ones I’d grown up with. Rather than prizing their personal interests above others, they prioritized others’ interests above themselves.”

The passion in his voice and his striking straightforwardness make him seem wild and untamable. A true Lion.

“It was there I had the realization that altered my life’s course: A powerful man wants people to dream of him, but a leader wants people to dream of themselves.”

Fire flashes in his russet eyes, and a feral passion infects his voice. “I wasn’t born into the best world for me. I had to leave my first home to find my rightful one. So who’s to say any of us have been born into our true House? How can we know where we belong if we don’t know what we’re missing?”

His words make me think of Ferez and his election to possess eleven technologies over one. And another memory slips in, something Hysan told me on Centaurion—I’ve visited every House of the Zodiac, and I have the overwhelming sensation that not everyone would be happiest where they are. The Leonine, the Capricorn, and the Libran all seem to be saying the same thing: In a universe ruled by fate, our power is in our choices.

“When the Plenum honored Rhoma Grace with the title of Wandering Star, I felt something.” My pulse quickens when I hear my name. “Her strength and passion inspired me to go public with a plan I’d only dreamt of—a plan to build bridges across the Zodiac.

“We are those bridges. The Tomorrow Party is actively searching for young people who want to help us reshape the worlds we’ll inherit tomorrow. And I sincerely hope you will consider joining us.”

The hologram winks out, and moments later, the ship’s automated voice sounds through the intercom. “Please prepare for landing.” As we buckle into our seats, I feel my first flicker of excitement for this new political party. Blaze’s idealism reminds me of Twain and Candela and Ezra and everyone else I met on Centaurion a few months ago, and I’m eager to get involved and feel useful again.

At the memory of that trip, my mind immediately wanders to Hysan. Has he heard of the Tomorrow Party? What does he think of it?

But I force myself to leave those thoughts behind. If Mathias and I have any chance at a future together, I have to let go of Hysan as completely as he’s let go of me.

The wings flap dramatically again as we cross the invisible barrier into Primitus’s gravity, and then I feel the full weight of my body as the planet’s colored contours swell through the floor’s glass window. House Aquarius is a Royal Monarchy under the rule of the Supreme Guardian; Guardianship is a birthright here, so lineage is determined by blood. Since Supreme Guardian Gortheaux the Thirty-Third is only six years old, his Senior Advisor Untara—the House’s best seer—rules in his stead.

Aquarius is made up of six Clans, two on each planet: the Nightwing Clan consists of the House’s star readers (like Pandora and Mallie from Helios’s Halo); the Literati, scholars and educators; the Fellowship, socially conscious activists and philanthropists; the Naturalists, environmentalists; the Visionaries, architects of tomorrow; and, finally, the Royal Clan, where the House’s ruling Monarchy resides. Since Primitus houses both the Royal and Nightwing Clans, I’m hoping we’ll get to see the royal palace. It’s one of the Four Marvels of the Zodiac. The castle is supposedly so massive that on a clear day its silhouette can be seen from anywhere in the Royal Kingdom.

The ship lands on a grassy hilltop beneath an overcast sky, and the Leonine attendants assure us they’ll deliver our bags to the Party’s headquarters. Before disembarking, the three of us change into our Cancrian blue suits.

I deplane first and immediately wish I’d brought a thicker coat. I’ve never been this far from the sun before. The Eleventh House’s orbit is farther out from Helios than any world I’ve visited—its three moons are even known for their famous ski spas.

I have just enough time to spot a wooden stable on the horizon when Nishi’s arms engulf me, and we spin around and around on the field, clasped close together and laughing giddily into each other’s ears. When we stop laughing, we tighten our holds, and I know we’re both fighting tears.

When we pull apart, I get my first good look at my best friend, and I’m startled by how different she seems.

She’s wearing a white levlan coat that probably cost three times as much as the red suit she wore to the Lunar Quadract, and a pair of brilliant gemstones dangle from each of her earlobes, so bright they look like stars. Nishi’s always had expensive taste, but like me, she’s generally more comfortable in casual clothes. Seeing her so uncharacteristically made up reminds me of my public appearances as Guardian, when I wasn’t dressing up for me but for my cause.

While she greets Stan and Mathias, I notice a couple of silver-haired Aquarian men approaching us, and behind them trails a rainbow of horses—gray, aqua, pink, green. As the enormous creatures clomp closer, the aqua-colored steed steers away from the group to shake its head of hair, and a pair of gigantic, feathery wings stretch skyward from its sides.

“What are those?” asks Stan, and for the first time in too long, there’s no shadow in his voice.

“Pegazi,” says Nishi. “Members of the Royal Clan ride them to get around.”

The pink horse trots up to Nishi, like it recognizes her, and the Aquarian men introduce Stan and Mathias to the green and gray Pegazi. I stare at the aqua creature that’s still standing apart from us.

“That’s Candor,” says one of the men after he’s helped Mathias onto the gray steed, referring to the aqua horse. “She’s the head of her herd, so only a leader may ride her.”

I consider mentioning that my Wandering Star role doesn’t come with any actual power, but the silver-haired man is already clicking at Candor to call her over. She doesn’t budge.

“Looks like she expects us to come to her.” He grins at me, and I notice two of his teeth are missing. I really hope it wasn’t Candor’s hoof that knocked them out.

“It’s the Pegazi’s land, so I think we ought to heed her wishes,” he says genially. “After all, the decision to bond must be mutual. She has to accept you.”

I follow him over to the winged horse, and she looks down at me through onyx eyes; the longer I stare into them, the more colors I see within their depths. They remind me of the black opal Talisman.

“What do you mean it’s the Pegazi’s land?” I ask, still studying Candor’s eyes.

“History tells us that when humans colonized Primitus, the Pegazi already inhabited the planet’s northern hemisphere. To avoid disturbing their way of life, our ancestors designed the Royal Kingdom around them, and over the centuries the Pegazi grew curious about us and began befriending people, eventually learning our language.”

I whip my face to the Aquarian, expecting to find he’s joking, but he looks serious. “She can—understand us?” I ask incredulously.

Candor whinnies and bows low, and the man exclaims, “She’s accepted you!”

My stomach is in knots as I take the hand he holds out to me and swing a leg around Candor’s back. “There’s a ridge in her spine that can cradle you,” says the Aquarian, gesturing for me to slide up. As I edge along the Pegazi’s smooth skin, I feel myself drop into a slight crest in the brackets of her back.

“Once you’re bonded, it’s for life,” he says reverently. “A Pegazi never forgets a soul. She’ll sense your presence any time you enter the Royal Kingdom.”

“That’s—unbelievable.”

Looking down at him from high up on Candor’s back, it occurs to me that though he seems to be some kind of shepherd for the Pegazi, the man doesn’t touch the creatures, nor does he seem to have any control over them.

Without warning Candor clomps forward to join the others, and I turn around to wave to the Aquarian. “Thank you!”

The other Pegazi have formed a line to greet us, like soldiers saluting their captain, and as Candor surveys the winged horses, I gaze out at my friends. “Loosen up, Rho!” calls Nishi. “Try having fun!”

Candor’s wings whoosh out suddenly, and the whole world starts shaking as she gallops ahead, and it’s like going from zero to lightspeed in a single breath. I hang tight to her neck as her wings flap at my sides, blowing frosty air in my face, and I hear the other horses’ hooves echoing behind us.

We speed up as we near the cliff’s edge, and I shriek as we leap off the hilltop. Then she straightens her wings, and we soar into the cloudy sky.

The wind whipping at my face would have frozen me by now if not for the Pegazi’s body heat; the warmth emanating from her hide combats the cold and makes the whole experience rather . . . delightful.

I look down as we fly over a vast valley of widely spaced family estates. The enormous homes sprawl along one side of a clear turquoise lake, and on its other side is a Pegazi habitat boasting sheltered shacks with barrels of hay and feather blankets. We rise higher as we crest a steep hill, and then a forest emerges, swallowing the landscape in shades and textures of green, until the tapestry of trees is cut off by the roaring blue ocean.

After a while, my neck starts to cramp, so I look up.

And I suck in a shocked breath.

Looming large over the gray horizon and hovering high above the Royal Kingdom . . . is a castle in the clouds.

10

A MAJESTIC, MULTI-TOWERED PALACE SITSin the sky, covered with hundreds of waterfalls cascading down its walls.

I remember from Mom’s lessons that the castle isn’t really floating, not like Libra’s flying cities; it’s actually propped up on invisible ice that gets harvested from Primitus’s moon. The ice is cold enough that it can’t melt, and it’s been holding up the castle since the Zodiac’s earthling settlers originally built it millennia ago.

Candor gallops along the cottony clouds, which are actually swirls of frosty steam rolling along the ice’s top layer. Since its surface is frigid enough to burn a person’s skin off, the ice is buried beneath a bulky blanket of sand.

While I would love to see the castle, I can’t help but wonder why we’re headed there now, when we should be on our way to the Tomorrow Party’s headquarters.

The Pegazi come to a halt in a waterfall plaza by the palace entrance, and the sound of rushing water echoes through the open space. All around us, Aquarian dignitaries decked in heavy layers of flamboyant fabrics go about their day, ostentatious Philosopher’s Stones swinging from their necks. They have narrow faces, ivory skin, and glassy eyes with irises that span every shade of sky—black, gray, purple, blue, red, pink, orange, yellow.

A valet in a velvet top hat offers me a hand, and Candor bows low to let me slide off. But first I whisper in her ear, “That was stellar. Thanks, Candor. And, um, thank you for bonding with me.”

My boots land on the sandy ground, and I head over to Nishi, who has climbed off her pink Pegazi. “What are we doing at the royal palace?” I ask.

“Aquarius was the first House—after Leo—to support the Tomorrow Party, so Blaze reached out to the Monarchy and asked if they would host our launch event. We’ve been here a few weeks, preparing for tomorrow night.”

“What’s tomorrow night?” I ask, as Stan and Mathias join us.

Nishi pauses dramatically, and I can’t help but smile at her theatrics. “A royal ball!”

When none of our reactions match her excitement, she rolls her eyes and mutters to herself, “Cancrians. Anyway, it’s our first formal event, and it’s both a membership drive and a fundraiser. Blaze thought it would look best if a neutral world hosted us, since his own House would seem too biased. Besides, Leo endorses so many causes that their backing isn’t taken all that seriously.”

I feel hot breath on my shoulder, and I look up into Candor’s onyx eyes in wonder. She blinks at me before trotting away, the other Pegazi following her at a respectful distance, and soon they all disappear around the castle’s edge.

“There’s a habitat for them on the palace grounds,” says Nishi. “Now come see inside!”

We follow her through the rows of waterfalls, and I hug my chest as I walk, trying to return some feeling to my numb limbs. The chilly temperature of this world, combined with the coolness of the water cascading around us, is making me miss Candor’s warmth.

The sand beneath our feet turns to stone as we step into a sheltered archway where a group of Elders—Aquarian Zodai—in aqua-colored suits guard the castle doors. They don’t say anything as we pass them, and then we enter a round entrance hall with a ceiling so high I can’t see it.

The sandstone walls around us are punctured with patterns of stained glass windows that are dyed and designed to reflect the Zodiac’s twelve constellations. In place of the Thirteenth House is a massive rendering of Helios, its golden light so bright that it looks like it could be sunny out. I don’t have long to admire the chamber’s grandiosity, or the lavishly dressed courtiers who don cloaks of every color and fabric over their clothes, because Nishi nudges me onward.

We cut through countless common spaces where the textured ceilings are blanketed in arrangements of billowing fabrics, and every roof depicts a different sky—red sunsets, blue dawns, full moons, starry nights, cloudy mornings. Everywhere we turn, colorful, carpet-thick cloths cling to the walls, bearing elaborate mosaic patterns. Each cloth looks like it’s encased within its own current of air, and they all undulate to the stone floor in rolling waves, creating the impression that the artwork is alive.

As we dive through more and more drawing rooms, a few times I glimpse the balcony of an upper level, but I haven’t seen any stairs or lifts yet. It’s impossible to tell how many stories there are because the castle’s layout seems as intricate as the designs dancing along its walls.

Nishi stops walking when we reach a billowing burgundy-and-blue embroidered cloth. She presses her thumb to the wall sensor beside it, and I jump back as the fabric fluffs outward on its own and then ripples into a set of carpeted stairs.

“Aquarius is a stormy world,” says Nishi, when she sees our stupefied faces, “and since the royal palace is so high up, it constantly gets struck by lightning. So Elders learned to harness the electric currents in the air to activate the stored static charges in these fabrics.

“It’s completely safe,” she adds, probably noting the hesitation on my face. “If you get a slight charge from a surface, don’t worry. The worst that’ll happen is you’ll come down with a case of frizzy hair.” She pulls me up the staircase with her. “And in your case, no one will know the difference.”

“Hilarious,” I say, though her joke makes me think of Leyla and Lola and how much I wish they were here.

The steps feel unexpectedly sturdy beneath my feet, and when we reach the top of the staircase, we climb through an opening in the wall that had previously been hidden. We emerge in a brightly lit common area with a billowy ceiling depicting a violet twilight that’s probably exactly how the Aquarian sky looked at the moment of Pandora’s birth. A constellation of stars shines from the fabric in the shape of the Sagittarian Archer.

At least a hundred young people—all donning different House uniforms—gather together on plush, velvet couches, or review holographic screens at sandstone tables, or tune into news reports from the surrounding wallscreens. At least the temperature in here is warmer than the rest of the castle.

“This is the Tomorrow Party,” says Nishi proudly, panning her gaze across the scene before us. “Aquarius loaned us this wing of the castle for our stay. We’ve been planning tomorrow’s event for weeks. There’s so much to do, from handling the invitations and RSVP’s, to figuring out the decorations and catering and entertainment, to preparing our presentation and the night’s agenda, to sorting out everything that happens next, and—I’ll stop,” says Nishi, pausing for breath.

“Wandering Star.”

I turn to see a curvy and tight-clothed Geminin girl with lustrous, tawny skin. “Imogen!” I exclaim, and we run through her elaborately choreographed greeting, which involves knocking knuckles, bumping elbows, and slapping hands.

“Imogen and I joined the Party at around the same time,” says Nishi, “and since we didn’t know anyone else, we stuck together.”

“You have to meet Blaze,” says Imogen, and like last time, the red gloss of her lips is so shiny I can’t look anywhere else. “He’s really excited to meet you.”

“I’d love to meet him.”

“Holy Mother!” I’m startled to hear myself called by that title again, and I turn to see a group of blue-suited Cancrians. As I trade the hand touch with all of them, I learn they’ve come from refugee camps across the Zodiac. Most are survivors from Elara.

“We’re kind of at capacity with rooms right now,” says Nishi, once the wave of Cancrians has receded. “Especially since tomorrow’s guests are also staying at the castle overnight. So if it’s okay, Stan and Mathias”—she looks over my head to the guys—“you’ll share a room, and Rho, you’ll stay with me.”

An irrepressible smile stretches my lips. Nishi notices my reaction and links her arm through mine again.

We cross to an alcove at the far end of the common area where a stone staircase spirals to higher floors. As we climb up, Imogen stops at a door on a lower level to give Stan and Mathias access to their room, but Nishi and I continue all the way to the very top of the tower.

When the staircase ends, Nishi swings the door open to reveal a round room encased in glass windows that looks out over the whole kingdom. If it weren’t overcast out, we could probably see most of Primitus’s northern hemisphere from this high up.

“This place is stunning.” I spot my belongings on a bench at the foot of the bed. “How important are you to this Party?”

I survey the suite, which has its own lavish lavatory and a cordoned-off area that’s probably a Lady’s Lounge—a staple in the homes of Aquarian noblewomen. I remember reading about them at the Academy; through an opening in the gold-tasseled curtains, I can just make out its mirrored walls and velvet vanity.

Nishi perches at the edge of the large, feathery bed, and as she relaxes, her smile starts to falter. I sit beside her in silence, waiting for her to fall apart now that we’re alone and can finally talk in private.

“When I got back to Centaurion,” she begins, sounding more exhausted in here than she did out there, “I was a mess.”

She rakes a slightly shaky hand through her thick hair. “My parents were so worried. They wanted me to apply to a Zodai University campus on another House, but I couldn’t . . . .” Her amber eyes grow weighted down, and I take her hand, certain she’s going to cry.

“Then, three weeks ago, I got a message from Blaze. He told me about this Party and asked if I would take a holographic meeting with him.” She sits up a little straighter and blinks back the sadness with surprising ease. As I watch the heaviness fade from her eyes, I’m reminded of a morning on Elara four years ago.

Our class’s first vacation from the Academy was approaching, and a couple of days before break, Nishi awoke to a recording from her parents saying they would be attending a festival on House Leo and wouldn’t be able to join her at home. I remember watching as she blinked a few times, and I took her hand in mine, the same way I did just now, certain she was going to cry.

But then she turned to me with a smile and simply said, “Guess who’s coming with you to Cancer!”

“When I met Blaze,” continues present-day Nishi, her voice no longer sad, “he said he was a fan of the song I released, Trust in Guardian Rho, and that he thought it was a clever way to spread the word about Ophiuchus. He’d also heard from other Tomorrow Party members about the group we gathered on Centaurion and was impressed by my recruiting skills. He told me the Party was ready to bring its message to the Zodiac, but first he wanted to find the right co-director for the movement—and in particular, he wanted it to be someone from another House.”

She breathes out deeply. “He’s considering me.”

“Helios, Nish!” I hug her tightly, and she squeezes me back. “That’s amazing,” I say into her hair.

“Nothing’s decided yet; there are other candidates,” she cautions me once we’ve pulled away, but her eyes are still bright with hope. “Can you imagine if the Tomorrow Party gains enough traction to be recognized at the Plenum? This could be huge. We could change the way the whole Zodiac operates, and not in the violent way the Axis did, but through leadership and communication. This could be my purpose in life . . . my way of contributing to our cause.”

As her eyes grow bigger, my concern resurfaces. I’m thrilled her brilliance is being recognized, but I’m worried about how involved she’s getting with this Party when I know so little about it. And most worrisome of all is the fact that she has yet to mention Deke.

The flint Tracker on her wrist starts vibrating, and she pulls up a stream of red holographic screens. I decide to check my Wave, too, and a blue message from Crompton appears; he’s invited me to meet with him first thing tomorrow morning.

Even though I know it’s too soon for him to have updates on Mom, I can’t help hoping.

“Is that from Hysan?”

I shoot Nishi a dark look. “I told you already that he and I aren’t speaking—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says quickly. “You just looked happy all of a sudden. Is it Mathias?”

To end the interrogation, I say, “It’s Ambassador Crompton.”

“Crompton?” She scrunches up her nose the way she does when her math doesn’t match up with the Astralator’s measurements. “He’s our guest of honor at tomorrow’s event.”

“Impressive.” As a galactic ambassador, Crompton isn’t just an Aquarian political figurehead but a universal one, so his participation is very promising for the Party.

“It was originally supposed to be the Leader of Leo’s Leadership Pride, but he had some scheduling conflict and bailed on us, so it totally saved us that Crompton agreed to step in.” She tilts her head at me curiously. “Why are you meeting with him?”

“Well . . . there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, and it’s another reason I wanted to come to Aquarius. I think . . . I think my mom might be here.”

Nishi grips my wrists, wringing my veins. “What?”

I describe the visions I saw of her Aquarian face, and then I take out the black seashell from my pocket and explain how Aryll had it. “I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. But being on this House is my best chance to find out.”

“This is incredible, Rho,” whispers Nishi, her eyes still taking up her whole face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks, Nish. Actually I’ve been consulting the stars as often as possible to search for signs of her. Is there a reading room I can visit, or should I just use my Ephemeris in here?”

“I’ll take you. I have to handle some Party stuff anyway.”

Midway down the stairs I stop by Stanton and Mathias’s room. It’s also got a great view, but it’s smaller than ours. “I’m going to do a reading,” I say from the doorway. “What are you two up to?”

“We’re about to explore the castle,” calls Stan from inside the closed lavatory. “Imogen is giving us a quick tour.”

Mathias comes over to where I’m standing. “If you want to talk later and we’re not here, try me on my Ring.”

“Sure,” I say, wanting to say more and yet not sure what I want to say. Then the lavatory door starts to open, and I dash down the stairs to find Nishi.

I watch from a distance as she delegates instructions to various people, then we both head out through the hidden hole in the wall and down the burgundy-and-blue cloth staircase. When we reach the ground, we’ve only walked a few steps when Nishi abruptly ducks down and pulls up on a bronze handle that practically blends in with the sandstone floor.

When the trapdoor opens, I peer into the blackness below. “Seriously?”

Nishi nods. “Good fortune!”

•   •   •

I climb down, and I find myself at one end of a dimly lit, rocky tunnel. I follow it until I reach a cave that flickers with silver lights. I’m in the reading room.

Alone in the cave, I try tuning out everything else so I can access my Center. Sinking into my soul, it’s no longer just the blues of Cancer I call up to steady myself, but a tapestry of faces—Dad, Deke, Stan, Nishi, Mathias, Hysan, Brynda, Rubidum, Twain, Leyla, Lola, Ferez, and so many others.

In a way, my definition of home has shifted. My soul no longer feels anchored to a piece of land or a body of water. It’s now tied to all the people I love, across the Zodiac.

The Abyssthe in my Ring buzzes with the influx of Psynergy, and the map expands around me as I access the astral plane. Asteroids, white dwarfs, red giants, quasars, ethereal clusters of fire—the Zodiac Solar System unfolds before me in a beautiful dance of lights. As I survey the cosmic action, the air starts to tingle with instability. It’s the way the Psy has been for months now.

I picture Mom’s face, and my fingers find the black seashell in my pocket. I turn it over in my hand as I focus, using it like a lucky charm. After a while I survey the Water Bearer constellation, trying to pick up on her Psynergy, to trace her signature in the astral plane. But just like every time, I feel nothing.

I opt for a more generalized read. The Fire Houses—Aries, Sagittarius, Leo—are blazing brighter than ever, but that alarm has been sounding for a while now. I continue scanning our worlds, trying to glean any glimpse of tomorrow, and suddenly a sour and bitter taste settles on my tongue.

The substance spreads until it coats my mouth, and I fall into a coughing fit that burns my throat raw. When the sensation vanishes, I cup my neck, breathing in deeply and slowly.

I have no idea what kind of omen that was.

But it tasted like Death.

11

THE FOLLOWING DAY DAWNS ASdark and dreary as its predecessor. Nishi is still asleep when I wake up, and I lie in bed beside her, thinking of the Death omen that haunted me all night.

I barely spoke during dinner, and when Nishi asked what was wrong, I told her I was just tired, so we went to sleep early. I know I should tell her and the others about the omen, but I don’t want to distract them from everything happening in the Zodiac right now. I’d rather wait and see if it appears again. Maybe I even misread it.

When Nishi wakes up, she orders that breakfast be brought to our room. Once we’ve filled our stomachs with flaky breads and sticky pastries and flavorful jams, we take turns bathing in the room’s luxurious porcelain tub. After a long soak, I slip on a plush aqua robe and join Nishi in the Lady’s Lounge. The mirrored room has a long, velvet vanity lined with a wide array of beauty products. I find a spray that looks to be in the same family as the ones Lola and Leyla used on my hair, and I spritz it on and exhale in relief as my glossy curls begin to dry.

Nishi plops down on a red couch smothered with gray feathery pillows and says, “Prepare to be blown away. Stand where that marker is.”

I step up to a black line drawn on the sandstone floor, and a laser beams out from a pink box hanging on the mirrored wall across from me. It scans my body slowly, and when it’s done, Nishi taps the spot next to her on the couch, and I crash beside her. Exactly where I’d been standing is an identical holographic replica of me.

“Eerie,” I say, staring at myself.

“It’s a closet archiver that uses a holographic simulation system for testing outfits, hairstyles, and makeup,” explains Nishi as she pulls up a menu of options. “Once you’re done and you pick out what you want to wear, the middle mirror opens and your outfit pops out.”

“That’s stellar,” I say, taking over the controls and scrolling through an inventory of the items stored in this closet. We take turns making random selections for my hologram, and each time we assemble an outfit, the program rates our fashion sense by measuring our arrangement against what’s currently in vogue in the trend-setting circles of every world.

In the end Nishi picks out for herself a pair of charcoal pants and a delicate lavender blouse that has a fine dusting of silver powder. These Aquarian fashions are all a bit too lavish for my taste, so I stick with my trusty blue Lodestar suit. Nishi hung it outside our door last night, and this morning we found it in a garment bag, the fabric so fresh and clean that the suit could be brand-new.

As I’m sliding my left arm into the tunic’s long sleeve, I feel Nishi’s gaze land on my scars. I don’t wear a bandage anymore; the markings are now just red carvings covering my skin.

“How are you, Rho?” she asks from her seat at the vanity, where she just finished applying makeup.

“I’m okay.” I perch at the edge of the feathery couch to pull on my boots, and she comes over to sit next to me.

“You sure?” she asks softly.

I shrug, keeping my head bowed while I speak. “At first, I was pretty impressed by how well I could compartmentalize Corinthe’s torture. I just pressed down on the memory every time it floated to the surface of my mind . . . like I used to do with Mom.”

Like I’m doing with Hysan.

I venture a glance at Nishi, realizing that what I’m saying applies to her situation, too. “But just as Ferez warned, the pain surfaced eventually. Nothing stays repressed forever.”

“You’re going to need a coat in case you go outside,” says Nishi suddenly, and she activates the closet archiver again.

“Nish,” I say gently, “how have you been since De—”

“I like this one!” The walls around us whir as she picks out a coat without consulting me, and when the middle mirror slides up, a garment bag pops out on a mechanical arm. Nishi swipes the hanger off its hook and unzips the bag to reveal a simple, deep blue feathery frock. It’s exactly what I would have picked out for myself.

“It’s perfect,” I say, folding it over my arm.

“We should go or you’ll be late.” She grabs her expensive, white levlan coat and leaves the room so quickly that I have to run after her. By the time I reach the common room, she’s already at the other end of the space talking to Imogen.

As I rush to catch up to them, Nishi turns and says, “I’m running late for a meeting, so Imogen will take you to see Ambassador Crompton. But I’ll find you later for lunch.”

There’s no reproach in her voice, and I know she’s just avoiding me to avoid the conversation we almost had. Still, she spares me a quick hug before leaving and whispers in my ear, “I hope there’s good news.”

•   •   •

“How did you come across this group?” I ask Imogen as we’re climbing down the static-powered, carpeted staircase.

“When you left Centaurion to meet the Marad, I volunteered to captain a rescue ship to come after you, but once we knew you were safe, Twin Rubidum took off to Taurus, and the rest of us were left looking for ways to help.” Her spindly heels are so high that I don’t know how she keeps balanced without a banister.

“What about your classes at Zodai University?”

“I can’t go back,” she says definitively.

In her answer, I hear Nishi, Mathias, Stan, and myself. “I understand.”

Her copper-flecked eyes flick back and forth between me and the floor. “Some of my classmates had heard of Blaze, and when I looked into his Party, I liked what I saw and decided to get involved. I was really relieved to find Nishi here, and I figured it was only a matter of time before you came, too.”

When we reach the sandstone ground, we wind through a collection of drawing rooms topped with billowy fabric ceilings and passages draped with undulating carpet-thick cloths. “When will I meet Blaze?”

“Probably today. I know he’s just as eager to meet you.”

The walls wilt around us as we cross into a space that’s thoroughly mired in mist. The cool white steam blurs my vision, until all I can see is Imogen. “What—”

“I know, isn’t it wonderful?” she cuts in. “It’s a thought tunnel!” Through the fog, the shadowy shapes of Aquarians walking near us remind me of Psynergy signatures in the Psy.

“Aquarians like to stroll through here to take what they call a walk in the clouds whenever they need to think deeply about something. They use these tunnels to tune out the world around them and tune into the worlds within them.”

Once the white smoke dissipates, we’ve crossed into another common space, and Imogen strides up to an extra-long, aqua-and-silver cloth. She presses her thumb to the wall sensor to activate the static stored in the fabric, and it fluffs out into a staircase.

“Do you know what Blaze’s goal is with this Party?” I ask as we climb up. “Like, what kind of political plans he’s envisioning?”

“I think Nishi wanted to be the one to tell you that stuff,” says Imogen mysteriously. “She’s an incredible leader. Blaze is really taken with her.”

There are so many steps that we’re quiet the rest of the way up, our breathing becoming labored. When we arrive at the hidden entrance in the wall, Imogen uses her thumbprint to gain us access into a marble passageway. Her spindly heels click-clack on the glossy floor, and at the end of the hall she comes to a halt outside a closed door.

“Thanks for what you did.” Her red lips are so shiny they seem to be absorbing every photon of light.

“What I did?” I ask.

“You proved horrors like physical pain and personal loss and universal hate are survivable . . . as long as you wholeheartedly believe in what you’re doing.”

I don’t quite know what to say; Imogen moved me with her strange and unexpected compliments last time we met, too. “Thanks . . . but conviction alone wasn’t enough,” I caution, thinking of how certain I was that Ochus was my enemy and Aryll my friend. “In fact, sometimes our strongest-held beliefs can become our worst enemies.”

“How so?” she asks.

“I think conviction works against us when what we want to be true becomes more important than what’s true.”

“On Gemini we believe we create our own truths,” she says, her voice growing sultrier as it deepens. “If you can imagine something, it can be done.”

“That sounds fun but messy.”

“Which sounds like us,” she says with a smile. “This is as far as I can take you. Ambassador Crompton’s office is beyond that door. Locate me on my Tattoo if you need help getting back to the ninth tower.”

“The what?”

“The royal palace has twelve towers, and we’re staying in the ninth,” she throws over her shoulder as her heels click-clack away from me. “That’s why the ninth constellation colors our common room’s ceiling.”

She hits the wall switch and climbs back out through the opening, and I turn to the door beside me. In place of a handle is a silver palm sensor, and I press my hand against its cold metal. Seconds later the thought tunnel’s white fog floods the passageway until I can’t see anything.

I stand still while the mist dissipates, revealing first my head, then my torso, then my legs, until a light layer of cottony clouds swirls around my feet. Instead of the marble passage, I’m now in a spacious stone chamber, and above me hovers a massive ball of blue energy that’s sparking and buzzing and crackling with power.

“The royal palace’s energy source,” says a warm voice, and I turn to see a tall man with pink sunset eyes. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Wandering Star.”

“You as well, Ambassador.” He’s wearing a crisp court suit beneath a sweeping aqua cloak. From his neck hangs a Philosopher’s Stone that looks less gaudy than the others, bearing the crown symbol of the Royal Clan.

We trade the hand touch, and I feel a jolt of static; instinctively I pat my hair to check for frizz. “I’m sorry,” says Crompton, grimacing apologetically. “The energy in this chamber sometimes interferes with my Barer.”

As he says the word, I look down at the interconnected rings on his fingers, recognizing the device—it’s House Aquarius’s quick-draw weapon. The Barer’s bands convert energy from the atmosphere, emitting brilliant aqua arcs of electricity that can be molded into a series of lethal forms, including a sword, a bow, and a set of brass knuckles. Elders of the Royal Clan are always armed so they can be ready at all times to defend their sovereign.

I follow Crompton through one of the dozen doors outlining the chamber, and we enter an unadorned, windowless office with just a few choice pieces of vintage furniture. The only disruption to the plain sandstone walls is a rotating reel of holographic portraits, and I recognize the first face by his protruding forehead and nuclear fission eyes.

“Ambassador Morscerta,” I say, a memory suddenly surfacing, “used to project a shade around him. I noticed it at the Plenum, and when I touched it, I felt an electric shock.”

I look to Crompton who’s nodding nostalgically at the portrait. “He was one of the most advanced Elders I’ve ever known. He could do amazing things with a Barer, including project an energy shield so powerful, it could deflect most attacks. He was never without it—not even in sleep.” Meeting my gaze, Crompton shrugs and adds, “He was paranoid.”

The Aquarian settles into a throne-like aqua armchair behind a gold-trimmed desk, and I take one of the velvet seats across from him. “Ambassador Morscerta was my mentor. This was his office before I inherited it, and those images are the faces of every dignitary who’s inhabited this office, from the very first ambassador appointed by Supreme Guardian Aquarius himself in the earliest days of our House.”

I can’t help thinking of Cancer and all the truths and treasures and traditions that sunk to our planet’s seafloor.

When Hysan told me the black opal was Cancer’s Talisman, he said Guardians leave behind messages in their homes for their successors to find . . . only we’ll never know the last words of our Holy Mothers.

The ambassador’s velvety voice brings me back to his office. “Right away I want you to know that I have no leads on your mother’s whereabouts yet.”

Even though I was expecting this answer, my whole heart seems to crumble. I don’t know how it could have contained so much hope when I only contacted Crompton a couple of days ago.

“I don’t mean to be brusque,” he says, “but I didn’t want to pain you with what we Aquarians call dullatry—the courteous chitchat that delays important conversations—when this matter weighs so heavily on your heart.”

“I appreciate that,” I say, trying to sound unbroken.

But I must fail because Crompton continues in a too-cheery voice, “However, we’ve just started this search, and I don’t plan to give up yet, and neither should you.”

“I know, Ambassador,” I say, at last lifting my gaze from the gold-trimmed desktop. “It’s just—finding a single person who could be anywhere . . .”

“Is difficult, but doable.” His pink eyes brighten with warmth as he says, “Without hope, tomorrow is just another day.”

I want to believe his compassion is genuine, but I know better by now. The senators at the Plenum only care about me insofar as they can use me. If Sirna can’t be trusted, no ambassador can. “There’s something else I need to say. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful—your help means a lot to me—but I won’t be used by you and the Plenum anymore.”

Crompton’s expression goes from compassionate to confounded. “I don’t understand.”

“Your Peace declaration. You used my name to push an agenda I don’t believe in. You put lies in my mouth.”

Crompton’s brow furrows with a show of consternation that could be completely feigned. “Ambassador Sirna contacted us with assurances that you were in agreement with our assessment. On my honor, Wandering Star, I would never use your name in vain.”

His concern about my name reminds me of how meaningful the concept is on the Eleventh House; when an Aquarian becomes a Zodai, she loses her birth name and adopts a new one that’s given to her by her Clan, consisting of a single, personality-embodying word.

I can’t decide what to make of Crompton. On Vitulus, when I testified to Ophiuchus’s existence, he was the first ambassador from the non-believing Houses to stand up and cross the aisle to my side. He was also the one who gave me the Wandering Star title. The pre-Aryll me would probably approve of Crompton, maybe even like him . . . but I can’t trust my judgment anymore.

The ambassador rises to his feet. “I wish you a wonderful time at tonight’s ball, Wandering Star, and safe travels wherever your journey leads. I will be in touch if the need arises.”

“Oh.” It takes me a moment to stand.

He gives me a quick bow, and I’m flustered by his abrupt attitude shift and my sudden dismissal. I half-consider apologizing, since I still need his help to find Mom, but then I freeze at the sight of the white-haired, willowy woman who’s just entered the room.

“Supreme Advisor Untara,” I say, reaching out with my hand for the traditional touch greeting. I met her when all the Guardians were summoned to Phaetonis; she came along with Morscerta and the House’s six-year-old Supreme Guardian. “It’s an honor to see you again.”

She doesn’t raise her arm, and behind me Crompton says, “Supreme Advisor Untara is a hologram.” His tone, while tender, is tenser than before.

Untara looks so real that she must be transmitting from inside the castle, like Dr. Eusta used to do on Oceon 6. This kind of mobilized holographic projection is only possible in places that have been pre-outfitted with transmitters, like government buildings and corporate offices, and only the highest-ranking officials are generally authorized to move around so freely.

She continues to look at me for a long moment before bowing her head the slightest bit. “Wandering Star Rhoma Grace. You honor us with your presence.” Her voice is strikingly high. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“I came here to learn more about the Tomorrow Party.”

“How wonderful.” Her eyes are as gray and heavy as this morning’s sky. “And is Ambassador Crompton the one teaching you?”

“I was just welcoming her to our House is all,” says Crompton, his tone still cautious. “However, we’re finished here, so I am at your disposal.”

At this second dismissal, I say, “Thank you for your time.”

Untara watches me silently until I’m gone.

12

NAVIGATING THE PALACE’S PASSAGES AFTERmy meeting with Crompton gives me flashbacks to the Moonstone Maze on Elara, and after hitting my twelfth dead end, I touch my Ring and reach out to Mathias.

I’m lost.

Do you seek physical or metaphysical guidance?

I grin, even though he can’t see me. Any chance you can beam a map of the palace into my brain?

I can do better. Meet me in the Collective Conscious.

I close my eyes, and the sandstone walls around me are sucked into blackness. I’m here, I announce to the void.

There are a few shadowy forms nearby, but none of them pays me any attention. A small light grows larger on the far horizon, approaching me at breakneck speed, and before I can pull away, the Psynergy signature races right into me. With a jolt, I open my eyes.

Mathias’s sculpted face is at arm’s length from mine. “Hi.”

Breathless, I touch his sleeve to make sure he’s real, and my fingers feel hard muscle. “How—how did you do that?”

“It’s a protective measure the Royal Guard employs when they need to find their Guardian urgently, but it only works if they’re in close proximity.” A dark lock of hair pokes into his eye, and instinctively I reach up and brush it back for him. “Thanks,” he murmurs in a lower register, and I lock my hands behind me to resist doing it again.

“How does it work?” I ask to dissipate the tension.

He starts walking as he explains, and I fall in stride with him. “Guardians possess a close connection to the stars, which means they naturally attract more Psynergy than other people. Within the Psy, Psynergy possesses gravity-like properties; if someone commands enough of it, they can warp the network. So if a Zodai and Guardian have a strong connection, and they’re both attuned to the Collective Conscious, that Zodai can allow himself to be guided by his Guardian’s Psynergy.”

“But I’m not a Guardian anymore—”

“I guess no one informed the stars.” The playful look on his face makes me think of Helios’s Halo, the last time I saw Mathias smile. I’d like to see that sight again.

“So what are you up to?” I ask as we approach the star-high entrance hall. I have no clue how he managed to navigate us here.

“I’m going to pick up Pandora and bring her to the palace.”

Her name is an icy wall slamming down between us. Mathias seems to feel the cold front, too, because he adds, “She wanted to check out the Party. And Nishi said it was okay. Imogen said she could room with her tonight.”

I shuffle my blue frock from one arm to the other. “Oh. That’s good.”

His shoulders sag a little, and his hair falls into his eyes again. “I was actually looking for you earlier to see if you wanted to come with me, but Nishi said you were meeting with Ambassador Crompton. What did he want?”

“Diplomatic stuff,” I say evasively, not wanting to get into the whole Mom thing right now. “And I’d love to go with you.” The thought of seeing Candor again is incentive enough, but I also feel a need to be there when Mathias and Pandora reunite. Maybe I’ve developed a taste for torture.

Mathias straightens, and his tone lightens. “Pandora will meet us at a marketplace on the border between the Royal and Nightwing Kingdoms. We’ll fly the Pegazi over.”

“How do we call to them?” I ask as we step onto the waterfall plaza and I pull on my coat.

“We don’t. If we’re meant to fly them, they’ll find us.”

Right as I’m about to ask what he means, a set of aqua and gray steeds trots over from around the side of the castle. “That’s impossible,” I whisper, staring agape as Candor approaches.

“Aquarians are very protective of the Pegazi, so it’s hard to know much about them,” says Mathias softly so the velvet-clad valets don’t overhear us. “They don’t allow animal experimentation, no matter how much scientists from other Houses offer to pay to study these creatures, but they do have a fascinating philosophy about them.”

His indigo eyes seem to absorb the grayness of the horse’s hide and the overcast sky, making them glint like lead. “They believe that since the Pegazi attract so much Psynergy, they’re perpetually in sync with the stars and aware of everything that’s about to happen. Aquarians think that’s how Pegazi determine whom to bond with, and where to travel, and when to show up. They move not through space, but time.” He gives me a hand climbing onto Candor. “Their movements are guided by fate.”

•   •   •

We soar over the vast ocean toward Primitus’s southern hemisphere, and as I hug the Pegazi’s neck, I wonder if it’s true these creatures know the way everything will unfold. The thought makes me feel like I’m riding a shooting star.

Candor and I fly in companionable silence, and cradled into her spine I’m comforted by her warm hide, her gentle wings, her star-proof heart. A primordial instinct begins to stir within my Center, like I’ve been touched by the essence of House Cancer, the survival skill at the core of every Cancrian: Candor’s nurturing nature reminds me of maternal love.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been flying over the low-lying ocean when the horizon suddenly grows teeth: Mountains serrate the skyline, drowning the land below in shadows. If the Royal Kingdom was designed in a dream, Nightwing was born from a nightmare.

The spiky coastline of curvy and crooked peaks looks lethal, and it suddenly makes sense why the Pegazi only roam Primitus’s northern hemisphere. Instructor Tidus touched briefly on Nightwing for her lesson on the Zodiac’s best seers—since most come from here or Pisces—and I remember she said the people of this Clan live on mountaintops to be close to the stars.

Candor circles around the largest summit where there’s a small, open-air market, a landing pad, and a Pegazi paddock—but no spaceport or fueling station or anything to hint at much inter-House tourism. The two Clans that share Primitus are notoriously insular, so I wouldn’t be surprised if this planet doesn’t get many visitors.

Candor’s hooves thunder across the rocky earth of the paddock as she lands, and soon I hear the gray horse’s echoing movements. There are no other Pegazi here, and as I look around, I realize every Aquarian face is staring our way.

The moment we dismount, a pair of aqua-clad Elders—a man and a woman—materialize at our sides. “Identification?”

Mathias and I each press our thumbs on the small screens they hold out to us, and when my holographic tag comes up—Wandering Star Rhoma Grace of House Cancer—they gaze at me curiously but don’t ask questions.

“Where’s Pandora meeting us?” I whisper to Mathias as we follow the Elders out of the paddock.

“She said she’d find us,” he says, and we enter a sparsely attended marketplace. We cut through a grid of stands tented with heavy fabrics that sell everything from clothing to sustenance to Zodai supplies. Mathias dawdles by a delicate display of ivory Ephemerii, and I cast my gaze around, only I’m not searching for Pandora.

I’m looking for the Aquarian face from my visions.

Could that be why Candor was destined to fly me here—to reunite me with Mom?

My eyes alight on a dark stand at the end of the row draped in a black fabric so opaque that it swallows all surrounding light. The material makes me think of Dark Matter.

“Wandering Star.”

I turn to see Pandora, whose waterfall of auburn hair swallows everything but the amethyst orbs of her eyes. She bows to me before bumping fists.

“Nice to see you again, Pandora.” She’s wearing a charcoal frock that’s almost identical to mine, and an overnight bag is slung over one of her shoulders.

Mathias comes up beside me, and Pandora’s dusky violet gaze glides up to his. She shyly holds her fist up to him for the hand touch, and he smiles—Mathias smiles—and pulls her in for a hug instead.

Seeing his toothy grin, I’m sharply reminded of the boy I watched in the solarium, the one unburdened by death. Pandora’s pale skin blooms with color, and I suddenly feel like I’m intruding on a private reunion. The air grows chillier, and I cross my arms to keep warm. I shouldn’t have come here.

“So your parents were finally okay with you coming?” Mathias asks her, and from his tone it’s clear there’s a history to this conversation.

Pandora tips her head down, like her family’s worries are a physical weight. “It wasn’t easy,” she says in a small voice. “My sister is trying to help them understand . . . .”

Mathias reaches over and gently brings her chin up, like he’s helping her bear her burden. And I hear myself say, “I’m going to take a quick stroll to check out the stands.”

“Rho, wait,” says Mathias, his forehead furrowed with concern as I start to walk away. “We’ll come with you—”

“No.”

The word comes out harsh, so I add, “You guys catch up. I’ll be right back.”

I head down the line of storefronts, and I pretend to be interested in a case of flashy jewelry a few stands over, until at last I hear the low murmur of their conversation resume. Then I carefully peek back at them.

Pandora is fidgeting with her Philosopher’s Stone, but Mathias’s stance looks noticeably relaxed, like he’s comfortable in her company. Stan was like that with Jewel at first, and so was Deke with Nishi—before either guy recognized his feelings were more than friendly.

How could Mathias have said all those things to me on the flight to Aquarius when he and Pandora clearly have a connection? Mathias is the most honest person I know—I’m supposed to be able to trust him. And yet, like me, it seems he’s anything but self-aware when it comes to his heart.

I force myself to keep walking, and when I get to the end of the row, I notice the black tent again. Only this time I spy a pair of white eyes within the folds of darkness.

A strange jitteriness infects the air between us, like a ripple in the universe’s fabric.

I edge closer until I’m standing just outside the store’s shadow. But I still can’t make out anything inside besides those eyes.

My Ring finger buzzes. As I reach down into the icy energy, a raspy voice scratches at my mind.

Would you like to know your future, little girl?

I take a step back. It’s considered extremely taboo to break into a stranger’s consciousness uninvited; that usually only happens if a Zodai has a physical disability that makes telecommunication essential.

The seer’s irises are a frosty blue, so light they look almost white. I know the answer you’re so desperately seeking . . . or should I say the person?

A small gasp slips past my lips, and I step up to the tent’s threshold, as close to the darkness as I dare. Maybe the stars did bring me here to find Mom.

“I don’t have any money,” I say softly, shame trickling up my face.

You attract a lot of Psynergy for one so young, the voice whispers into my mind. Would you care to make a trade?

I have nothing to trade, I say, this time speaking through the Psy, mostly so my voice won’t give away my discomfort.

I’ll tell you where you can find her . . . if you’ll give me some of your Psynergy.

I shiver and repress a second gasp. I’ve heard stories about a black market for Psynergy, but I never believed it was real. I thought it was just something that happened in movies and holo-shows.

“No, thank you,” I say out loud.

Are you so certain your Psynergy is more valuable than your time?

The eyes move closer to me, but I still can’t see anything else. I’ve never heard of a fabric that can soak up light this completely.

Death is eager to have you.

The vision from yesterday paralyzes me with terror, and I can almost feel the omen’s putrid flavor filling my mouth again—

“Rho.”

Pandora’s cold fingers close around my arm, and she pulls me into her stride, away from those frosty eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks in her misty voice. “You look green.”

Death’s aftertaste is gone from my mouth, and I try focusing on my surroundings: We’re walking toward the Pegazi paddock. “Where’s Mathias?”

“He spotted another Cancrian and wanted to talk to him.”

“What . . . what was that black stand?”

“Dangerous,” she says in a hushed tone. “There are seers who dabble in a deadly practice called Psyphoning—they channel another person’s Psynergy so they can See more in the Psy. Only it’s a very delicate process that requires lots of mental control, and too often the seer takes too much Psynergy, and the drugged person stays trapped in their mind forever.”

I’m too revolted to respond, but thankfully we’re at the paddock, and Pandora is distracted by the Pegazi. “I can’t believe you bonded with your own Pegazi. They rarely do that with someone who isn’t of the Royal Kingdom.”

“Hey!”

We turn at the sound of Mathias’s voice. “Sorry about that,” he says, slightly out of breath. “There was a man here from the settlement on Secundus. He says the Fellowship Clan has been good to them, and they’re going to petition the Monarchy to see if they can formally band together as a Cancrian village under the Aquarian crown.”

“Identification.”

The same man and woman from earlier stop us at the paddock gate, only this time they’re addressing Pandora. When she presses her thumb to the screen, her holographic tag beams out—Pandora Koft, House Aquarius, Armada Survivor—and as the Elders scroll through additional details, I catch snippets like Nightwing Clan and Academy Dropout.

“What’s your business in the Royal Kingdom?” the male Elder asks her.

Pandora opens her mouth to speak, but a familiar baritone beats her to it. “We’re bringing Pandora with us to the palace,” says Mathias, speaking in the firm but respectful tone I remember from when I was his Guardian and he was my Guide. “She’s been invited to a royal ball tonight.”

The woman Elder wrinkles her brow. “There is no indication of such an invitation on your astrological fingerprint,” she says to Pandora.

“It’s a last-minute invitation. We can have someone from the palace hologram over and confirm.”

Mathias’s assertiveness holds none of the hesitation he showed on Scorpio. Only rather than reassuring me, his newfound confidence makes me feel less secure.

“We have no way of verifying that whomever you contact is the true organizer,” says the male Elder.

Pandora’s shoulders sink, and her defeatist reaction makes me demand, “Why is it you don’t need to see our invitations? Why are you only concerned with hers?”

The woman’s storm-colored eyes meet mine. “The Pegazi chose to bond with you, so your arrival and departure must have been ordained by the stars. Yet the same cannot be said of her.”

“This is Wandering Star Rhoma Grace,” says Mathias, as if my name should settle the matter. “It’s on her authority that Pandora is to come with us.”

“Plenum politics have no bearing on matters of Aquarian royalty,” says the male Elder, but he bows his head at me respectfully. “Apologies, but we must protect our sovereign and the royal family at all costs.”

Pandora’s staring at the ground, and Mathias and I trade questioning glances, each of us looking to the other for more ideas. I’m halfway tempted to contact Crompton himself to help us, when suddenly the Pegazi begin to move.

We all stare in awe as the gray and aqua steeds approach the paddock gate. The male Elder fumbles with the latch, and the woman helps him open the door for the Pegazi to step out. Then the Elders stumble back, giving the creatures a respectful distance as they clop over to us.

As if the horses have understood our whole conversation, Candor nods at the gray steed, and the latter bows before Pandora. The female Elder can’t hold back her gasp.

“Looks like the stars are speaking through the Pegazi,” says Mathias, and without waiting for permission, he helps Pandora climb on, showing her the dip in the horse’s back so she can slide into it. The two Elders look like they’d like to disagree but can’t find the words.

“Want help getting on?” he asks me, and I shake my head. I walk over to Candor, and she bows extra low for me so that I can climb on alone. I look back and see Mathias sitting behind Pandora, their bodies so close that her hair touches his chin.

Candor takes off first, which is a good thing since it means I won’t have to watch them the whole flight.

The cold air whipping at my face clears my mind. Ophiuchus said the worst thing for us is to be truly alone—no friends, no family, no future. Yet since becoming a Guardian, I’ve spent as much time fighting against my heart as I have against the master.

Maybe Mathias is right that rather than repressing our feelings, we should be embracing them. None of us is guaranteed a future—so why shouldn’t we seize the chance to be happy while we’re still here?

A few months ago I thought love couldn’t exist in times of war . . . only now I think I was wrong. Love is how we win wars. It’s only when we’re leading a life we want to keep that war becomes worth waging and winning.

Seeing Pandora enjoy Mathias’s Cancrian care and protection makes me miss it more than I thought possible. It makes me want to reach out and secure it before it’s gone. Except this time, Pandora brought out Mathias’s strength . . . not me.

When the Marad captured them, they were thrown together in a situation so terrorizing that they still can’t fully describe what happened. For weeks that must have felt like years to them, they clung onto one another to survive. They were broken again and again, and each time they had to repair each other, before the next beating happened.

After all they’ve been through, I’ve no doubt that the two of them could have something real and lasting.

But only if Mathias and I can let each other go.

13

WE MEET STAN, NISHI, AND Imogen for lunch at the dining hall closest to the ninth tower. Beneath a high-arched roof is a sea of round tables surrounded by throne-like chairs.

Nishi and Stan are waiting for me by the entrance with eager faces, and I shake my head as I approach. Letting Pandora and Mathias walk ahead, I say, “No news yet.” The look on my brother’s face makes me add, “but we knew this was too soon, and Crompton is hopeful.”

“I’m hopeful, too,” says Nishi gently. She seems willing to forget our awkwardness this morning, and I’m glad because I don’t want to upset her, though my gut churns thinking of the moment when we finally do have the conversation she’s so determined to avoid.

She links her arm with Stan’s, and we join Mathias, Pandora, and Imogen at a table. “So what have you guys been up to?” I ask as we sit down.

“Watching the news,” says Stanton, his voice tight. “There’s been an update on Pisces.”

I lean into the table, but our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of two velvet-clad valets with trays of food. They deposit massive gold and silver platters in the center of our table, enough food that it could feed a group twice our size. Holographic identification tags hover over each dish for a moment, and every ingredient sounds foreign to me—glazed oven roast, spiced porklings, sweet aquadile skewers—and accompanying the meats are bowls of the largest vegetables I’ve ever seen.

I learned my lesson last night not to pile my plate with too much food—it’s good, but it’s so rich that a few bites are more than enough. As soon as the valets depart, my brother picks up the thread again. “Healers from other Houses have gotten to Pisces, and the situation is worse than was first reported. They still don’t know how the sleeping virus is being spread, but it’s moving so fast that it’s already infected over half the population. Prophet Marinda had to issue a decree confining people to their homes because bodies were dropping all over the place.”

“What’s being done to try to cure them?” I ask.

“First we have to know what’s affecting them,” he says darkly. “The Guardians have divided the care of the five planetoids among all the Houses. The first concern will be to protect those Piscenes who aren’t showing signs of infection yet, so they’ll separate the people of every planetoid into two camps.”

“What could cause this?” I ask, turning to Nishi. She shakes her head like she’s just as baffled as I am, only she’s looking down at a holographic screen from her Tracker and typing a message.

“But there’s a bigger problem,” says my brother, and I snap my gaze to him.

“Worse than the whole Piscene population falling into comas—”

“The infected can’t Center themselves,” says Pandora, and a heavy silence falls over the table.

“They’ve been discussing this all morning on Nightwing,” she adds in her soft voice. “Since the past two months have been peaceful, too few Piscenes are off world. Which means nearly the whole population is home.”

She doesn’t have to say more for the full horror to settle on me. Cancer lost its land, but a tenth of our people survived thanks to early evacuations. Virgo lost 50 percent of its population, and Gemini lost a third, but if 99 percent of Piscenes lose their connection to the Collective Conscious . . .

“House Pisces will be lost to the Psy,” I whisper.

Just like House Ophiuchus.

The loaded silence that follows my words is broken by my brother. “Only good news is the Houses are now so preoccupied with Pisces, they’ve forgotten to kick our people out of our settlements.”

He stabs a piece of meat with his fork, and I notice his eyes are bloodshot again. I turn to Nishi, who’s barely picked at her food. She’s still answering messages, probably having to do with managing tonight’s event. Her complete focus on her duties reminds me of her intense dedication to our band. She’s being old Nishi, from before we lost our school and our safety and our Deke.

“So when do we meet Blaze?” I ask, and the question finally pulls her away from her Tracker.

She winks out the red holographic screen. “Now, if you’re ready!”

She’s already pushing back from the table when Imogen says, “Just one thing. We should probably settle on dates for the ball first.”

“Oh, right,” says Nishi.

“Why do we need dates?” I ask.

“It’s an Aquarian custom,” says Pandora, and it’s hard to miss the spark of hope in her voice. “We take an escort to most events. But especially a royal ball.”

My gaze darts to Mathias, and a flush rises up my face when I find he’s already looking at me.

“I’m not taking a date,” announces Stan.

“We’re guests here, so we have to follow Aquarian traditions,” says Nishi, and the way she overrides him reminds me of how she used to override Deke at the Academy.

“But, the thing is,” she goes on, her expression becoming apologetic as she turns to me, “since what we’re doing with the Tomorrow Party transcends House divisions, Blaze wants tonight to be different from previous balls. So we each have to take someone from a different House.”

The moment the words are out of her mouth, I can’t look in Mathias and Pandora’s direction again.

“Stanton, you’ll have the honor of escorting me tonight.” Imogen’s invitation sounds less like a question and more like a declaration. Her confidence reminds me of Miss Trii.

I watch my brother’s neck glow red with embarrassment, and then he brings his glass of water to his lips to avoid answering.

Knowing whom this night will be hardest on, I turn to my best friend and take her hand. “Will you go to the ball with me, Nish?”

She nods and rests her head on my shoulder, and I caress her long, black tresses, trying to ignore what’s going across from me. All I can make out is Pandora’s Philosopher’s Stone, which she’s turning anxiously over and over in her hands.

“Would you like to go together tonight?”

At the sound of Mathias’s musical baritone, the Philosopher’s Stone stops spinning, and I pull Nishi to her feet to tune out Pandora’s reply.

“We should go,” I say, leading the way to the ninth tower without looking back, my pulse rising and my hands becoming clammy.

I don’t know how my heart got so twisted. Somewhere along the way I just started letting my emotions grow wild and tangled, without stopping to prune them, and now they’ve wrapped around my ribcage like vines, and they won’t let me see what’s going on in there.

I’d like to claim I’ve been too focused on all the lives threatened by Ochus and the master and the Marad to think of my own. But the truth Engle forced me to face is that I was neglecting my heart long before the Lunar Quadract. Even as a kid on Cancer, rather than facing the pain of growing up in a house without Mom, I chose to escape to the moon. Then as an Acolyte, rather than risking the pain of opening my heart to someone, I chose the safety of loving an older man who was too noble to love me back, finding solace in the riddle of knowing that if Mathias had feelings for me when I was too young, he wouldn’t be the noble man I loved.

But I can’t hide behind our age difference anymore because it doesn’t matter. So is my fear once more trying to guide me down a pain-free path? And if so, what frightens me more: that I’m in love with Mathias . . . or that I might not be?

“Here we are,” says Nishi when we’re back in the ninth tower’s busy common room. She knocks on a door at the far end of the space.

A voice from inside calls, “Come in!”

When Nishi swings the door open, I pause on the threshold to Blaze’s office. I’ve never seen such a cluttered room in my life. Holographic posters cover every inch of wall space, and open boxes of every size are strewn throughout, spilling their colorful contents on the floor.

“Over here!” the same voice says from somewhere deep inside, beyond the stacks upon stacks of documents and decorations and devices. As we pick our way through the jumble, I see that the boxes are there for a reason—they’re like flags indicating where one collection of items ends and the next begins.

My gaze pans across mounds of books, food baskets, Tomorrow Party T-shirts . . . and the longer I stare at everything, the more I realize that the seemingly haphazard placement is purposeful. There’s some kind of unintelligible design in the chaos, a wild creature’s organizational system.

“Just a little farther!” he calls out encouragingly.

Wending through the piles of possessions, I pick up on a territorial vibe. However temporary the arrangement, this office clearly belongs to its inhabitant.

We finally make it to the back of the room, where there’s a slightly open area with a table and chairs. “Welcome!” roars a beaming, blue-haired Leonine, baring his jaws in a broad smile.

Rather than hold out his hand for the traditional greeting, he pulls each of us in for a hug. “It’s an honor, Rho,” says Blaze gruffly. After everyone’s been introduced, he looks to me and opens his arms like he’s offering another hug.

“So, Wandering Star. What do you want to know?”

Now that I’ve met him, I can understand the state of this office. Blaze seems like the kind of man who owns every room he walks into.

“What’s your goal with the Tomorrow Party?” asks my brother before I can speak.

Blaze takes a seat at the head of the table and gestures that we should join him. “Our goal is to build bridges across the Zodiac so that we can stop viewing each other as strangers. We want to usher in a new generation of leaders who want to work together with the other Houses and encourage people to see beyond the walls of their own worlds. And we’re doing that by focusing on a number of things.

“First, fundraising. Without money, we can’t pay for things like tonight’s event, which is when we’re going to introduce ourselves to a small group of powerful people from the Houses and gauge what kind of support or resistance we’re likely to encounter from the rest of the Zodiac. Second, we’re researching the up-and-coming unionist leaders of every House to back them for upcoming elections.” He looks from my brother to me, and I spy the rainbow highlights peeking out through his blue locks. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the past couple of decades the stars have chosen some of the youngest Guardians we’ve ever had. Guardian Brynda of Sagittarius, Prophet Marinda of Pisces, Gortheaux of Aquarius—and, of course, you.”

Hysan, too, I think to myself.

“The stars have been choosing younger and younger Guardians because our galaxy is turning the page. A new order is needed for the Zodiac. A new vision for tomorrow.”

“That sounds great,” I say. “But every House has its own governance and election cycle, and building new political players and platforms—on twelve worlds—will take years. The Zodiac might not have that long. We need to come together now.”

I didn’t mean to sound so ominous, but from the way everyone’s staring at me, I can tell they’re all wondering whether I’ve had a vision. The taste of Death sours my tongue again, but I force myself to ignore it.

“You’re right,” says Blaze, his russet gaze so intense that I can’t pull away. “And that’s why we’re not waiting.”

Nishi and Imogen sit up, and an air of suspense settles over the table.

“The third and final task we’ve been working on will make sure that when this threat is over, our Zodiac’s newfound era of peace will be even better—and more progressive. We’re working with a privately funded team of scientists from every House to develop a terraform planet between the Leo and Virgo constellations. We’re petitioning the Plenum to allow this settlement to become, on a one-year experimental basis, home to a mixed population of people from across the Houses.”

Nishi squeezes my hand under the table, but I can’t even blink.

“We want to create a model of Zodiac living where we aren’t segregated by race. A system where we can just be a collection of individuals working together and celebrating a variety of cultures. A world where choice outweighs chance, where a man can change his stars.

“And we’ve named this new world Black Moon.”

14

An hour later Nishi and Iare lying side by side on the feathery bed, gazing up at the tower’s pointy ceiling.

“Why Black Moon?” I whisper.

“It’s a term for when there’s more than one new moon in a month,” she says softly. “So we’re thinking of it as a chance for a new beginning.”

I’m still in too much shock to string my thoughts into cohesion. The only thing I can think of is Ferez and his vision for our future. It’s coming to fruition. Nishi was right. This Party is everything we’ve been fighting for.

Back in his office, Blaze showed us breathtaking designs for a major city that will one day be home to people from every House. He also spoke of having cultural centers throughout where people can go learn about each other’s race through interactive workshops and exhibits. There will be a dozen temples where anyone who chooses can continue to celebrate her home world’s traditions. Black Moon will have a democratic government: Residents will elect their own representatives, and anyone will be eligible to run for office. It will be a place where House affiliation won’t matter, where everyone will have a home.

Even Stanton couldn’t find anything objectionable. Once Blaze was finished speaking, my brother sat in the same bewildered silence as the rest of us.

“This is incredible, Nish,” I finally say, a tear falling into my hair. She rolls onto her side to face me, propping her head up on her elbow.

“I told you, Rho! We’re not just talking anymore . . . we’re doing. We’re changing the—”

Her whole face goes white, and she leaps to her feet, like she’s been stung by a water-fly.

I know what she was going to say because I was thinking it, too. We’re changing the norm by breaking it. Just like Deke wanted.

She marches toward the door. “I need to check on something—”

“Nish, wait—let’s talk—”

I reach for her hand, but she swats me away. When she swings around to face me, her cinnamon skin is pale and her face is unrecognizably twisted.

“Don’t,”she warns.

“But—”

“I don’t dwell in the past, Rho.” I flinch at the hardness in her voice.

“I know,” I say, “but you also can’t keep running from it. If you want to move forward, you need to face what’s happened and make your peace with it—”

“The same way you did with your Mom?” she asks, her voice almost icy. “Same way you’re doing with Hysan?”

My mouth is suddenly parched. “So because I’ve mishandled the painful parts of my past, you’re going to do the same with yours?”

“I’m not the one mishandling anything,” she snarls. “I’m the one putting aside her personal problems to do what needs doing. But be honest with yourself—did you truly come to Aquarius to be part of this Party, or are you here to find your mom?”

I swallow down the awful feelings rising up my throat. “I came to make sure you were okay, Nish.”

Her austere expression cracks, and she closes her eyes and inhales slowly, like she’s Centering herself. When she looks at me again, she seems tired and sad.

“I don’t want to fight,” she says, letting me take her hand. “I found something to believe in here, something he would have wanted to be part of. Right now I just need to focus on that. This is how I honor him.”

•   •   •

After my almost-fight with Nishi, I decide to leave the room for some alone time before we have to start getting ready for the ball. From Black Moon to Nightwing to Pisces, today has been exhausting on every level. And yet, of everything that’s happened, I still can’t shake the sound of the seer’s raspy voice.

She Saw my death, too.

I head down through the trapdoor to consult the Ephemeris, and just as she did on Vitulus, Pandora beats me to the stars.

“We really need to stop meeting this way.”

She flicks her gaze over to me when I speak, but she doesn’t look surprised. “On Aquarius, when two people’s paths are constantly tangling, we say they’re soul-bound—which means the same stars must be pulling our strings.”

“I like that.”

We meet in the middle of the room, like a couple of stars being drawn to the holographic Helios. “My parents couldn’t believe I was invited to the royal palace,” she says, a note of pride in her voice. “Usually only our senior Elders are welcome.”

“Why is the palace so hard to access?”

“To protect the royal family. If the bloodline ends, so does our connection to the stars.” The spectral map dapples the dark sandstone walls with light, and the shadows on Pandora’s face remind me of how she looked when we discovered her in the Marad torture chamber.

“How was coming home?” I ask, for a moment almost envying her for having a home and a family and a planet to return to.

Her eyes grow cloudy. “I thought . . . I thought I’d never make it back. And in some ways, I haven’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was good to see my family, especially my sister. Only now I feel . . .”

She trails off, her airy voice dissipating into nothingness, and when she doesn’t pick up her own thread again, I goad her gently. “Now you feel . . . ?”

“Like I’ve outgrown my life,” she says, her amethyst eyes glowing as bright as the orbs of light surrounding us. “Like this isn’t me anymore.”

Her voice dips so low that I’m not sure if the words are for my ears or just for her own. “At a certain point the torture room where you found us began to feel more familiar than my own home.”

The admission is so darkly personal that I’m taken aback by her easy trust, especially when it’s hard to know where we stand with each other. Can we be both friends and rivals?

Before I can ask what she means, she asks me, “Do you think light can erase even the worst kind of darkness?” I start to nod yes, but I stop as she begins a new question. “Or do you think sometimes the dark can weigh so heavily on your skin that it seeps into your pores and becomes part of you?”

“I’m not sure what you—”

“After going so long without sunlight, I don’t think I can return to an ordinary life. I can’t stay here, on Primitus, pretending I don’t know what lurks in the darkness. I need to be part of this fight . . . because this war is the only home I have left.”

I nod, finally understanding her. “Sounds like we’re soul-bound after all.”

•   •   •

An hour before the ball begins, Nishi and I are cozying up on the Lady’s Lounge couch while she tries dozens of dresses on my hologram.

My doppelganger is caught in a whirlwind of gaudy gowns with corset-like torsos and full-formed skirts, in all kinds of colorful fabrics—embroidered taffeta accented with lace, sheer chiffon woven with pearls, brocade trimmed with silver, silky charmeuse studded with stones, crinkly crepe lined with fur, and more. Nishi’s planning to wear a pale pink taffeta number, and when she modeled it for me on her hologram, she looked like a princess that belongs in this palace.

Nishi is tall, so she can pull off these elaborate Aquarian skirts way better than I can. My hologram just keeps getting swallowed by the fabrics.

“None of these is going to work,” she snaps. The nice thing about having such an honest best friend is that I don’t have to worry about her lying to make me feel better. “But don’t worry,” she adds quickly. “We’ll find something.”

There’s a knock on our door, and we open it to find a couple of Aquarian lady’s maids. One of them is holding a large garment bag.

“Good evening. We’re here to help you get ready for the ball,” says the older of the two. She has the orange eyes of a sunny afternoon. “We also bring a message for the Wandering Star from”—she seems to debate her words a moment—“a rather unpleasant woman who insisted we deliver this dress to you and seemed to imply we would be inciting a political incident between our Houses if we failed her.”

“Oh. I’m . . . sorry?”

Nishi hears the laugh I’m biting back and mouths, “Who?”

“A thousand galactic gold coins says it’s Sirna,” I say as I accept the bag from the Aquarian. I carefully lay it out on the bed, and Nish impatiently reaches down and unzips it. She gasps at the soft, golden glow that beams out.

The dress is made of the most stunning material I’ve ever seen; it looks like millions of strands of liquid gold were woven together to create it. The structured bodice has a heart-shaped neckline held in place by a column of small diamonds that button down the back, and the skirt unfolds into a gown that’s far less puffy than all the others I’ve just seen. There’s no additional adornment or accent; the dress is simply a sea of gold without interruption, and it comes with a pair of matching, arm-length golden gloves.

“Helios,”breathes Nishi. “It’s stellar, Rho.”

The color makes me think of Hysan’s golden Knight suit, and before I can punch them back, memories of him spill out of my subconscious and spread through my body.

My heart hurts the moment I allow my feelings for him to surface. I don’t know what I miss more—his touch or his words. I’ve been trying so hard to move forward by going backward—taking back the passage of time, taking back my feelings for Hysan, taking back my years of silence with Mathias. But however hard I try, I can’t seem to make Time move in that direction.

The dress’s fine fabric feels as light as air, and as I run my fingers through it, a hand-written note topples out from the skirt’s folds.

If the stars had called on me to lead when I was sixteen, I don’t know how I would have fared. But I doubt I would have shown half your bravery or heart. Stay safe out there, Rho.

Your friend, Sirna

My gaze lingers on the last line . . . your friend. But is Sirna my friend, even after everything she said to me, even after betraying me to the Plenum? I twine my fingers through the gold chain around my neck with its single rose-colored nar-clam pearl—another gift from Sirna—while Nishi bathes and the lady’s maids set up stations in the Lounge. Whether or not Sirna and I are friends, she does have a habit of swooping in and saving me when I need her to. I guess I owe her too much to hold a grudge.

I decide to leave the necklace on—it matches the dress, after all—and following a soak in the luxurious tub, I pull on my plush aqua robe and sit beside Nishi at the vanity. The younger lady’s maid is already styling Nishi’s black locks into an elaborately braided bun that makes her look like she’s wearing a crown.

“The regal look suits you,” I say, and Nishi winks at me in the mirror.

The woman with the sunny eyes brushes out my blond hair and sprays the strands until my curls grow wavy and glossy, then she starts pinning my locks into an asymmetrical up-do that makes me look slightly lopsided. When she leans over me to apply makeup, she blocks my view of the mirror, and to avoid staring at her chest, I close my eyes while she works, bringing Nishi’s commentary into focus.

“No, not that dark,” she tells the lady’s maid styling her. “Let’s use a thin line of black eyeliner along my lashes and add just the tiniest dash of shine on the lids, but—no, not that color for the lipstick; I don’t want to clash with the pale tone of the dress . . . .”

I start to tune her out, and my mind wanders to where Lola and Leyla might be. The last time we spoke was a month ago when I Waved Leyla to check in; she and Lola were accompanying Agatha on her visit to our Taurian camp, located on Vitulus’s Flank Section.

Poor Agatha must be so overwhelmed with the situation on our settlements, especially now that she also has to deal with what’s happening on Pisces. Maybe there’s something I can do to help. I could call Sirna tomorrow to thank her for the dress and see if she can pass Agatha a message from me.

I hear Nishi getting to her feet. “Rho, I need to check in with Blaze and Imogen to make sure everything is on track, and I’ll come back to get dressed with you.”

I can’t answer because my lips are being painted. Once the lady’s maid steps back from my face, I open my eyes and see my reflection.

I glue my tongue to the roof of my mouth until I’m sure I have my emotions under control. Then I manage to say, “Thank you so much.”

When I’m left alone in the Lounge, I study myself in the mirror. Now I understand why Nishi was so vocal earlier. My face is a disaster. I look like a fancy ghost: My skin has been painted a pale, powdery white, and my eyes are outlined in gold with glittering eye shadow. My gaze travels up to the cockeyed mess of hair on my head, and I know there’s no way I can leave the room like this.

I start pulling out pins. There are hundreds, and by the time I’m done, my curls fall freely over my face. Then I go into the bathroom and wash the makeup off in the sink.

I return to the vanity and stare dejectedly at my reflection, then crack open my Wave and call Leyla. Rather than reaching out traditionally—which would send my hologram to her—I send a reverse request; if she accepts, her hologram will be transmitted here.

A few minutes later, Leyla’s demure figure manifests in the air before me; like always, her red hair is pulled tightly away from her sapphire eyes.

“Wandering Star, it’s an honor to hear from you,” she says, bowing and sounding slightly out of breath.

“You, too, Leyla. If you’re busy, we can talk another time,” I send back, realizing how selfish I’m being. I don’t know where she is, so I have no idea what time it is for her. “I don’t mean to take you away from sleep or Holy Mother or any other obligations.”

When her transmission reactivates, she’s shaking her head at my concerns. “We’re on Leo, and it’s the middle of the afternoon.” Her gaze pans across my surroundings, and she asks, “How may I be of service?”

“Well . . . I’m on Aquarius, about to attend a royal ball, and I was wondering if you had a moment to help me get ready?”

Leyla flashes her rare smile. “I would have been hurt if you didn’t ask.”

After I show her the dress, she makes me hold up various tins and tubes on the table, and then she starts instructing me. “The gold of the gown is flashy enough, so you should go with a more natural look, and maybe a little pop on your lips. Show me that foundation again.”

Once she’s picked out what I’m going to use, she directs me as I apply each item. While I work, she fills me in on what’s happening with our refugee camps. “We’re leaving our settlement on Hydragyr,” she tells me, her face somber. “There are too many displaced Geminin, and it isn’t right to ask them to split their resources with us when they need them just as much.”

I lower my powder brush and stare at her. “Where will we go?”

After a transmission delay, she says, “We are negotiating with the Sagittarian government to create a permanent settlement along the coastline of planet Gryphon. Or at least, we were, until Pisces became everyone’s primary concern.”

“Have you heard any theories about what this epidemic could be?”

“No, but Lola found out that Stridents managed to isolate the agent in the blood of the infected, so now they can test conscious Piscenes to see who will develop the symptoms. They also synthesized a type of antiviral that protects visiting Zodai from becoming infected.”

Again I’m reminded of how important House Scorpio is to the Zodiac. Their Innovation is what we’re going to need to survive this war—and, just as significantly, to rebuild the Zodiac.

“Let me look at you,” says Leyla, pulling me out of my reverie. “You can lose the headband now so we can figure out your hair.”

My curls tumble loose, and while I wait for Leyla’s hologram to reactivate, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My sun-kissed skin glows, and there’s a light dusting of gold bronzer along my cheekbones. Brown liner tops my eyelids, softened with a shimmer of creamy eye shadow. The beachy curls and understated makeup remind me of the natural look of the Cancrians back home.

I watch Leyla’s eyes stray to the line of lipsticks on the vanity. “How do you feel about bold lips?”

“What are you thinking?” I ask, following her gaze.

“Red.”

Unlike the glossy red shade Imogen uses on her lips, Leyla picks out a matte shade that makes me think of rose petals. “Leave your hair down,” she says, and I hear echoes of home in her voice, too. “You look more like you that way.”

“Thanks, Leyla. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Yes, you could have. But you wouldn’t look this good.”

I laugh, and then we end our call right as Nishi walks into the Lounge.

“Called it!”she says the moment she sees me. “I saw your makeup as I was leaving, and I was sure by the time I came back you’d have washed it off. You did a good job on your own.”

“I had help,” I admit, following her out to the main room where our dresses are laid out on the bed.

The lady’s maids are here waiting to help us into our gowns, and when the woman with the orange eyes sees that I’ve undone all her hard work, her brow dips with disapproval. I didn’t think about the fact that I’d be seeing her again, and I feel my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur as she holds the dress up for me. “I just didn’t feel like myself. . . .”

She doesn’t speak as she works, and it takes a lot of pulling and tugging to button every last diamond lining the bodice’s back. I notice her eyes straying to the scars on my arm, and when she tries to remove the small black glove from my left hand to replace it with the long golden one, I pull my arm back.

“I can put the gloves on. Thank you for your help.” She nods and leaves the room.

I turn away from Nishi and her lady’s maid as I strip off the black glove so they won’t see the Scorp weapon that hides beneath it. Then I slide my arms into the long golden gloves.

Once it’s just the two of us in the room, Nishi and I turn to each other. She looks like the belle of the ball with her coronet of black hair, soft pastel makeup, and pink taffeta gown.

“Let’s have fun tonight,” she says, squeezing my hand. “No dark thoughts.”

I nod. “It’s a plan.”

We duck into the Lady’s Lounge to check ourselves out in the mirror, and almost immediately the flint Tracker on Nishi’s wrist starts singing with alerts. “I need to head downstairs,” she says, rushing out after a fleeting glance at her reflection. “Meet you there!”

I’m about to follow her, but I decide to look in the mirror first. And when I do, I see someone else.

The dress is out of this world; it looks like I’ve wrapped one of Helios’s rays around me. And yet that’s not what catches my eye.

My features reflect the effects of the shift from my sedentary days on Elara to this new adventurous life of racing through the Zodiac. My cheekbones stick out more, my waist is more toned, and my hair hangs longer than it has in years. It’s hard to find the girl I was in the woman I’ve become. But still none of these details are what’s most striking.

The thing I can’t get over as I look at my reflection . . . is how much I look like Mom.

15

I LEAVE THE ROOM, ANDeveryone is waiting for me at the foot of the spiral staircase. Everyone except Nishi.

I focus on the floor as I climb down in my high heels, but as I’m descending the last ring of steps, I steal a peek at Mathias. The sight of him in his black tuxedo nearly makes me miss a step.

Mathias sees me stumble, and when he steps forward to offer me his arm, I feel my cheeks heat up. The way he fills out a tuxedo makes me think the style must have been invented just for him.

“You look like you could light up the universe,” he murmurs in his musical voice. His dark, wavy hair is combed back, leaving his indigo eyes front and center, and I’m reminded of how I felt the night he picked me up for my swearing-in ceremony, when it seemed like anything was still possible between us.

“You look . . .” I trail off, failing to find a word as beautiful as he is. Then I realize the others have gone quiet and say loudly, “You all look great!”

Stanton is wearing a disgruntled expression along with his navy-blue tux, and beside him Imogen is in a low-cut black levlan gown that makes her look like a sexy rock star. Pandora looks pretty in a turquoise gown that’s simpler than the others, though she seems the least comfortable by far. I would have thought as an Aquarian she’d be used to this kind of opulence, but it appears the Nightwing and Royal Clans follow very different rules.

“Let’s hurry,” says Nishi, dashing over from the common room. “We’re late, and if anyone notices, it’s going to look bad for me and Imogen.”

She takes my arm, and the six of us race through the sandstone halls of the palace, cutting through numerous drawing rooms, a couple of thought tunnels, and the star-high entrance hall with its stained glass windows, where some kind of scuffle is taking place by the main doors. A dozen valets in velvet top hats are blocking the commotion so I can’t see what’s causing it, but as I peek between the bodies, I think I spot a familiar face with a mane of brown hair. Yet before I can place him, we’ve turned the corner.

At last we reach the marble wall that marks the easternmost end of the castle, and a pair of Elders approach us to check our identities. After we’ve all flashed our thumbprints, an Aquarian presses his handprint to the wall, and a slab of marble slides down, opening a doorway into the ball.

We step onto the balcony of a grand staircase that descends into an enormous domed ballroom. The floor below is packed with couples dressed in formalwear, and a blanket of white, cottony smoke swirls along the ground, giving the impression that everyone is walking on clouds.

My eyes dart all over the place, taking in the room’s grandeur. Intricate patterns in plated gold and silver are woven into the white marble walls, forming elaborate compositions that look like if you stared at them long enough, they might reveal a hidden design. There’s a full orchestra playing a lively waltz at the far end of the hall, and ornate silver and gold trays bearing tall-stemmed glasses with a clear, fizzy drink float on their own among the partygoers.

The whole event feels enchanting but decadent, just like House Aquarius. The clothing is too busy, the lifestyle is too loud, the meals are too rich, the portions too large, the country too vast, and at times it’s all too much. And yet it’s also mythic and majestic and beguiling, and I can see how someone would never want to leave this place. It’s the kind of world where fairy tales might actually exist.

And maybe even happily ever afters.

Once we’ve regrouped on the cloudy ground, Stanton says, “Pisces is on the cusp of extinction, our people are being exiled, the Marad could attack any moment, and here we are, having a royal ball.”

I don’t say it out loud to avoid agitating him further, but I can’t help agreeing. I wonder where all this money came from, since I’d gotten the impression the Party’s backers were young and idealistic people, not older wealthy types; this level of opulence feels almost in opposition to the Party’s philosophy of acceptance and open-mindedness.

Still, it’s only natural that as different cultures come together, we’re going to clash. Traditions will rub us the wrong way, people will be misunderstood, arguments will arise—but we can’t jump to judgment, or we’ll never make any progress.

“Stan, they couldn’t accept Aquarius’s support while dismissing its customs. This is how the royal palace throws parties, and the Tomorrow Party had to respect that.”

“Hear, hear!” says a voice behind me, and I turn to see a smiling girl with a headful of braids reaching out to bump fists with me.

“Ezra!” I say at the sight of the brazen and brilliant fifteen-year-old from Centaurion. She’s wearing a silver tulle gown revealing feet that are clad in clunky combat boots.

As we trade the hand touch, she asks, “Have you come to join the Tomorrow Party?”

Before I can answer, a mournful voice injects, “Or are you here in your capacity as Wandering Star?”

I look up to see her friend, the philosophical Gyzer, smiling at me, and I feel a smile warming my face, too.

“Or both?” asks Ezra.

“Or neither?” asks Gyzer.

“Helios, is that what I sound like?” asks Nishi, turning to me with a preoccupied brow.

I look at the three sets of long-cut eyes staring at me, awaiting answers, and all I can manage is, “You Sagittarians are exhausting.”

“Thank you!” says Ezra, as Nishi laughs.

“You know you were supposed to bring a date from a different House, right?” asks Imogen, after Ezra and Gyzer have traded the hand touch with everyone.

“Try telling him that.” Ezra rolls her eyes toward Gyzer.

“What’s wrong with bringing someone from our own House?” he asks, and in the depths of his soulful eyes I spy a challenge. “I find it troubling that a Party founded on a foundation of choice would forbid us from bringing whoever we wanted.”

“It wasn’t meant to be taken that way,” says Nishi defensively. “It’s about celebrating the spirit of the Party. It’s not like anyone’s going around enforcing it.”

“That’s not the point,” says Gyzer. His lavender bowtie—the color of Sagittarius—pops against the dark gray of his tux and the coal-black of his skin. “Freedom shouldn’t move like an arrow, in a singular direction. It should flow like an ocean, swallowing the whole horizon.”

“I like that,” I say, and noting Nishi’s frown I turn to Ezra. “What’s been going on since Taurus? I remember your invention traced part of the Marad’s transmission. So does that mean you’re working for Brynda now?”

Ezra looks at Gyzer before answering. “Well, she wants us to finish our Acolyte studies first, but we’re done with that life. We can’t just go back to school after everything that’s happened.”

“So what then?” asks Stan. “What will you do?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” She looks like she might say more, but again she looks at Gyzer, and this time I notice his reaction—a slight shake of his head. And she stops talking.

Just then another couple approaches our group, and I recognize more faces from Centaurion. “Numen!”

The blond Libran flashes me a charming smile. “Lady Rho, it’s wonderful to see you.” She bows before bumping fists with me, and I have to look away from her gray eyes to avoid seeing the painfully familiar golden star.

“This is Qima,” she says, introducing me to an olive-skinned, mossy-eyed girl whom I remember from Twain’s crew.

“Nice to see you again,” I say, trading the hand touch with the Virgo. “And I’m . . . I’m sorry about Twain. And Moira,” I add, thinking of the still-comatose Guardian.

“And planet Tethys, too?” she asks, one brow arched. “Seems like our House has lost a lot since you came onto our soil.”

“I—”

“I’m not blaming you.” There’s no threat or sarcasm in her voice; she’s just stating facts. “I’m simply pointing out that our House has suffered as much as yours. So if you need help, you need to come to us.”

“I will,” I say, if only to escape the intensity of her gaze.

“Virgos have been cooped up on their constellation for so long, they’ve forgotten how to socialize,” says a sunny Numen. “I guess politeness isn’t a function on their Perfectionaries.”

“What’s wrong with what I said?” asks Qima, who looks to be fighting back a grin, while the Libran laughs openly and melodically.

As the others introduce themselves, and I watch my expanding group of friends, I feel like I’ve become part of a new family, one made up of more than just Cancrians. Diversity doesn’t weaken us—it binds us closer together. Numen and Qima come from opposite cultures, yet rather than being polarizing, their polar perspectives keep them in balance. This is what Black Moon will be like—a place where our inherited prejudices will fall away because we’ll have a chance to personally interact with people of every House.

Skarlet Thorne is right: The only way to combat the Marad’s violence is to replace the soldiers’ hate with hope. And tonight it feels like Black Moon is hope made tangible.

The festive orchestra starts to play their first slow number, and Gyzer and Ezra peel away to the dance floor. Mathias moves closer to me and murmurs, “Would you like to dance?”

Confused, I dart a glance at Pandora, who’s hovering near Nishi and Imogen but isn’t participating in the group conversation. She looks miserable.

“Sure,” I say, though I don’t sound it.

He leads me to the dance floor near the orchestra, and I slink a gold-gloved arm around his neck as he takes my other hand in his. Mathias’s fingers brush along my lower back, and he says, “I liked everything about this new Party until this ball. It feels more like a celebration of the old ways than the new.”

“Yeah,” I say, my mouth dry, “except we’re here with partners from different Houses. That would have never happened before.”

He goes quiet, withdrawing into his mind, but not in an injured way. Rather than looking lost, his eyes are focused, like he’s been doing a lot of thinking. “What do you imagine would have happened,” he whispers, his musical voice wistful, “if I’d spoken to you my last day of university?”

Picturing the scene and trying to envision a different outcome, at last I understand the true tragedy of Mathias and me.

We’re a couple of Cancrian clichés: More than our hearts, we’ve always trusted our fears. Even if we couldn’t help falling for each other, it was the decisions we made after we fell that mattered.

If either of us had dared to speak up any of those mornings in the solarium—if he hadn’t shut down my feelings on Equinox, if I hadn’t shut the airlock door on him on Firebird—today, we wouldn’t be these same people. The stars set us on the same path . . . but our choices diverted us.

This whole time, I’ve been trying to find my way back to those mornings on Elara when life was so simple and my feelings were so clear. But when the opportunity presented itself—when Mathias opened his heart to me on our way to Aquarius—I didn’t take it.

I may not like the thought of him being Pandora’s, but I haven’t claimed him for myself either.

When I look into Mathias’s midnight eyes again, I feel the decision taking over every cell in my body, even though there’s a small piece of my heart that hasn’t given its consent yet. There’s a part of me that will always love Mathias—but I’ve been hiding behind the memory of what I once felt for him to avoid admitting that I’m not in love with him anymore.

The truth is my heart already made the choice between Hysan and Mathias . . . my brain just didn’t want to hear it.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” murmurs Mathias, reeling me in a little closer. My feelings stick to my tongue, but they won’t become words yet. I don’t know how to say what needs to be said.

On Vitulus, Miss Trii told me that sometimes the best way to love someone is to let them go. So I inhale deeply and say, “I-I don’t think these feelings are real anymore, Mathias.” My voice has never sounded less mine. “I think they’re memories.”

He pulls away enough to look at me, and I see sadness swimming in his eyes, the same sadness I’m fighting down within myself.

But in the depths of that sadness, I think there’s also freedom.

We pull away before the song ends, and when we return to the others, Nishi comes over and links her elbow with mine. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, and there’s no point in answering because I feel a tear rolling down my cheek.

She pulls me in for a hug, and I rest my face against her collarbone, content just to breathe for a moment. My heart feels fragile, like it’s recovering from a major operation, so I keep a good distance from my feelings and try focusing on my inhales and exhales.

A few feet away Numen and Qima are filling Stan and Imogen in on news from their worlds, and Mathias and Pandora stand at opposite ends of the group, neither one looking at the other. An ornate golden tray of clear, fizzy drinks floats past, and Mathias takes one.

It’s amazing how he can be so attuned to my emotions and yet so deaf to his own. How can he not realize his feelings for Pandora are more than friendly? I hate to admit it, but Cancrians can be so hard shelled sometimes.

Nishi and I pull apart, and she squeezes my arm in encouragement as we rejoin the group. Eager not to cross gazes with Mathias or Pandora, I look up to the top of the grand staircase, where more couples are appearing on the upper balcony and descending into the ballroom. Among the new faces, I spot a stunning Ariean girl in a show-stopping red gown who looks familiar. As I squint at her warm, bronze-brown features, I recognize Skarlet.

Excitement flutters in my belly. Of course she’d be invited; she’s exactly the kind of rising leader the Tomorrow Party would be interested in wooing. I take a few steps toward the stairs to position myself close enough to talk to her, and I notice a man’s arm circling her waist. Curious to check out her date, I pan my gaze up to see his face.

And I shatter.

16

WHEN I SEE THE GOLDENhair and lively green eyes, everything seems to just stop.

The music.

The Zodiac.

My heart.

Sporting an immaculate white tuxedo and his trademark centaur smile, Hysan descends the staircase with Skarlet on his arm, commanding the attention of what feels like the entire ballroom.

“Breathe,” whispers Nishi, her hand gripping my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Rho—the Party invited him, but he never responded, so I figured he wasn’t coming. I didn’t see a point in bringing him up to you for no reason.”

My pulse is pounding so mightily that I’m scared my heart might be trying to break away from my body. If it keeps punching this hard, it’s going to crack open its cage.

“What do you want to do?” asks Nishi in my ear. But I can’t think, can’t answer her, can’t turn away from him as he moves in my direction.

“Rho, if you don’t want him to see you, maybe we should—”

“Wandering Star!”

I force myself to look away, and I see Blaze parting from his entourage to greet me, his date in tow. He’s donning a flashy, royal purple tuxedo, and as he comes closer, I notice the pair of pants is actually a floor-length skirt.

“You look luminous,” he says, planting whiskery kisses on my cheeks. His breath smells sweet; he’s been drinking the fizzy Aquarian cocktail everyone’s enjoying. Then he spots Nishi and roars, “By the muses! Is that Nishiko Sai?”

After kissing her smiling cheeks, he holds her hands in his. “You did a brilliant job organizing tonight.”

Nishi jokingly curtsies. “Why thank you.”

Blaze slides his arm around the waist of his date, a woman with short red locks. “This is my friend Geneva. Two years ago, at age nineteen, she became House Taurus’s youngest Promisary.”

Geneva rolls her eyes but smiles. “You keep talking like this and everyone will think my best years are behind me.”

Nishi and I shake hands with her, and my gaze strays to the faces beyond them as I search for Hysan again. He and Skarlet haven’t made it very far; they’re still near the foot of the staircase, and at least a dozen partygoers surround them. Laughter breaks out from their group, and I see other partiers ambling over to listen in.

“Don’t you think, Rho?”

I look at Nishi, whose eyebrows are nearly at her hairline. “I . . . sorry, what?”

She links elbows with me and spins me to face Blaze. “I was complimenting Blaze on his style. What do you think?”

“Yeah . . . I love the skirt,” I say, trying to smile. “How did you settle on this outfit?”

“I requested a room with a Lady’s Lounge, and when I tried on all the gowns and tuxedos in the archiver’s database, I thought this number looked best.” He speaks like he’s never owned an inhibition in his life.

Nishi and Geneva laugh, and in my periphery I notice a rippling in the crowd. Hysan and Skarlet are on the move again.

My temperature seems to rise with Hysan’s every step, and beads of sweat tickle my skull. Whatever I’m feeling, I’ve never felt it before. It’s like my brain has signaled my organs to self-destruct, and I worry that at any moment I’ll spontaneously combust.

“Well,” Nishi starts to say, her voice a pitch higher than usual, “Rho and I should probably—”

“Hysan Dax!”

When Blaze roars Hysan’s name, my heart stops so completely that I think it’s finally punched a hole big enough to escape my ribcage.

“Over here, playboy. You’re too busy to return my calls now?” Blaze brings Hysan in for a hug. “I’ve been trying to tell you about the Tomorrow Party for weeks!”

I glue my eyes to the white clouds on the floor, unable to look up from the foamy swirls.

“I’ve come to make it up to you.”

At the sound of the charm-filled voice, I give in and look up.

“That’s a start,” says Blaze, slinging an arm around Hysan’s neck. “Now come greet my other most important guest—I believe she’s a friend of yours.”

Blaze wheels him around, and Hysan sees me at last.

The instant his leaf-green eyes meet mine, solar systems are ignited inside me.

I feel frozen in place, my body buzzing from being back in Hysan’s orbit. As we stare at each other, I forget where I am, what I’m doing, why I’m here—I forget the whole Zodiac. And all I remember is the tingly feel of his electrifying touch. The Abyssthe-like taste of his confident kisses. The sunny brilliance of his beautiful mind.

He looks at once the same and completely changed. He’s still the best-dressed man in the room, but there’s a gravity in his gaze that makes the clothing seem like just a costume. It makes me think of the way light from far-flung stars takes billions of years to reach us, so that when we stare up, we’re seeing the star as it was and not as it is. While I know I’m seeing the real Hysan, I also know he isn’t this person anymore.

Nishi squeezes my arm, bringing me back to the ball, and as I blink back my stupor, I realize Hysan hasn’t reacted yet either. His eyes look as dazed as I feel.

“My . . .”—his voice falters, and he tries again—“My lady.”

He holds out his hand for the greeting, and I hesitate because I know what I’ll feel when he touches me, and then my heart will give me away. But Blaze and the others are all staring, so I start to extend my hand.

Suddenly, Nishi tugs on my arm. “Sorry, Hysan. I just spotted a potential donor we’re trying to court, and I’ll need my date’s help with the wooing!” And before I know what’s happening, she’s whisked me away.

“Where are we going?” I ask over the thudding of my heart. She pulls me along with her at such a swift pace that I’m tripping over my heels.

“You should be thanking me,” she says as we elbow our way through the crowd. “You two were like a couple of firebursts facing off—and Helios knows how flammable these Aquarian fabrics are!”

We go through a door marked “Lady’s Lounge” and enter a wide, mirrored space filled with velvet couches, sandstone tables, wallscreens, and refreshments. Even though the party just started, at least a dozen women—mostly Virgos and Scorps—are already draped over armchairs, their gown skirts crumpled and their up-dos loose, enjoying each other’s company.

Nishi finds us an unoccupied couch. “How are you?” she asks the moment our heels are off. Without giving me time to answer, she fires off more questions. “What was that dance with Mathias? And how about that tension with Hysan? Please start talking, or I’m just going to keep asking you more questions—”

“Mathias and I are . . . done,” I say, keeping my voice low so no one else can hear. “Seeing him with Pandora was painful, but . . . losing him felt more like letting go of the girl I’d once been, and a future I wanted to keep believing in.”

“And Hysan?” she asks gently.

I shake my head. “In another stunning display of my heart’s perfect timing, I just realized he’s the person I want to be with. I’m completely in love with him.”

Now she shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you Cancrians are pretty, because you’re dumb as a bag of nar-clams.” At my glare she shrugs unapologetically. “You love me because I’m honest.”

“I love you in spite of your honesty.” I’m annoyed that she’s being sarcastic when I’m in real pain; it’s not like her. Then again, she’s right. I have been dumb as a nar-clam.

“I’ve been such a coward, Nish.” I drop my head in my hands. “Not in the ways Charon said, but in my personal life. This whole time, I’ve been brave enough to risk my life but not my heart.”

She wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Rho, there’s no reason for you to feel this way. Hysan’s in love with you. That’s not something that changes from one month to the next. And if it has, then he wasn’t in love with you in the first place. But based on the tension I just witnessed between you, I don’t think that’s what happened. So cheer up.”

Her tone grows tougher as she goes on, like she’s flitting too close to doors she’s desperate to leave closed. Discussing my love life must make her think of her own; here I am dwelling on my feelings for a guy who’s just outside this room, while the man Nishi has loved her entire adolescence is gone forever.

“You have no reason to pout, Rho. So leave the dark thoughts in here, and then let’s go back out there and have some fun.” She grabs our heels from the floor and hands me mine. “I promise to keep an eye out so you don’t have to run into him again.”

I would much rather stay in here the rest of the night, but for Nishi’s sake I get to my feet. I can’t drown in my heartbreak now, not when her heart is barely hanging on.

•   •   •

When I leave the Lounge, I survey the ballroom for Stan and Mathias and the others, but by now the place is so crowded that it’s hard to find anyone. Every few steps we take, Nishi flags down another dignitary or Party member to introduce me to, and between the fear of running into Hysan and the stress of interacting with so many new people, I feel drunk on my emotions, even though I’ve yet to try the House’s fizzy drink of choice.

Eventually a round of dinner trays begin to float among us, and Nishi and I fill up on finger foods—porkling burgers, aquadile cakes, falcon poppers. While we’re talking to a group of Aquarian, Scorp, Geminin, and Capricorn dignitaries, I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around.

“Wandering Star,” says a dark-skinned, middle-aged woman with fine, short hair. She’s wearing a striking gown comprised of glossy green feathers.

I grow alert when I recognize the Taurian Guardian. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone from such a high level of government at this youthful soiree.

“It’s an honor to see you again, Fernanda—I mean, Chief Executive Purecell.”

“Fernanda is still fine.” She transfers the drink she’s holding to her other hand so she can reach out for the traditional Taurian handshake. “Are you joining the Tomorrow Party?”

“I think so.” As I say the words, a fantasy unfolds in my mind of Nishi and me living together in our own home on the Black Moon settlement, of Hysan and me dating out in the open, of Stan and Jewel marrying and starting a family—and I feel myself smile. “How about yourself?”

“I’m one of the Party’s financial backers.”

“Oh—I had no idea.” Strange that with everything going on in the Zodiac, she took the time to travel here for a ball.

“I think any movement that embraces inclusivity and choice deserves our consideration and support, don’t you?” The focus of her sharp eyes reminds me of the horned hawks on Tierre.

“Yes, and having your support will mean a lot down the line.” The more I think about it, the more I like the Tomorrow Party’s experimental approach to uniting our solar system. After all, it’s unlikely we’ll convince every House to drop its walls and start welcoming everyone at once, so this small-scale trial run is far more sensible.

Fernanda leans closer, and her terse, no-nonsense voice brings the ball back into focus. “Nobody knows yet, but the Plenum has convened a confidential, multi-House tribunal to investigate me and my ties to Risers. If found guilty, they’ll try me for treason.”

My drunken emotions sober fast. “Why?”

“Because I’ve spoken out in support of Risers? Because my father was a Riser?” She shakes her head. “Because, as you well know, those in power always need a new boogeyman. It’s how they stay in power.”

Chieftain Skiff comes to mind; the last time a Guardian shared a secret with me, strings were attached. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because if they ask you to testify to what I discussed with you in my office—about my correspondence with Risers—I need you to lie.”

I feel my face blanching, and I look around us to see if anyone’s listening. Nishi’s still entertaining the same group of diplomats, and everyone around us is engrossed in their own conversation. When I turn back to Fernanda, I barely move my lips as I form my answer. “Don’t you think this should be a more private discussion?”

“I don’t trust any quiet rooms that aren’t my own,” she says, taking a slow sip of her drink.

“Fernanda, I’m not a good liar. I want to help you, but even if I tried, they’d probably see right through me. And anyway, from everything you’ve told me, you’ve done nothing treasonous. The only thing they can blame you for is that you didn’t bring your concerns to them sooner, but you couldn’t have known—”

“The only thing they can blame me for?” she repeats, her voice sour. “Don’t you realize yet that they can do anything they want? You yourself are proof of that. They can sell any story they please, they can rewrite history, they can make me out to be the Marad’s master!”

“If the system is this broken, why didn’t you and the other Guardians try fixing it before the attack on Cancer?” I burst out, anger shooting through me.

“Who says I haven’t been?” she asks, and a flash of power surges through her dark features, a glimpse into her fearless core. “But a chemical reaction requires more than energy. It needs a catalyst.”

“You mean a sacrifice.”

There’s something new in her eyes tonight, a darkness I didn’t see on Vitulus. “On Cancer you believe the loss of one life is as unacceptable as the loss of ten thousand,” she says, and I nod. “But on Taurus we are team players, and we believe in making sacrifices for the greater good. I’m sorry for the people we’ve lost, but I can’t pretend something like this wasn’t bound to happen. You can’t crush an entire race of people and think you’ll hold on to power forever; Nature will balance herself out.”

I glare at her. “That doesn’t sound like balance. It sounds like a tug of war.”

“Are you saying no then? You won’t help me?”

I sigh. “I won’t lie. But I won’t betray your trust either.”

She quirks her head. “What then?”

“If they come around asking,” I say, the answer coming to me as I’m speaking, “I’ll tell them what we discussed was just between us. That’s all.”

Her expression is unreadable, so I don’t know if this is good or bad news to her. With her hawkish eyes and feathery dress, she looks more than ever like a bird of prey.

“You know,” she says, taking another slow sip of her drink. “I think we might make a politician out of you yet.”

17

WALKING AWAY FROM FERNANDA, I’Mthinking it’s definitely time to investigate the Aquarian drink situation.

Nishi’s circle of admirers has grown, and rather than rejoin her, I decide to hunt down one of the floating trays. She’s far better at the small-talk stuff than I am; I’d rather skip this kind of dullatry and go straight to working on the Black Moon project.

The ballroom is so packed that I can’t spot any drinks, so I edge toward the outskirts of the crowd to get a better vantage point, knocking into elbows and shoulders along the way. When I reach the white marble wall, there’s a massive, gold-embossed mirror where a handful of women are checking themselves out. Their chiffon and satin and velvet gowns are so puffy that they can’t get very close to the glass.

I stand near them as I scan the room for the glint of tall-stemmed glasses.

“You look like you’re on the hunt,” says a clear, confident voice to my left, and I look up to see statuesque Skarlet Thorne holding two drinks in her hands.

It seems impossible, but upclose she’s even more stunning. Her skin is a shimmering bronze brown that seems to produce its own light, her eyes are curved and cat-like, and the folds of her red silk dress roll off her like watery flames.

She offers me one of the glasses. “Thanks,” I say, taking it. “How’d you know this was what I was hunting?”

“I figured if it was a guy, you would have checked your lipstick first.”

I stare at her questioningly, then I lean over to peek at myself in a corner of the mirror. The red paint has mostly smudged off my mouth, probably from eating.

“I think we’re wearing the same shade.” She draws a red tube from a barely noticeable pocket in the folds of her dress. Beside us, competition for space in front of the mirror has intensified, and she says, “I’ve got you.”

She hands me her glass but holds onto the napkin that was wrapped around its stem. Then she takes my chin between her fingers. “Part your lips.”

Her cat eyes study my mouth as she paints my top lip. “I’m glad we’re getting this chance to meet because I think there’s a lot we can do together to improve the situation for Risers,” she says, moving on to my lower lip. “I heard that Chief Executive Purecell is here, too, and since she’s such a vocal Risers’ rights advocate, it could be even more effective if the three of us combine forces. If you want, I’ll get your information from the Party so we can get organized.”

She slips the napkin between my lips. “Blot.” Then she steps back and admires her work. “Perfect.”

“Thank you. And yes, I’d love that,” I say, handing back her drink. “I’ve been really inspired by how you’ve bridged the divisions of your House.”

She clinks her glass with mine. “Well, it’s an honor to inspire the woman who inspired me.” Then she takes a sip of her drink, and I bring mine to my lips.

The liquid’s sweet fizz seems to invade my mouth, eyes, and nose all at once, and I cough a couple of times. To cover my mortification, I take a long sip. The drink is a mix of fruits I’ve never tasted before, and another flavor that’s familiar but I can’t place.

“I met Corinthe.”

The sweetness sours, and I nearly choke on it. “W-what? How?”

“She and the other Risers are being held in The Bellow on planet Phaet.” It’s the highest security prison in the Zodiac. “Since she’s the only soldier without a mask, most interrogations are directed at her, but she hasn’t spoken yet. The Majors felt since I’ve been advocating for Risers’ rights, and since I’ve been effective at addressing our people, I might stand a better chance.”

My mouth suddenly dry, I ask, “Did she . . . talk to you?”

“No—but I’m the only one who’s elicited a reaction from her.” Skarlet leans a little closer, and I catch a whiff of a spicy, floral scent that makes me think of a field of firebursts. “I did it by mentioning you.”

The glass slips a little in my fingers. “Me?”

“I asked if she’d rather talk to you.” The Ariean’s gaze trails down my gloved arm, where my scars are hiding, then flicks back to my face.

“And she smiled.”

I take another sip of my drink to drown the visual of Corinthe’s leering smile. As if she could see what I’m thinking, Skarlet adds, “She’s finished her transition. Want to know what House she’s in now?”

Somehow, I know before she says it.

“Cancer.”

So the person who doesn’t believe in love now looks like she belongs in the House of love. I can’t imagine a worse punishment for Corinthe.

“Actually . . .” Skarlet scrutinizes my face closely. “She looks a lot like you.”

My left arm suddenly starts to boil. I rub it against my dress to calm my skin, as the thought of Corinthe wearing my face burns me from the inside.

“Strange, isn’t it?” whispers Skarlet.

“What’s strange?”

Her fireburst scent grows stronger, like she’s about to spark. “The stars’ sense of humor.”

She walks away before I can say anything, leaving me to stare after her as she goes. And I’m not the only one looking.

Heads turn wherever Skarlet passes: She’s like a blaze of fire you want to keep your eyes on at all times in case the wind changes direction, and her flames blow your way.

•   •   •

When I find Nishi again, she clutches my arm. “There you are! Let’s go! It’s speech time!”

I run with her to the grand staircase, and we come to a stop next to Blaze and Geneva and the rest of his entourage. “Oh, good, you’re here,” he says, seeing Nishi. “Stay close.”

“I will.”

Blaze hands his date his drink, then hitches his purple skirt up on one side so he can climb to the middle of the staircase. At his signal, the orchestra stops playing, and in the absence of music, everyone looks around.

“Welcome, trailblazers!”

His voice comes from all corners of the room, and I notice a small volumizer—a black ball that’s a sound amplifier—hovering in the air near his head. He waits for the wild cheering and clapping to calm down before speaking again.

“Everyone who came here tonight is a pioneer of a new tomorrow. A different tomorrow. A united tomorrow. One that looks like this.” We look up to see holographic captures materializing in the air above us.

All the images are of the party attendees as we descended into the ballroom, each of us walking alongside a person from a different House. Mossy-eyed Virgos with dark-haired Sagittarians with tawny-skinned Geminin with broad-faced Leonines with athletically built Arieans and so on. No divisions among the Houses.

“If you’re here, you’ve heard me give plenty of speeches already, so I’m going to cede the floor to someone far more eloquent than myself. But first, I would like to give special thanks to a few guests who—despite everything going on in the Zodiac—still made it a priority to come here tonight and support our cause. Chief Executive Purecell, Wandering Star Rhoma Grace, and, of course, our guest of honor, whose hospitality we’re testing tonight, Ambassador Crompton.”

The room breaks into applause as Blaze steps down, and Ambassador Crompton climbs the stairs. When they meet, Blaze and Crompton trade the hand touch and then the Ambassador turns to face us.

I hear Nishi and Blaze murmuring as he returns to our group, but I’m not paying attention. I just spotted Hysan in the crowd.

He’s standing with Skarlet to the other side of the staircase, and she’s whispering something in his ear. My gaze lingers on how his hand hangs off her hip, and I take another sip of the sugary drink. Almost immediately, I start to feel a little lightheaded.

“Thank you, Lionheart Blaze, for this generous invitation to address tomorrow’s leaders. I am honored to be honored by you.” Crompton bows in our direction, toward Blaze. “I’ve thought a lot about what possible wisdom I could impart to such a talented group. What can I offer you in return for awarding me this distinction?”

My gaze keeps straying to Hysan. Each time I look over I feel like his eyes have just been on me. And yet he seems so completely immersed in whatever Skarlet’s telling him that it seems impossible his sight would have strayed, even for a second.

“Assurance.”

Ambassador Crompton’s voice booms through the space, bringing my attention back to him. “There is nothing humans fear more than change, and that is why, from here on out, you are going to face profound opposition. The best thing I can try to give you before you set off is assurance that what you’re doing is worth doing. That you are not living your life in vain.”

The whole ballroom has gone silent, and I’m happy to see even Skarlet has stopped talking.

“Helios forgive me, for I am an Aquarian!” Laughter breaks out across the room at Crompton’s cry. “And as a Philosopher I must beg you to allow me this moment to philosophize.”

His pink eyes shine brightly, reflecting the room’s colors back to us. “Why are we crawling one year and walking the next? Why is it that one birthday we’re asking our parents for toys, but the next we want an Ephemeris? Why does a shirt that fits us today not fit us tomorrow? Because we are ever-changing organisms. We were not meant to be static. Change is the universe’s only currency, and that is why it is futile to stand against progress, for evolution will always prevail.”

Clapping breaks out, and Crompton waits for it to die down completely before continuing. “So why do we fear our own growth?”

He takes a long pause as he pans his gaze across the room, like a teacher waiting for a brave student to raise her hand. “Because in order to change, we must relinquish control; we must momentarily lose ourselves. And in those moments, anything is possible—the best of us or the worst.

“When we’re younger, we leap across this divide with ease, eager to see what the next year brings. Yet as we grow older, we begin to fear the pain of the changing process, and we worry more and more about the person we will become on the other side. So we claw onto time, trying to keep it from ticking onward and moving us forward—and in doing this, we stunt our personal evolution.”

The place is so silent that he could be whispering and we would still hear him.

“Somewhere along the way,” he continues, “our misguided hubris hitched human pride to humanity’s progress. That is why you face such steep opposition. Because if you succeed in designing a stronger, better, fairer system, you will be the founding parents of the new world. The old thinkers will be displaced as flawed philosophers from an earlier era, caged within the confines of the past, falling further from relevance.

“So I want to use this moment to assure you that your work here is important. What you’re doing reminds us that while the past must be remembered, it cannot come at the cost of the future. Change keeps our species alive, and that is why we must shed our fear and allow ourselves—and our solar system—to grow with the times. Our eyes are in the front of our heads because what’s coming ahead means more than what we’re leaving behind. Where we’re going means more than where we came from. And as we say on Aquarius, Only when we let go of today will we be living in tomorrow.”

I set my now empty glass on the floor and join the others in a round of applause. It’s a while before our clapping dies down, and Crompton looks less comfortable accepting our praise than he did speaking. Eventually, he holds his hands up to signal us to stop.

My vision has gone blurry from drinking, and when I look at Hysan, I can no longer make out his features.

“And speaking of tomorrow,” says Crompton, “I have been asked to welcome to the stage the Tomorrow Party’s new co-captain, who will help Lionheart Blaze lead you into a hopeful new morning—Nishiko Sai of House Sagittarius.”

I turn to Nishi with wide eyes, and she grins at me, her amber irises filled with light. “I found out earlier but wanted to keep it a surprise!” she squeals.

Wrapping her in a huge hug I say into her ear, “I’m so proud of you, Nish.”

Blaze offers her his arm and escorts Nishi up the steps to where Crompton is standing. They trade the hand touch, and then he descends, leaving Nishi with the room’s attention. Watching her up there, my heart bursts with pride. After all she’s endured these past few months, Nishi has found herself and her place in the Zodiac.

“I’m going to keep this short,” she says, her voice carrying across the room. “First, I need to thank Ambassador Crompton on behalf of everyone present for that incredibly inspiring speech.” The room claps in solidarity, but tamps down quickly. “I also want to thank the incomparable Blaze Jansun for bringing us together for such a magnificent cause. And on a personal note, for trusting me to help bring his revolutionary vision to life.”

People applaud again, and I’m awed by the graceful ease with which Nishi handles having hundreds of eyes on her. There’s something comforting about the scene in front of me; it feels good being in the background again while Nishi takes center stage.

“Finally, I want to thank the person who means the most to me and whose courage inspired my own.” I feel Nishi’s gaze cut across to me, and, astounded, I stare back at her semi-blurry face. “Wandering Star, thank you for reminding us that we are not powerless, that we are the future. You sacrificed so much when you set out to warn the Houses about Ophiuchus, and you risked your life when you went out in that Wasp to bait him, and then you put yourself on the line again when you faced the Marad.

“By refusing to compromise your beliefs, you proved to everyone that we all have access to a powerful weapon, one that can change worlds with a single sound: our voice. By standing up, and speaking out, and refusing to go quietly, you showed us how change gets done.”

I feel everyone’s eyes on me as they clap, and my cheeks heat with color.

“Our system only exists because we subscribe to it; and that means we have the power to change it. The people making the rules today won’t be the ones inhabiting our solar system tomorrow—but we will. Don’t we deserve a say in what kind of worlds we want to inherit?”

As we break into more applause, a flicker of white-blond hair catches my eye. An Aquarian woman who seems familiar somehow is a few feet away, but I can’t see her face. I keep looking between her and Nishi, waiting for the chance to glimpse her features.

When at last she turns to talk to the person next to her, I hazily trace high ivory cheekbones and brilliantly blue eyes.

Everything goes still inside me.

Mom.

18

MY BODY IS AN ECHOchamber for my heart, and all I hear are its thudding beats.

I start moving closer to the woman, my skin clammy and mind blank, and as her features sharpen, I realize it’s not my mother.

The shock wears off slowly, and as the warmth of my relief lifts the cold from my skin, I decide I’m done drinking for the night.

The orchestra starts playing again, and Nishi descends the stairs to another round of applause. She’s immediately bombarded by people who want to offer their congratulations, and soon they pull me into the celebration. We trade the hand touch with what feels like hundreds of people, and I scan their faces for Stanton or Mathias, but they don’t show up. This kind of ball isn’t a very Cancrian scene, so they’re probably in a corner somewhere, hanging with a smaller crowd.

Once Nishi and I extricate ourselves from her admirers, I draw her to a quieter area to give her another hug. “You were extraordinary!”

Her cinnamon cheeks are rosy, her eyes bright. A silver tray of clear drinks floats past us, and she swipes a couple of glasses. “To us!” We clink them together, and she takes a huge swig.

“I think one drink was enough for me,” I say without tasting mine. “How can you have so much of this stuff when the alcohol is so strong?”

“There’s no alcohol in it,” she says, after polishing hers off. “It’s called a Spacey Spritzer. It’s spiked with Abyssthe.”

“Abyssthe?”

“It’s only a few drops. Since it comes with no hangover, Aquarians prefer it to alcohol. It’s only supposed to make you feel a little floaty, nothing more.”

“Then why is it making me . . . see things?”

Nishi’s up-do is starting to fall, and flyaway strands of hair fold over her forehead. “It affects people differently based on their tolerance. Since the best seers naturally draw more Psynergy to themselves, they feel it more, so—yeah, actually, you’re right. You’ve definitely had enough.”

She reaches for my drink, only I’m no longer sure I want to give it up. Maybe my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. Maybe when I thought I saw Mom, I was Seeing an omen.

“Nishi!” Imogen runs up to us and gives Nishi a huge hug. “You were perfect!” A string of prospective Party members are with her, and while they introduce themselves to Nishi, I draw away to consider the glass in my hands.

I haven’t had any luck finding signs of Mom in the Ephemeris, and I have no other leads. So why not try a little more of this Spritzer and see what I can See? Besides, it’s not like anyone needs me right now. Nishi has found her place, Mathias and Pandora have found each other, and Stan is once more nowhere to be found.

I sneak up beside Nishi and say into her ear, “I’m going to look around, see if I can find Stan. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Wave my Tracker if I’m not here,” she says, and I nod, not bothering to point out that I didn’t bring my Wave with me.

Sipping the fizzy, fruity Spritzer, I edge along the room’s outer perimeter where it’s less crowded. Though obviously old, this room somehow seems newer than the rest of the castle, more pristine. Maybe it’s just been used less often.

I cross under the static-charged staircase to the other side of the marble ballroom where fewer people are gathered. My sight grows shakier the more I drink, as if the molecules of oxygen around me have transformed into erratic Psynergy.

Spying a whirl of blond hair ahead, I speed up to see a blurry woman in a white dress turning a corner.

I chase after her until I reach the far end of the room, but there’s nowhere to turn. She disappeared into the wall.

Heart racing, I step back to survey the gold-and-silver-streaked marble, and I spy a faint, shadowy archway. But when I touch it, I only feel cold stone.

I look around me to make sure no one is watching, then I trace the designs in the stone with my finger, trying to find a hidden key. Soon I start to feel a strange pull toward whatever lies on the other side of the wall, and my body hums with curiosity to get through it.

Instinct seems to be whispering instructions to me, and, remembering that Abyssthe is strongest when first taken, I swallow what’s left of my drink and concentrate on the archway in the wall.

My Ring finger buzzes as I pull in Psynergy to Center myself, and slowly the shaded archway begins to darken.

I touch it again.

Immediately I’m transported to something that looks like the shadow world of the Collective Conscious, only I don’t see the Psynergy signatures of other Zodai. I can’t see or feel my body, and panic spreads through my thoughts as I sense someone’s Eye on me, like I’m being examined and my identity is being confirmed.

Suddenly the castle reappears around me, only now I’m inside a cold sandstone hall, and the music from the party sounds faint. This must be some kind of advanced security measure, like the drop with Engle on Scorpio.

My knees are too shaky to risk moving, so I stand still as I cast my gaze along the tall empty space. I must be on the other side of the marble.

“Untara warned you this morning not to do this.”

My heart shoots into my mouth at the sound of a man’s voice. It seems to be coming from right behind me, only when I spin around, no one’s there.

“You already knew she was upset about the Tomorrow Party coming to the castle. She meant for our House’s endorsement to be symbolic, not practical.”

I scan the dim, dusty chamber again, and this time I notice a spiral staircase at the far end of the place where a long, thin beam of light spills down the steps. For a moment I keep still, torn between spying and going back to the ballroom.

“She didn’t want some silly youthful movement staining our ancient walls, and—”

“As Ambassador it is my right to recognize new leaders and movements.”

At the sound of Crompton’s voice, I make my choice. I pad quickly toward the stairs and peek up at the spiraling steps.

Maybe it’s the Spacey Spritzer, or maybe Skiff was right and I’m not just Cancrian anymore. But I’m tired of being taken by surprise by the people I want to trust. If Crompton is duplicitous, I need to know.

“Please, sir,” I hear the other man say. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

“I’m grateful for your concern,” says Crompton, his voice warm yet firm, “but engaging in new conversations and exploring different viewpoints is the soul of Philosophy. Since when does House Aquarius not welcome new ways of thinking and leading? What happened to our revered Guardian Aquarius’s immortal words, Man needs a brain to live, but a mind to be alive?”

I climb up the stairs as slowly as possible. Thankfully, the dust in the space muffles the sound of my heels.

“I’m not disagreeing with you on philosophical grounds,” says the other man, his words taking on a pleading tone. “But Untara isn’t happy. You knew the Wandering Star’s presence hadn’t gone unnoticed, nor the fact that you agreed to be this event’s guest of honor. And yet, despite her warnings, you went through with it!”

The first door I come across is ajar, and the room beyond it is dark, so I continue climbing up. “They’re kids, Crompton. They’re only going to be a distraction at a time when the Zodiac’s focus should be on stopping this Riser army and finding the person in charge of them. This group will be painting a target on their heads when they go public with this nonsense, and mark my words, the Marad will come after them for daring to bring hope to the Houses. That’s how terrorism works.”

I freeze midway to the next floor. The door is open just a slit, and the line of light guiding my way is coming from in there, as are the two men’s voices.

“So you would sacrifice our galaxy’s hope for the sake of a sense of safety?” asks Crompton, somehow sounding both patient and frustrated. “Even when that safety is only an illusion? I understand and even share your fear, Pollus, but if we let that feeling rule us, then we have already let the terrorists win. The truth is that hope is the most powerful weapon in our arsenal . . . and recent events prove that change is necessary to achieve it.”

“What I heard you saying tonight didn’t sound like change,” says the other man—Pollus—cautiously. “It sounded like revolution.”

There’s a long silence, and then Crompton says, “That is your fear speaking again, Pollus, and it does you a disservice. The system isn’t perfect, and it doesn’t help us to pretend otherwise. Do you know what Rhoma Grace told me yesterday? She never agreed to the declaration of Peace. In fact, she believes the Marad is still very much a threat. And yet when I suggested to the Plenum that we invite her to give testimony before making Peace official, I was told there was no need because she’d already signed on. Does this sound like a system worth preserving?”

Pollus sighs loudly, and I hear him pacing the floor. “Do you realize what’s happening? They made you the face for the Peace declaration, just as they made you the face for crowning that girl as the Wandering Star. They’re using you just as they used her. You’re the newest member and, frankly, you’re too trusting. And now they’re setting you up so that when everything backfires, you can become their scapegoat!”

“If you’re right, that’s all the more reason to support change!”

“I do!”says the other man, raising his voice to Crompton for the first time. “But I’m trying to look out for you, too. We both know Untara feels threatened by you.”

“But why?” asks Crompton, sounding like he’s finally found a question he can’t answer. “Have you asked yourself that?”

“She’s jealous of your talent, and she worries if you challenge her to a duel in the astral plane, you might actually win, making you the rightful Supreme Advisor to the Guardian. She’s afraid you’re the better seer.”

“Or,” says Crompton, his voice so low I have to strain my ears, “maybe there’s just something she’s afraid I’ll See.”

“Listen to me. You have to go to her right away and apologize; she’s probably already heard your speech, and she’ll use it as grounds to—”

“That’s enough.”

Crompton’s voice is still kind, but it carries an irrefutable finality. “I am grateful for your friendship and honored by the depth of your concern. But I will look out for myself.”

I see the door opening, and as more light spills out, I dart away quickly, slipping through the open door on the first floor and hiding in the dark room.

I hold my breath as Crompton and the other man climb down the stairs. And as my heart hammers in my chest, the same phrase circles through my mind: Maybe there’s just something she’s afraid I’ll See.

•   •   •

I tail them back out through the archway quietly, keeping a careful distance. On the other side of the wall, the party is over. The orchestra has stopped playing, and as the crowd funnels up the staircase to exit the ballroom, the hum of their conversations sounds like ocean waves that are becoming more distant.

Crompton and Pollus walk toward the staircase side by side, the latter still speaking surreptitiously while Crompton busies himself drinking a Spritzer.

“Ambassador!”

They turn around. “Wandering Star!” says Crompton warmly, and from the sound of his voice, I think he’s relieved to have a reason to leave Pollus’s side. Pollus, on the other hand, looks incensed by my approach, and he turns on his heel and strides off.

“You look lovely,” says Crompton, giving me a low bow. His pink eyes are aglow with the Abyssthe in his system, and now that he’s away from Pollus’s warnings, he seems pleasantly buzzed and pleased with tonight’s event.

“Thank you. Your speech was fantastic. And it meant a lot to the Tomorrow Party that you even agreed to speak here tonight. I mean, it’s like you said, progress always has its opponents, right? And I’m sure you dealt with your own share of difficulties when you agreed to do this . . . didn’t you?”

I’m hoping the drink dulled his senses enough not to notice the lack of subtlety in my fishing expedition.

“Oh, I’m not worried; everything will work out,” he says, smiling merrily. “It’s in the nature of a disagreement to want to resolve itself.”

His optimism reminds me of when I was Guardian, before the Plenum stripped me of my title. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks.

“Yeah, this has been great, thank you.” Unwilling to give up so easily, I say, “I thought maybe I’d see the Supreme Advisor here tonight. You know, since I saw her in your office this morning.”

“Untara?” Crompton laughs. “That woman couldn’t find tomorrow on a calendar!” His expression tightens as he realizes what he’s said, and his eyes grow more alert. “I didn’t mean that, of course—”

“It’s okay,” I say, smiling. “She didn’t seem like the most . . . progressive person.”

“That she is not,” agrees Crompton, though he still looks concerned by his own behavior. He sets his drink down on a golden tray of empty glasses floating past. “So much talk of tomorrow has got me acting like it’s yesterday,” he says, chuckling at his own joke, “but I’m not a young man anymore.”

“Ambassador, why is the Plenum pretending the Marad isn’t a threat?” Judging by my boldness, maybe I’m still under the Abyssthe’s influence, too.

Crompton stares at me, his face sobering fast. “I don’t think that’s true—”

But he cuts himself off, like his heart isn’t in the excuse, and he sighs, pinning me with a particularly paternal stare. “Rho, be careful. If they don’t think you’re with them, you know better than anyone what can happen.”

Funny how he’s giving me the same advice he himself refused to take from Pollus. “But why are they willfully blinding themselves?”

“Because they have no progress to offer their people, and the longer we extend the purgatory period of waiting for the next attack, the further morale falls among the Houses. It doesn’t mean Zodai aren’t still searching for signs of the army. But surely you’d agree that Pisces takes precedence over everything at this moment?”

“Of course.”

He looks abruptly behind me, and when I turn I see Nishi coming up to us; beyond her the ballroom has almost cleared out.

“Hi, Ambassador,” says Nishi. “Thank you again for your amazing speech.”

“Same to you,” he says, bowing to Nishi. “Watching you speak tonight, I saw a brilliant career ahead of you, Nishiko. My door will always be open—to the both of you—for anything you need.”

As soon as he goes, Nishi turns to me. “Party’s over, but there’s an after party. I need to go finalize a few details first. But don’t move from this spot!”

The instant she darts off to confer with other Party members, my brother appears. From his exact timing it seems like he’s been waiting for me to be alone. “We need to talk,” he says in a low voice.

“Where are Mathias and Pandora?” I ask, scanning the mostly empty ballroom for a sign of them.

“I saw the two of them leaving a while ago,” he says, and the stab of those words cuts less deeply than I’d have expected. “I’ve been eavesdropping on a lot of people tonight, Rho, and there’s stuff about the Party that Blaze and Nishi didn’t mention.”

“You’re eavesdropping?” I ask loudly, even though I’ve just returned from doing the same thing. “Stan, seriously, you have to stop being so cynical about everything. It’s not like you, and it’s changing you into someone you’re not.”

“Listen to me.” He grips my arm. “All their talk about unity and acceptance was a load of crap. Black Moon is actually as elitist and exclusionary as it gets.” He gestures to our surroundings. “You saw the people who came tonight. Only the richest, or best educated, or most talented members of the Zodiac were invited.”

“Stan, tonight was about raising funds and attracting attention to the Party. That has nothing to do with who’s going to the new settlement. That project is still top secret, remember?”

“Well people are talking about it.” Stan’s voice is tighter and lower.

“I don’t believe that people would be openly discussing it. Nishi wouldn’t have waited to bring me all the way here to tell me about Black Moon if it was something that could be discussed casually at a party.”

He rolls his eyes in frustration and pulls something out of his tuxedo pocket. It looks like a metal Scorpion. “What’s that?” I ask, thinking of the Crawler device that organizes a Scorp’s thoughts.

“It’s what I stole from Link that got him so ticked off.”

“What you stole?” The Scarab around my wrist seems to tighten, reminding me that this is my second hypocritical statement in under two minutes.

“After I broke my Wave, I told Engle I wanted to buy a new communication device and asked if he’d show me some Scorp tech so I could decide what to get. But he said there was no point, since Cancrian money is no longer accepted. So I decided to try the line on someone stupider instead.

“Link was thrilled to invite me to his quarters to boast about his favorite gadgets. But since most of them operate on DNA or fingerprint technology, they were useless to me. Except for the Echo.”

Stan holds up the device, and I notice small red dots on the scorpion’s shell. “At one point Tyron came in to tell Link something, and I pretended to be eavesdropping so they’d move their conversation outside. Since I’d seen where he stored the Echo, it was pretty easy to slip it into my pocket.”

I shake my head, unable to process that my brother has become a thief. And worse, a remorseless one. “Stan, I don’t like how you’re acting. This isn’t you—”

“You can program specific keywords into a holographic menu,” he says, barreling past my concerns, “and when you activate the device, it scans every electronic transmission within a specific radius and echoes back any mentions of your keywords.”

“Stan—”

“Rho, listen. There are lists being passed around among top Party donors. They’re the names of the members of each House chosen for Black Moon. They’re guaranteeing people spots in exchange for financial sponsorship and political favors.”

My heart outracing my thoughts, I whisper, “You have to stop this.”

This isn’t my brother. What if everything we’re going through affects him on a soul-deep level—would that trigger some kind of Ophiuchan gene? No one really understands how or why Risers Rise . . . but if Mom was a Riser, that means Ophiuchan blood runs in our veins. So if Stan twists his soul too far, is it possible his body could assume a new shape?

“Stan, even if you have your doubts about the Party, you can at least trust Nishi,” I say, making my voice as reassuring as I can. “She would never be part of an elitist and exclusionary organization, and she investigates everything, so you can be sure she’s vetted these guys.”

Stan just shakes his head, and it feels like for the first time in our lives, we’re not understanding each other. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Nishi isn’t herself right now. She’s not thinking clearly. She just lost the love of her life, and she’s acting like he never even existed. Does that sound healthy to you?”

“She’ll face her pain when she’s ready, but that doesn’t mean she’s had a personality transplant. Whether or not she’s suffering, Nishi would never stand for a discriminatory system of any kind.” I flash back to a picture of the three of us on Equinox just a couple of months ago, dreaming of Nishi and Deke’s future children. “She’s doing this for Deke, to create the kind of world they wanted for their kids. She’s mourning him her own way.”

“Think about it, though,” pleads my brother. “The Tomorrow Party must have made promises to most people here. Otherwise, how did a bunch of young, open-minded kids like Nishi pull this off? How did they afford the ship we flew here on? They’re showing a lot of money—”

“They have sponsors, people with means, like the Guardian of Taurus.”

“Actually,” he says, his voice dipping further, “I have something to tell you about her—”

“Okay, let’s go to the conservatory!” announces Nishi, interrupting us, and Stan doesn’t finish his sentence. Ezra and Gyzer come up behind Nishi.

“I’m heading to bed,” says my brother, and he takes off without another word. Nishi looks at me curiously, but I shake my head so she won’t ask.

I’m not sure whether to chase after him or stay with her, and as if she knows what I’m thinking, Nishi says, “Come to the after party! You can talk to your brother in the morning.”

Ezra suddenly raises her mahogany face to us, her eyes wide with a hopeful expression. “Somebody say after party?”

•   •   •

The castle’s conservatory is a grassy park with a giant garden attached, and the whole place is encased in glass walls. The Aquarian sky above is heavy and black, but small lights are strung along the glass ceiling, showering the place in a subtle, starlit glow. The lights remind me a bit of the gills from Sconcion’s waterworlds.

About a hundred people gather on a field filled with high tables and lined with Spacey Spritzers. On the grass are fluffy blankets covered with baskets of finger foods, and those partygoers who aren’t standing by a table are lounging on the blankets in their formalwear, snacking and drinking like they’re at the world’s fanciest picnic.

“There’s Blaze!” says Nishi, spotting him with Geneva and half a dozen others, sharing an aqua blanket. She heads over to where he is, and Ezra and Gyzer go with her, but I hang back and stare out at the overgrown garden that looms just beyond the park.

A stone path disappears into the foliage, and I follow it to the towering plants. In the garden’s mouth is a collection of silver benches where a couple dozen partygoers have gathered. I consider cutting past them to stroll through the greenery, but since this golden dress isn’t very inconspicuous, odds are I’ll get roped into someone’s conversation. Maybe I should just join Nishi.

When I’m turning to go, I spy a glimmer of gold amid the green.

Hysan is leaning against a bench talking to a small group of people, wearing a lazy smile that says he’s probably tired but having too much fun to go to bed. I don’t see Skarlet nearby.

Before I’ve decided what to do, he spots me.

We stare at each other across dozens of partygoers for I don’t know how long. His hair is tousled, and his bowtie is askew, but the more he comes undone, the more handsome he becomes.

I watch him excuse himself from the others, and then he comes over to where I’m standing. He stops a few feet away, leaving a devastating buffer between us.

As he takes me in, I flash back to the other times we’ve met at parties, and I realize how much I love the way he looks at me. He makes me feel like I can be more than I am—like I could be anyone I’ve ever dreamt of becoming.

I think that’s what scares me most about him.

“That’s quite a dress,” he says, without offering me his hand for the traditional greeting. “How are you, Rho?”

I want to answer his question, but I can’t summon my voice. Words are funneling together in my throat, fighting each other to come out, and I wish I really had a Crawler to help me sort through them.

“I’m . . .”

There’s a weird creak in my voice, and I stare down at the stone path I’m standing on, mortified to hear it. Even worse, Hysan hears it, too, because he shifts his weight on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say.

And I so badly want to stop there, but the buildup of words has reached a critical mass, and before I can seal everything in, a flood of feelings gushes out of me.

“I hate not speaking to you. I know it’s my fault things got to this point, but I really miss you. If there’s anything I can do to make things right between us, I want to try. I can’t apologize enough for how blind I’ve been, and how cruelly I’ve behaved. You’re right—I was afraid—but I’m not anymore.”

I take a couple of careful steps forward, closing the distance between us. “And even if it’s too late”—my voice dips now that we’re closer—“I need to say this.” Gazing deeply into his lively green eyes, I feel myself sinking into my Center. Like I’m looking at my new home.

“I’m in love with you, Hysan. Only you.”

His eyes brighten and widen, and I move in, lured by the familiar cedary scent caressing my skin. I spy his gaze sweeping over my lips and the low cut of my dress, and I’m millimeters from his mouth when he murmurs, “Rho . . . I can’t.”

I feel the color drain from my face, and my chest caves with the weight of my mortification. I back away too quickly and trip on a stone, nearly toppling over.

Hysan steps forward like he’s ready to catch me if I fall. “What I mean is, I’m here with Skarlet.”

“Right . . . of course you are. I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me—”

“I should probably go,” he says, shoving his hands into his white tux’s pockets. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, my lady.”

As he walks away from me, I feel like he’s taking my whole world with him. I can’t believe how badly I’ve messed up. I’m a joke—a Cancrian who’s an absolute failure at love.

I press my hand to my stomach because I feel like I’ve just lost a vital organ, one I’m not sure I can survive without.

Then my finger buzzes with Psynergy, and Hysan’s voice cuts through my pain.

Meet me in the entrance hall in thirty?

19

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I’M STANDINGin the dim and seemingly ceiling-less entrance hall with its stained glass constellations shining overhead. Nishi was so excited for me when I told her what happened that she practically kicked me out of the after party so that I wouldn’t get lost and show up late.

I feel Hysan before I hear him; now that I’m not fighting against my feelings, I can sense him more clearly. Something changes about a room when he enters it.

Though it’s been a long night, he still looks like a work of art. I study his windswept golden locks, sparkling emerald eyes, and wrinkled white tux; and as he gets closer, I notice he’s carrying a black coat on his arm.

“Want to get out of here?” he asks when he’s in front of me.

“And go where?”

He holds the coat open, and I slide my arms into the warm sleeves. Then he approaches the castle doors and beams a schematic out from his Scan. A moment later one of the doors pops open.

“Are you allowed to do that?” I whisper.

He steps out to the sandy plaza with its rushing waterfalls, and when he looks at me, that irresistible centaur smile tugs on his lips and dimples his cheeks and lights up the Aquarian night.

“You scared, Grace?”

Grinning back I say, “You’re dreaming, Dax.”

I slip off my heels, drop them into the coat’s oversized pockets, and join him outdoors. It’s nice to feel sand under my bare feet again, and I’m surprised to find it’s not freezing.

“They keep it toasty for the Pegazi,” says Hysan, observing me. He locks the door again, and then we stroll around the palace’s perimeter and alongside the waterfalls.

“Where are we going?”

“This castle was constructed by the planet’s first settlers, and Aquarians have built so many secret additions over the millennia that it’s unlikely anyone knows it completely. So whenever I visit, I like discovering something new—”

“I found something tonight!” I say suddenly, cutting him off. “In the ballroom, there was this archway—”

“The thirteenth tower,” he says, turning to me eagerly. “I saw it, too!”

“The what?”

“It’s because of you the Aquarian Royal Guard discovered it.” His golden skin glows with excitement, and his eyes seem to take up even more space than usual. “When the House’s Elders considered your story about Ophiuchus, they realized if it was true, there must be a thirteenth tower in the palace. But since there’s no thirteenth turret jutting from the castle top, they had to assume most of the tower had been demolished, and it was a matter of locating its base, which had to have been sealed off. I hear that when they finally found it, they worked for weeks to get through its security measures.”

“So how did I get through tonight?”

“You went inside?” When I nod, Hysan’s gaze grows distant, a line forming between his eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“How’d you get in?”

“I thought I’d hijacked the code,” he says, shrugging, “but maybe I didn’t.” He falls deep into thought for a few strides before he says, “Maybe the person who sealed off the tower programmed a loophole that allows access to anyone with a Guardian’s astrological fingerprint. But we’d need a third Guardian to test the theory.”

“Well, while I was in there, I overheard something,” I say, relating Crompton’s conversation with Pollus.

When I’ve finished, Hysan says, “I’m not surprised there’s dissent. Morscerta came from a traditionalist school of thought, but Crompton is younger and idealistic and far more progressive than anyone who’s held his role in recent history. The past few decades, divisiveness among the six Clans has intensified, so this House has been headed for a political shake-up for a while now. Though I agree it’s bad cosmic timing.”

“What do you think of the Tomorrow Party?” I don’t mean to barrage him with questions, but there are few things I enjoy more than hearing Hysan’s mind at work.

“I think Blaze always has a cause,” he says, sounding like he hasn’t committed to an opinion yet. “I don’t know much about the Party, so you can fill me in if you’d like. Mostly I’ve been concerned with what’s happening on Pisces. I sent a team of Knights to work with Stridents on planetoid Naute to study the virus and try reversing its effects. I also sent Miss Trii to help Prophet Marinda, since as an android she can’t contract anything. Neith has been called to attend so many emergency meetings that he’s perpetually running on low charge; I had to take him away from Libra just to apply updates and sync him with ’Nox.”

He sounds like he’s relieved to be able to share all these things with someone, and it hits me how much harder our period of not speaking must have been on him. At least I had friends by my side—Hysan can only talk this openly with me.

The heaviness of House Pisces wraps us in sad silence until we round the castle corner, and a whole new vista is revealed. A man-made lake runs the length of the palace, and across its sandy shore is a massive Pegazi habitat with sheltered stables. Dozens of the colorful creatures are sleeping on feathery blankets laid out along the sand, while others are standing around chewing hay.

I’d love to go find Candor.

“You like them?” asks Hysan, who’s observing me again.

“Yeah,” I say, as we walk between the lake and the castle’s waterfall walls. “And you?”

“They’re my favorite animal of the Zodiac. I bonded with a wild Pegazi five years ago and ever since, any time I visit Primitus, he finds me.” Hysan comes to a stop by one of the waterfalls and sticks his hand into the stream of water.

“What are you doing?” I blurt, looking around to make sure we’re alone.

“There are three hundred waterfalls on the palace grounds, but this one is special. I know because I’ve investigated them all.”

After a moment the water stops running, and we watch the last of it swirl down a drain embedded in the ground. Where the waterfall had been there’s a column with a control panel jutting from a long slab of stone on the floor. Hysan takes my hand and pulls me across the drain onto the stone; even through the glove’s fabric, his touch delays my pulse a few beats.

He hits a sequence on the control panel, and the sound of rushing water starts again. I look up in awe as the white crystal drops crash around us, blurring the whole world except Hysan.

We’re standing extra close to keep from getting splashed, and our hands are still interlocked. There’s a wet curl sticking to my forehead, and Hysan reaches up to free it, his touch melting my skin. Then he lets go of my hand and drops to the ground, feeling along the outline of the stone slab.

“Now what are you doing?” I ask.

“Showing you my favorite secret I’ve uncovered so far.”

When he finds what he’s looking for, he digs his fingers in and lifts, sliding half the stone to the side and revealing dark steps that descend underground.

He blasts light from the Scan in his eye, and I see that the drop isn’t deep. “You should go first, so I can illuminate the way for you.”

He helps me stuff the folds of my gown into the tunnel’s opening, and then he shines his light on me until I’ve climbed down to the stone floor. He descends next.

“Where are we?” I ask, pulling the coat tighter around me.

“Technically the sewers, but this tunnel isn’t functional. It’s a fake.” With his Scan’s light he leads us down an echoing stone passage. “There’s a legend, one of my favorites, about an Aquarian princess who lived during the turn of the first millennium. Her name was Zenith.”

I see a door looming ahead where the passage comes to a dead end. “Zenith was next in line to be Supreme Guardian, which meant she had to marry someone noble from the Royal Clan to continue the bloodline. After graduating from Zodai University, she returned to the palace and joined the Royal Guard to ready herself for the day the stars called on her to step up. Since the Houses were under galactic rule then, there was an ambassador from every House stationed at the castle, each in a different tower; it’s why the common rooms represent the different constellations.

“The youngest ambassador was Paloma from Capricorn, and she and Zenith became fast friends. Every week Zenith brought Paloma with her to the royal balls hosted by her father, the Supreme Guardian, who hoped his daughter would find her future spouse among the gathered suitors. But year after year passed, and she never picked anyone.”

We reach the door, which is crudely crafted from stone, untouched by modernity. Hysan doesn’t have to unlock anything; he just shoves it, and the stone scrapes open, revealing a cave-like space that’s covered in carvings.

He removes a metal grate in the floor and uses a lighter to stoke a low fire. When he puts the grate back in place, light flickers through its ridges and plays on the stone walls, bringing the drawings to life. Hysan shuts off his Scan.

The only piece of furniture in the room is a large, feathered bed in the back. I’m awestruck as I take in all of the art around me; colorful canvases hang over some of the carvings, creating a collage effect that gives the place a sacred feel, like we’re touring a person’s mind. Or heart.

“Zenith was an artist, so the walls tell her story.”

Hysan stands before the depiction of a small girl with charcoal eyes wearing a crown too big for her head. The design beside it shows a slightly older version of the same girl, and while her classmates leap through the air, unburdened, she lags behind, bent beneath the weight of the Aquarian constellation she carries on her back.

“Zenith couldn’t give her heart to any of her suitors because she’d already given it to someone—Paloma, the Capricorn ambassador.” On canvas are a series of semi-nude portraits of a dark-skinned woman with sand-colored eyes who must be Paloma.

“But the Supreme Guardian grew impatient and gave his daughter an ultimatum: She must choose a husband by the end of the year, or he’d choose one for her.” Beneath the canvas is a carving of a man bearing an Aquarian crown, his eyes as dark as night.

Hysan turns from the flickering designs to me, and in the cave’s warm glow he looks like he’s made of gold. “Zenith knew she couldn’t put off her duty to her House any longer, but before succumbing to her fate, she first ordered her servants to build her this secret chamber, swearing them to a lifelong secrecy they never broke. It’s said that even after she married and gave birth to a line of heirs and became Supreme Guardian, she and Paloma never stopped meeting here.”

“How . . . how do you know about this place?” I ask, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

“It’s hard to keep something this big hidden forever when you’re in the spotlight.” Firelight dances in Hysan’s eyes. “Whispers followed Zenith, which became rumors that got handed down over time, until they became part of the historical canon about the royal line. These stories get mostly dismissed as myths because it’s hard to come by tangible proof about people who lived millennia ago. But when I was nine, I was fascinated by everything to do with Aquarius, and I loved reading about this castle and the line of royals that graced its halls. Zenith’s story in particular stayed with me, so when I became Guardian, I used every visit to the palace to search for signs of this chamber. I found it two years ago.”

His voice loses some of its sunniness, and I recognize the tone as the one he adopts whenever he shares something about himself. “Seeing a myth come to life changed something about the way I look at the universe. It made me curious about what other stories we’ve lost to time.” Regaining his charm he adds, “Of course, none of my discoveries have been quite as exciting as a Thirteenth House.”

My stomach tickles from the way he’s looking at me, so I fill the air with more words. “Are you the only person who knows about this place?”

He shakes his head. “It’s definitely been found; otherwise it’d be in disrepair by now. I’m betting plenty of Royal Guard regimes have located it through the ages, but why would they publicize a discovery confirming a sensational story about the royal line? They’d probably prefer no one ever finds it.” His mouth curves into a sad smile that’s shyer than his usual one. “But I hope other star-crossed lovers have found this place over the centuries. It’d be nice to think there’s a corner of our galaxy where love has always prevailed over prejudice.”

He stares at Zenith’s carvings, and his ears look a little pink. But that could just be from the firelight.

It takes every ounce of self-control to refrain from reaching out to him. At least now that he’s facing away, I finally feel brave enough to ask about his date. “How did you meet Skarlet Thorne?”

“She and I have known each other for years. I wasn’t going to attend this event, but she asked me to escort her. I guess I needed a break from everything.” My skin tingles as he turns to me again. “And I couldn’t come up with a good reason to say no.”

I nod, suddenly eager to move on. “Neith wouldn’t say what you were up to whenever we’d talk. Have you found something on the Marad?”

He takes a long moment to answer. “No, not yet. But I might have more news soon.” I want to ask him for details, but rather than display distrust, I decide not to press him. He’s more than earned my faith.

Only now I’ve run out of words to stack between us, and in the absence of conversation, the room’s fire seems to burn hotter. I slip the black coat off and turn away to lay it on the mattress.

I don’t know how to be around Hysan without touching him.

His mind seems to be in the same place, because when he’s in front of me again, he takes my hand. I wish I’d removed the gloves so I could feel his skin. “When Nishi pulled you away in the ballroom, it was only out of consideration for Skarlet that I didn’t run after you.”

I’m not sure I heard him correctly.

“That’s why I went to see her before meeting you tonight. To tell her I just want to stay friends.”

“You did?”

His eyes flicker with light. “I told you on Centaurion, Rho. You’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

Something splits open inside me, filling my body with so many feelings that there’s no room left for the oxygen I need to breathe.

“I’m not going to ask you for a date,” he goes on, “since that hasn’t worked so well for me in the past. All I’m going to ask you for is tonight.”

He cups my face in his hand, and the feel of his skin on mine gives my pulse a sudden burst of speed. “I know our heads have to be elsewhere these days, but for a few hours, let’s let this place be what it was always meant to be . . . a haven for the star-crossed.”

I wrap my arms around him, and when his lips touch mine, nothing in the universe has ever been as right as this kiss.

Just as I’ve let go of my fear, I feel Hysan giving up his control. Unlike the measured kisses I remember, this one is free and unrestrained, powered by an irrepressible force, as if for tonight at least, neither of us is willing to let anything come between us.

His fingers dig into my curls, and I tug down on his collar, pulling his suit jacket off. I peel off my gloves and toss them onto the mattress, but before I can wrap my hands around him again, Hysan takes my left arm in his hands and stares at the twelve red scars.

When he looks up again, there’s so much tenderness in his green eyes that I know he’s traveled back to the scene on ’Nox, to the way I must have looked when he found me.

“So how many girls have you brought down here?” I tease, trying to distract him.

“You’ll be number one hundred and four,” he says, flashing his dimples.

“Ha. Hilarious—”

“What is that?” He frowns as he notices the black bangle on my left wrist.

“New bracelet,” I say dismissively, freeing my hand from his and circling my arms around his neck again. “You know, I’ve been wondering about that night you came to my bedroom at the Libran embassy.”

“I already like where this is going. . . .”

I hold him closer so he can’t see my face. “Were you—did you bring protection with you because you knew what was going to happen between us?”

He laughs softly in my ear, and mortification singes my skin. “Are you asking if I consulted the stars to See if you’d sleep with me?”

“No—that’s not—” But I can’t think of any justification for my idiotic question, so I bury my face deeper into his dress shirt, my cheeks burning like coals.

Hysan kisses the top of my head, and I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I didn’t know what would happen, Rho; I only knew what Iwanted to happen.” His voice huskier, he whispers, “And, since you’ve brought that up. . . .”

“Unfortunately this dress will require the assistance of a lady’s maid to remove,” I say through still-flushed cheeks.

“Well, since they’re all asleep by now . . . .” He pulls away, and when I see the hungry look in his eyes, my blood buzzes in anticipation. “I insist you allow me to serve you in their stead.”

My mouth dry, I swallow.

Then I gather my curls to one side and turn around.

Hysan stands so close behind me that his breath nestles into the crook of my shoulder. I feel his fingers working deftly down my spine, patiently undoing every diamond button, until at last air brushes across my exposed back.

His hand skates along my skin, tickling every nerve ending, and I turn around to face him. His gaze has this way of taking in everything about me, as if he can see how my pieces puzzle together.

“Helios, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, his lips temptingly close to mine. He kisses my jawline and traces his way down my neck, while his fingers hook into my dress’s heart-shaped neckline and slowly slide it down. The bodice dips beneath my breasts and hangs around my waist.

Hysan drops to his knees, still feeling his way down my curves with his mouth. He keeps sliding my dress lower, until it crumples around my ankles, and goose bumps ripple across my skin.

I gasp as he kisses my hipbone, and his green eyes dart up to meet mine as he pulls gently on the band of my underwear, lowering it slowly.

My eyelids close as my muscles yield to Hysan’s touch, and my mind grows floaty, like I’m Centered. I’ve never felt my body more intensely than in this moment; it’s like I can sense everything happening to me on a microscopic level, down to the oxygen atoms’ whispery brush against my skin.

The world tips sideways, and now I’m lying on a constellation of clouds, every part of me pulsing with pleasure. The exhilaration builds inside me like a rising rhythm that makes my bones quiver, the feeling sweeping through my blood so swiftly it takes my breath away. My heart pumps blissful music through my veins, its drumroll beat growing louder and louder with every rising breath, until—

Until my chest bursts open and my soul soars free and I touch the stars.

20

WE LEAVE OUR HIDEOUT BEFOREsunrise, using the cover of darkness to surreptitiously shut off the waterfall.

The castle doors are still closed, but Hysan unlocks them with his Scan, and we slip into the deserted entrance hall. He takes my hand as we dart past dim drawing rooms, and when we pass through a thought tunnel, he pulls me into him, and we make out in the mist.

We might as well be walking in the clouds because I don’t remember life on the ground ever feeling this good.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” I say once the white smoke dissipates. “A couple of months ago, I saw a vision of my mom.”

Hysan turns to me, shock written all over his face. “What was it?”

“It was her face . . . morphing into an Aquarian.” I don’t look at him as I say it, and I realize I’m ashamed she’s a Riser. And the realization shames me even further.

“Was there any indication of where she might be?” he asks, and I shake my head. He tips my chin up. “You’ll find her.” His eyes seem so sure. “I promise you.”

We turn down the hall with the undulating burgundy-and-blue carpet, and Hysan halts mid-stride. I turn to see why he’s stopped, and I notice his expression has hardened into a frown.

“What is it?”

“Neith,” he says, the green of his gaze growing distant. “Rho, I’ll fill you in later—but right now I have to go.”

My happiness fades as quickly as the thought tunnel’s fog. “What’s wrong with Neith? Is he okay? Where is he?”

“He’ll be fine,” says Hysan, pressing his thumb to the sensor on the wall; the thick fabric flaps out and then ripples into steps. “It’s not what happened last time. He just has some leftover glitches I haven’t worked out yet, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. Focus on learning what you can about the Party, and I’ll be in touch later.”

“Hysan—”

He presses his mouth to mine but pulls away too quickly. “I’m sorry, Rho—I have to go.”

I watch him until he disappears, and then I make my way to the ninth tower, my worry over Neith rising with every step. The common room is crowded with sleeping partygoers in formalwear who didn’t make it back to their beds last night; this must have been the after after party. I tiptoe through the bodies on my way to the spiral staircase, and then I climb to the top of the tower and slip into my room.

Nishi is facedown on the bed, still wearing her pink taffeta dress. I shake off my black coat and reach back to undo the handful of dress buttons Hysan hooked; I asked him to only do a few so I could slip it off easily.

I take a long bath, using the foamy, floral beauty products, and then I smooth my curls with the glossing spray. Rather than wear my Lodestar suit today, I play around with the closet archiver to put together an outfit that looks like Cancrian formal attire. I settle on a long, flowing, cream-colored skirt with a fitted sapphire blazer, and the program rates my fashion sense a six out of ten.

I grab the black glove for my left hand but before pulling it on, I stare at the Scarab clamped on my wrist. I caught Hysan’s gaze straying toward it a few times last night, but as much as I wanted to confide in him, I couldn’t bring myself to ruin our reunion. I decided I’d just tell him today, since I thought we’d be spending it together.

I didn’t realize he’d be off before the sun came up.

When I slip out of the Lady’s Lounge through the gold-tasseled curtains, the air in the main room is tinged with rays of brilliant blue. Dawn is breaking over Primitus.

For the first time since I arrived, Helios has managed to cut through the constant cloud covering, revealing a skyline like none I’ve ever seen before. Since all three Aquarian planets orbit closely together and maintain equidistance, the massive round silhouettes of Secundus and Tertius press into the atmosphere on either side of Helios, and below, the picture is reflected in the deep blue ocean.

“Stunning, no?”

I turn to see Nishi lifting her head off the mattress, her black locks mussed over her face. I go sit beside her and start unhooking the back of her dress’s corset-tight bodice. She folds her arms under her head and rests her cheek on her hand, looking up at me through her tangle of tresses. “Did you sleep?”

“Nope.”

“Skarlet?”

“Over.”

“Happy?”

“Very.”

“Prepare to relive every detail . . . after I’ve caffeinated.” She sits up and shuffles into the Lady’s Lounge, clutching her dress’s neckline as the loose fabric falls off her lean frame.

While she showers and gets dressed, I send Sirna an encrypted message to thank her for the gold dress. I also confide what I’ve learned of the Tomorrow Party and ask her to consult her sources about Black Moon, but to make sure the information stays confidential. Sirna is better positioned to navigate the political sphere in which the Party operates; and while we may disagree philosophically, I do trust her instincts.

“Blaze just sent a message; we’re expected at a Party meeting for senior officers,” says Nishi hurriedly, rushing in from the Lady’s Lounge with wet hair and wearing the same lavender shirt and charcoal pants she wore yesterday. “Stan, Mathias, and Pandora are also invited; Imogen will tell them.”

“Perfect.” I pocket my Wave, and we dart downstairs to meet my brother and the others in the common room. They all look far better rested than Nishi and me.

Despite my sleeplessness, I have more energy this morning than I’ve felt in a long time. Memories of Hysan hum through my mind, turning the sandstone beneath my feet into cottony clouds, and I find myself imagining what it’d be like to stroll with him through the grounds right now, feeling the sun on my face and his hands on my skin—

“Why are you smiling like that?” asks Stan, frowning at me.

My gaze darts to Mathias, who’s also studying me, and I shrug. Then I hurry to catch up to Nishi and Imogen. Even though there’s a quiet tension between Mathias and Pandora, they’re walking together, so some kind of understanding must have passed between them.

The meeting is in Blaze’s office, and a few dozen people are already gathered around the conference table—some in chairs, some standing, and the rest sitting on the floor. Blaze stands at the head of the table next to an empty seat. He waves Nishi over, and while she weaves her way to her appointed position, we hang back among the outermost ring of people.

“Welcome, everyone,” says Blaze, the bags beneath his eyes matching the blue of his hair. He’s wearing a red shirt, and I watch as a small holographic lion prowls across his chest. “Sorry for cutting into your recovery sleep,” he says as the lion disappears around his ribcage, “but I’ve just been informed that now that the party’s over, so is our stay on Aquarius.”

He sounds more than a little bitter, and I’m reminded of our abrupt dismissal from Scorpio. “We’ll need to immediately identify our next base of operations, and then we’ll have to be ready to move over the next couple of days. I’ll be meeting with the Locations Committee right after this meeting to review our options, and we’ll have some updates on that front tonight.”

Was Untara upset enough about Crompton’s speech that she revoked the Party’s welcome? And if so, what kind of punishment awaits Crompton?

“I will now shift the spotlight to the fierce Nishiko Sai, your new co-captain, to update you on the Black Moon front.”

Blaze sits as Nishi stands, and everyone breaks into applause. A smile overtakes Nishi’s sleepy features at the warm welcome, and she grows more alert.

“Thanks, guys. I’m amazed by how much we’ve been able to accomplish on Aquarius in just a few weeks, and I can’t wait to keep working with you wherever we land next! Like Crompton said so eloquently last night, we’re going to face opposition, so we have to be ready to put in hard work. And the first issue we have to tackle is that our permit for planet XDZ5709—or, as we know it here, Black Moon—only provides us with a scientific right of exploration.

“The hard part comes next, when we have to convince the Plenum to allow us to form our own experimental society, free from a single House’s rule. The only precedence for something like this involves medical trials and psychiatric studies, but what we’re doing goes further than any experiment preceding it. So we’ll want to explore a wide array of potential legal arguments to pursue. And on that note, June, how’s the Legal Committee doing?”

“We’ve drafted a dozen dockets,” announces a blond Libran in a medical hover-chair with a yellow blanket covering her legs. Most healers can regrow a person’s limbs, but there are some congenital conditions technology can’t cure yet.

“Right now our favorite approach would be to argue that the Plenum has no jurisdiction over the unaffiliated planets of our solar system, so we shouldn’t have to get their permission to do any of this. It’s a broad argument, and it’s failed before in other cases, but we have a far more progressive Plenum now than we did then, and we also have the benefit of studying where previous cases went wrong to make ours stronger.” June sucks in a quick breath and keeps going. “Technically, if we win, we would be establishing that it’s a person’s right to defect from their home world and colonize any unaffiliated planet. In fact, we would probably be opening up a land grab in our solar system—”

“Okay, thank you, June,” says Nishi, cutting her off. “That’s great, but if we want the Plenum to hear our petition next session, we can’t miss this deadline. Start circulating the twelve drafts you’ve already got, so we can ask for feedback from our more politically minded members. After the amazing time we showed them last night, the least they can do is lend us their expertise. Besides, it gives them a chance to take on a more important role in our movement.”

Even though she isn’t saying anything wrong, something is definitely off about Nishi’s behavior. It isn’t like her to be so abrupt with someone, nor have I ever heard her sound so self-important.

“Which brings us to my next point: We’ve spoken with our team of scientists on Black Moon and confirmed that optimal population numbers for this first wave of settlers will be one thousand people from each House. So, House Captains, please begin the application process. And, finally—yes, Rho?”

I lower my hand. “I was just wondering, how are you finding these twelve thousand applicants?”

“Each House Captain is in charge of promoting our vision through our existing networks of members on each House. For those who are interested in joining, there’s an application and evaluation process.” She waves her hand in the air like it’s all too complicated to get into right now. “Essentially we’re looking for people with pioneer personalities, those who would thrive at building a new civilization.” Her answer is so perfectly political—a bunch of loaded words strung together into vague enough sentences to offer nothing real—that it makes her seem like a stranger to me.

I’ve heard plenty of talk like this over the past few months, but I never thought I’d hear it from Nishi.

I raise my hand again.

“Rho, maybe you can save your questions for later—like, when they’re not interrupting our meeting.”

I can’t move or even blink. Since when does Nishi disapprove of questions?

Ignoring my stare she looks around at the others, picking up her old thread again. “And, finally, we have a decision on the Pisces problem.” The way she says the phrase makes the hairs of my arm stand on end. “We’ve spoken with our sponsors, and the final decision—for now, until the situation there is resolved—is to hold off on inviting House Pisces to participate in Black Moon.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

I pan my gaze around the room, expecting people to protest, and for the first time it occurs to me that there isn’t a single Piscene here, which is strange, given that the Party has been in the works for a few months, and the Piscene plague only broke out a week ago.

“Okay,” says Nishi, clapping her hands together. “Let’s spread out in the common room or wherever else you can find space and break into committees. Please check in with Blaze or myself with your updates before tonight’s meeting; we’ll message you with a time once it’s set. That’s all.”

As everyone disbands, I pull Nishi aside. “Can we talk in private?”

“Right now, in the middle of all this?” she asks, sounding put out.

“Let’s go to our room.”

She grunts her acceptance and strides out of the office, and I follow her up the tower. “I’m sorry if I was curt with you at the meeting,” she says once I’ve shut the door behind us. “I really needed caffeine before going in there.”

Rather than sitting on the bed, she stands near the room’s entrance, as if to emphasize that she doesn’t have long to chat.

“Nish, what’s up?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, crossing her arms defensively.

“Since when does unity mean most instead of all?”

“It’s only for now, until the situation on Pisces is resolved.”

“You said the Party has been on Aquarius for weeks. So how come there’s no one here from Pisces?”

“There were a few people, but they took off as soon as news broke about the plague on their House. Just as they had to understandably prioritize their world, right now we need to prioritize this project. We really can’t risk putting off the other Houses; Black Moon is in too early stages to be making divisive decisions that could weaken our members’ commitment to our cause. We’ll just agree on this point for now, and once the Zodai have sorted out what’s wrong and developed an antidote, no one is going to oppose bringing Pisces back in.”

I press my hands on her crossed arms so she’ll meet my gaze. “But don’t the politics here seem flawed? Favoring one group of people over another? Isn’t that what the Tomorrow Party is trying to fight against? Maybe it’d be better to lose those sponsors from the cause altogether than embrace these kinds of politics.”

She shrugs her arms loose to shake me off. “That’s not how this works—”

“Then change the way it works!” I hear myself say, quoting word-for-word what Candela said to me on Centaurion. “Nish, I think you’re compromising your values to make this the right cause for you. And I’m worried you won’t like yourself when it’s over.”

“Look, you did things your own way a few months ago. You stuck to your beliefs and insisted on Ophiuchus’s existence, even when it became clear that honesty would only hurt your cause. And that was your choice. But I’m not interested in wasting time fighting. I want to make progress now, and if that means tabling a discussion or two until later, I don’t think it’s worth arguing about.”

I shake my head in frustration. “Are you listening to yourself? Aren’t we supposed to be changing the norm by breaking it?”

Nishi glowers at me, her eyes burning like embers, but I blow right past her warning and say, “What would Deke think?”

At the sound of his name, her features harden into a mask. The fire in her eyes goes out, and she stares at me impassively, like a wall has just been erected between us.

But this time, I can’t cave to her. Nishi’s wellbeing—and our friendship—depends on my being brave enough to speak my mind right now. So I grab the heaviest hammer in my arsenal, and I swing.

“When was the last time you listened to Deke’s final words?” I demand. Her mouth falls open, and her eyes flash with shocked fury, but I don’t stop there. “He said Don’t forget me, and that’s exactly what you’re doing!”

I’ve only seen Nishi’s face look this horrified once before.

“I can’t believe you.”

“Nish, you’re not your full self without your memories. Denying them will only twist you into someone you’re not—”

“What gives you the right to be morally superior when, until last night, we weren’t allowed to discuss Hysan?” she asks in a cutting tone. “Or should I just deal with my grief the way you dealt with yours for Mathias, by giving up on everything I claim to stand for and retreating into my shell?”

Her words hurt, but this argument isn’t about me. “You’re right. I did do that. But then I remembered who I was, and you know who reminded me?” I move closer to her and soften my tone. “I just want to help you get through this the way you and Deke helped me.”

“And look where that got us,”she says in a low, lethal voice.

I go deathly silent, and I feel like I did that awful night on Elara’s surface, when my helmet warned me I was running out of oxygen. “I begged you both not to board that ship with me,” I say in a controlled voice, like I’m rationing my air. “You knew the odds, and you wouldn’t listen.”

“Deke wanted to fight when the Marad boarded our ship.” Her features pull together in a repressed sob, and a vein bulges in her forehead from how hard she’s resisting it. “And you didn’t let him.”

The same sob seems to be strangling my throat, and I grow lightheaded from my lack of oxygen. “You knew the plan, Nishi. I was supposed to get captured,” I say, my breathing strained. “I was supposed to be bait. And neither of you were supposed to be there.”

Anger burns my belly, and it’s not just over Nishi’s accusation. Deep down, somewhere so far within me that she’ll never know about it, I blame her and Deke for not heeding my warnings. I’m mad at them for insisting on going with me and not considering the consequences.

I’m angry at Deke for dying.

“You’re right, Rho,” says Nishi, as tears finally break through, and her mask comes crashing down. “I wish we’d never followed you.”

21

SOMETIME AFTER NISHI STORMS OFF,there’s a knock on my door. I have no idea how long I’ve been staring at the reflection of the Aquarian planets’ silhouettes in the ocean, trying not to think about the things Nishi and I said to each other.

But it’s not just my best friend I feel like I’m losing.

I’d been so happy at the idea of Black Moon—the thought that in a few years I might live in a world where Nishi and I could be roommates, where Hysan and I could be together openly, where people could unite by choice instead of chance. A world where the Zeniths and Palomas of the Zodiac wouldn’t need a hideout.

But instead of being the change we’ve been fighting for, this Party is turning out to be an upgrade on the same old politics of prejudice and privilege and popularity. Gyzer was right: Real freedom doesn’t move in one direction, but in all of them. It isn’t enough just to change things: First we have to change the way we change things.

The door cracks open. “Rho?” says Stan. “We’re going for a walk. Can you come?”

I wipe the tears off my cheeks before turning around. “Yeah . . . sure.” I grab the black coat Hysan gave me and follow him out.

We stop by my brother’s room to pick up Mathias and Pandora, who are sitting on a bed talking in hushed tones. The moment he sees me in the doorway, Mathias stands.

“Coming?” I say, looking from him to Pandora, so she’ll feel included.

The common room is packed with Party members; they’re divided into committees, working, and I’m reminded of the bustling scene we walked in on when we first landed here a couple of days ago. I avoid making eye contact with anyone because I don’t want to lock gazes with Nishi, and right as I hit the wall switch for the carpet staircase, I hear my name.

“Rho!” Imogen runs up to me, her copper-flecked eyes round. “Did you hear about Crompton?”

My friends gather around us as I ask, “What about him?”

“Untara had him arrested for treason. He’s being escorted to the dungeons now—”

Before she’s finished speaking, I run down the burgundy-and-blue steps. I determine which way to go by following the swarm of fair-skinned, glassy-eyed, light-haired Aquarians racing across the sandstone, whispering about the arrest.

Up ahead I spot a dozen Elders marching through a drawing room surrounding a tall man with silver hair. I hurry until I’ve caught up, and then I call, “Ambassador Crompton!”

The troop of Elders tries to keep marching, but Crompton stops moving, and they begrudgingly halt, too. “Wandering Star,” he says, his pink eyes looking much dimmer this morning than they did last night. “I had hoped to see you before going.”

He looks to one of the men around him, and I recognize grim-faced Pollus, who spares me a disgruntled glance before nodding at Crompton.

“You have five minutes,” he says.

Another Elder turns to him in alarm. “We are under strict instructions not to allow him access to the Wandering Star.”

“I am the senior official here, and I’m saying they can talk.”

I try twisting my Ring to see if I can call to Crompton through the Collective Conscious; but I’ve only ever tried it with people I’m close to, so I’m not sure how to reach out for his particular essence. Ambassador? Can you hear me?

I don’t feel anything, and when I look over, I don’t see his Barer or his Ring on his fingers. He’s no longer wearing his Philosopher’s Stone around his neck either. They’ve taken his devices.

A loud whip of electricity crackles between us as an aqua blade beams out from the interconnected rings on Pollus’s clenched right hand. Quick as lightning another Elder draws his own Barer, and protective shades glow around both men, similar to the one Morscerta used to wear.

“Stand down or I will have you locked up next to the Ambassador for taking arms against your superior,” warns Pollus. “Supreme Advisor Untara only said they may not meet privately. She also did not want us to offend the Plenum, whom the Wandering Star represents. Your lack of subtlety, Revelough, is what keeps you from moving up the ranks. Now I will not repeat myself again. Stand down.”

Revelough looks to the others, but since no one else reacts, he lowers his blade. The whole platoon falls back a couple of paces, giving Crompton and me the smallest modicum of space.

“It seems I’ve failed to follow my own advice,” he says gravely, in a low voice that nonetheless carries to the Elders around us. “Learn from my experience, because the Zodiac needs you far more than it does me.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” I say, moving as close to him as I dare and dropping my voice to a barely audible whisper. “The Tomorrow Party isn’t the solution I thought it would be.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he says, his brow creasing with more weight. “Neither is the Aquarian government. When Morscerta chose me to be his replacement, he faced a world of opposition, primarily from Untara. People from her camp said I came from too small a village, that I wouldn’t be able to deal with palace politics. I guess they were right.”

“How long will they keep you locked up?”

“Pollus is working on my defense, so hopefully not long. He’s smart, and I trust him. He might be the last friend I have left.”

“One of the last,” I say, and I’m embarrassed to see from the warmth in Crompton’s eyes that I’ve moved him.

“I’m sorry I can no longer help you with your search,” he says sadly. “In the end I’m afraid I’m just another old politician who’s let you down.”

“No, you’re not—”

“Listen,” he says, speaking as low as he dares, “I know it will be tempting to stay here searching for your mom, but you should leave this place as soon as you can.” The Elders around us begin to crowd in again, and Crompton whispers faster. “With me out of the way, Untara will not be so welcoming. She’s—”

“We have to go,” says Pollus roughly, cutting Crompton off before he can say more. Then the Elders swallow him in their formation, and he’s gone.

•   •   •

We leave the palace and step onto the sunny, sandy plaza, but the fresh air doesn’t make my breathing any easier. Neith, Nishi, Crompton . . . lately it feels like I’m powerless to help any of my friends.

The waterfalls around us sparkle from Helios’s touch, and as we walk past them, I think about last night and how much I wish Hysan were beside me right now to put my mind at ease. I twist my Ring, debating reaching out to him through the Collective Conscious.

“I think we need to abandon this stupid cause and focus on something real, like Pisces,” says my brother, shattering our silence.

“I think we should find out more about this Party first,” says Mathias. I look at him and he holds eye contact with me for the first time since our dance.

My skin grows soft from his gaze, and I realize I’ll probably always feel a sense of security when he’s around. But the pulse-pausing jolt I used to get from looking into his indigo eyes is now just a gentle breath between beats. A muscle memory.

“I spoke to my parents,” he says, “and Sirna told them you reached out. Apparently the Party has been on their radar for a while because of the kind of money they’re throwing around, but they’re very protective of their financial records. Every politician who’s donated has made their contribution public, yet the known total doesn’t add up to even a small portion of how much they’ve been spending. Sirna wants you to see if, maybe through your friendship with Nishi, you can find out who the sponsors are.”

A couple of Aquarian valets in velvet top hats pass us going in the other direction, and once they’re out of earshot, I say, “Let’s put more space between us and the palace.”

It was a smart move on Sirna’s part to send me the message through Mathias. Otherwise she would have actually had to admit that House politics are entwining with my personal life. Again.

As we round the corner, the Pegazi habitat comes into view on the horizon, beneath a cloudless blue sky. Across the lake, hundreds of winged horses in hides of every hue walk along the sand or lie on feathery blankets or wade in the glinting water. Helios hovers over the scene, sandwiched between the pale imprints of planets Secundus and Tertius.

I cut in the Pegazi’s direction, since that’s probably where we’ll have the least chance of being overheard.

“Rho!”

A hairy creature with sharp teeth suddenly jumps out at me and roars in my face.

Shocked, I let out a piercing shriek of terror, which instinctively prompts Mathias to leap forward and smash his fist into its face.

“Ow!”

The creature emits a childlike cry, and as he rubs his bleeding nose, I realize he’s a Leonine teenager with a very bushy mane of brown hair. “You animal!” he snaps at Mathias. “What kind of Cancrian goes around punching people?”

“Well what kind of person jumps out at—” I stop mid-sentence and squint at him. “Helios, are you Traxon Harwing?”

His outrage instantly transforms into pride, and he flashes his pointy teeth at me in a smile. “Hard to forget this face, eh, Rho?” A trickle of blood dribbles down his lip.

“I remember you.”Stanton studies Trax’s hairy features. “You were at the international village on Vitulus. You’re in that conspiracy group, the Thirteenth House—”

“Actually, it’s just 13,” says Trax, wiping the blood off his nose with his sullied sleeve. He’s wearing a black tuxedo that’s completely covered in dirt and grime.

“Did you sleep out here?” I ask, gazing at the haphazard piles of hay and stained feather blankets strewn throughout the sand.

“Had to, since they wouldn’t let me into the castle.” The Leonine’s face is a tangle of hair, but as he pulls his wild locks back into a ponytail, I see a broad face with multiple eyebrow piercings.

I think back to the scuffle I saw by the front doors on my way to the ball. “That was you,” I say, frowning. “Why wouldn’t the Tomorrow Party let you attend the event?”

“Blaze hates me.” He says it like it’s a bragging right. “I’m always blowing the lid off his new projects on my holo-show, Trax the Truth Tracker.”

“You don’t like him?” I ask.

“I don’t have a problem with the man,” he says defensively. “I actually admire his idealism.”

“So why mess with him?” asks Stan.

“Because I’m a Truther from Leo’s Truth Pride, and I believe in full transparency in all things.” Traxon has the same candid way of expressing himself as Blaze, and the honesty in his speech makes him hard to write off, even if he’s a bit too much.

“That’s why I’ve been waiting to run into you,” he says, looking at me with newfound interest. “I need you to tell me what the Tomorrow Party is planning.”

“What do you mean?” I ask warily.

His eyes narrowing, he hunches his shoulders forward, like a lion shifting into hunting mode. “Blaze likes to champion progressive causes, but they’re always specific to ourHouse. The Tomorrow Party is far more ambitious than anything he’s tried before, and he’s managed to attract too many high profile sponsors in too short a time for this to be just another venture.” The focus of his gaze is so constant that I’m not sure he’s blinking; he looks like a predator ready to pounce.

“I know you, in particular, wouldn’t come all this way just to play politics, which means something Blaze is doing has piqued your interest. I also know he’s already shared his plans with you, or you wouldn’t be here. So what is it, Rho? What’s the Tomorrow Party’s end goal?”

Even if I begrudgingly respect his investigative prowess, his sense of entitlement sets my teeth on end, just like it did when we first met. “Traxon, if you want to learn about the Tomorrow Party, you need to ask an actual member.”

“Oh, so you don’t like what they’re up to?” he surmises, his eyes widening with surprise.

Annoyed, I just say, “Don’t let the Pegazi hog the feather blanket tonight.

Then I move past him to survey the sea of colorful creatures for Candor’s aqua hide. I keep a respectful distance as I approach the lake’s shoreline where an orange horse is drinking and a purple one is lying beside it with its wet wings fully unfurled so Helios can dry its feathers.

“Or I can go with a different headline,” Traxon calls out. “Wandering Star Rhoma Grace attends a ball on Aquarius and spends the night with a Libran who came as Skarlet Thorne’s date.”

My body ices over with his words.

When my veins thaw and blood begins to flow again, I turn slowly, toward Mathias. He’s staring at the lake, wearing the unreadable Zodai expression he used to hide behind on Oceon 6. He’s shutting me out from his reaction.

I spin the rest of the way around and glower at Traxon. “You’re a jerk. And that sounds more like a rumor than truth tracking.”

“You’re right, Rho.” He creeps closer. “I wonder what would make it more newsworthy . . . .”

He flicks on his silver Lighter—the Leonine version of a Wave—and a holographic image pops into the air: Hysan holding my face in his hands and kissing me outside the castle this morning.

I can’t breathe.

“And in case you’re thinking of clocking me again and stealing my Lighter,” he warns Mathias, “I back everything up. So what’s my lead story going to be, Rho?”

I don’t meet Traxon’s stare. Hysan definitely doesn’t need a dogged Truther looking too deeply into his identity. But I also can’t let this nosy, bullying Leo use me. I need a third option.

“Okay,” says a dreamy voice behind me. “We’ll tell you.”

We all turn to Pandora in surprise. Between waterfalls of auburn hair, her amethyst eyes sparkle in the sunlight. “But we’ll need a private place to talk.”

“Excellent!” says a beaming Traxon. “Step into my kingdom.”

22

SINCE MY MIND IS AS blank as Mathias’s expression, I don’t question Pandora’s plan beyond hoping she has one.

I grudgingly trail after Traxon as he weaves through the landscape of Pegazi, leading us toward one of the sheltered stables. My brother, Mathias, and Pandora fall behind me, and as I walk an acidic guilt eats at my guts. This wasn’t how I wanted Mathias or my brother to learn about Hysan.

The sun-soaking steeds pay us no attention as we pass them, too busy eating or sleeping or drinking to marvel at the humans in their midst. They’re so silent that I wonder if they have their own way of communicating through the Psy.

When he reaches the stable, Traxon turns to me and asks, “How long have you known Hysan Dax?”

I stiffen. “You know Hysan?”

“Everyone knows Hysan.” The cocky Leo tilts his head. “He gets around.” There’s a bite in his voice that sounds a lot like jealousy. “But you already knew that, since he attended the ball with Skarlet and went home with you.”

My brother arrives in time to hear Traxon’s jab. “And you spent the night with a Pegazi, so what’s your point?”

I snort.

“At least the Pegazi stuck around until morning.” Traxon watches me for a reaction, and I feel my face blanching, until I notice his smirk looks forced. Even though he’s taunting me, he’s the one who seems hurt.

But why would he care that I spent the night with Hysan? I’m not getting the vibe Trax likes me that way. So if his jealousy isn’t over me, then it must be about—

“Don’t take it personally, Rho.” The Leonine’s expression hardens, like he can read the realization on my face. “I’ve heard Hysan rarely sticks around after getting what he wants.”

Suddenly Stan yanks Traxon by his tuxedo collar and shoves him into the wall. “I swear to Helios, you better leave my sister alone—”

Mathias grabs my brother’s shoulders and pulls him off Traxon, placing himself between them and holding a hand to each of their chests. The Leonine grins like he’s having a blast. “You’re pretty feral for a bunch of Cancrians. I dig it!”

“Just take us to your hovel,” I say through gritted teeth.

Trax leads us around the side of the structure, presumably to wherever the entrance is, and I cover my nose as the smell grows unbearable for a few breaths, until we step inside. The stable has a grid of square stalls, each one stuffed with hay and feather blankets, except for the stall Traxon takes us to, which has been completely remodeled to look like a holo-show’s studio set.

Stage lights hover in the corners, and a rectangular bench of hay presses into the wall beneath a holographic banner bearing the title: Trax the Truth Tracker.

“Okay, Rho, are you my whistleblower?” he asks, adjusting the settings of one of three floating cameras, the lens aimed at the show’s title graphic. “If you don’t want to be identified, I can apply a shadow filter that only shows your silhouette.”

“Actually,” says Pandora, bravely sitting down on the hay bench, “we want to answer your ultimatum with another choice.”

She clears her throat and straightens, summoning the quiet strength she showed when we first met. “You can either cheapen your Truther brand by running a story that pries into the personal lives of people who served the Zodiac honorably. Or you can get an exclusive interview with the Wandering Star . . . after you’ve done something for us.”

Traxon looks taken aback for the first time, and I could kiss Pandora for wiping the confident smirk off his face.

“We need to know where the money for the Tomorrow Party is coming from,” she goes on, without waiting for his answer. “We have only pieces of the picture, but if you can get us the parts we’re missing, we’ll be able to pool together what we know and sort out what’s happening. Then Rho can relate the real story to your viewers.”

Traxon looks from her to me and back to her. It’s not an ideal plan—she’s still leaving me on the hook for an interview—but her strategy of making Trax work for us is inspired.

“Don’t you think I’ve already tried to find that information?” he asks. “They’re using crazy advanced encryption for their financials.”

“But now you’ll be incentivized,” says Pandora, and when Trax glares at her, I almost smile.

“If I agree to kill one story, delay another, and do your legwork for you, then I need to know you’ve actually got something for me.” His eyes narrow on me, and the good humor melts from my mood. “Give me a taste.”

Without thinking it over, I hear myself reciting from memory: “Planet XDZ5709.”

His adorned brows slope downward. “What will I find when I look it up?”

“A permit for scientific exploration in the Plenum’s public records.”

Shrugging, he asks, “And I care because?”

“The research is being sponsored by the Tomorrow Party.”

Traxon cracks his knuckles, and his eyes dart from person to person, like he’s trying to glimpse the catch in one of our faces. When he doesn’t find it, he says, “How do I know you’ll keep up your end of the bargain?”

“If you get us this information, I’ll give you an interview,” I say. “I swear it on—”

“I don’t want you to swear,” he says, picking at his unkempt beard. “I want proof I can touch.”

I look to Pandora for guidance, but she looks back at me just as confused. “What do you mean by that?” I ask Traxon.

“Leave something of yours with me,” he says, still grooming his facial hair. “Something you’ll come back for.”

I run through my scarce belongings in my mind. Nothing I own has any monetary value save for my Wave, and I’m not giving that up.

“Here.” Stan tosses something small and black, and Trax reflexively catches it.

“What’s this?” he asks, holding the black scorpion to his eyes and scrutinizing the red dots on its shell.

“It’s an Echo.” As my brother speaks, I meet Mathias’s midnight gaze, and I spy a look of realization as he connects this device to Link’s accusation on Sconcion. “You can use it to spy on all communications being sent nearby,” says Stan, and as he explains the technology to Traxon, the Leonine’s eyebrows climb progressively higher on his face. By the time my brother stops talking, Trax is staring at the device almost reverently. I have a feeling we’re never getting it back.

He slips the Echo in his dirty trouser pocket and then asks me, “How will I reach you when I have something to share?”

“I’ll give you my contact information,” I say. “But first, tell me about House Ophiuchus.”

Traxon beams like a pet that’s just been offered a treat. “Before I begin, I have to preface what I’m about to disclose with a disclaimer,” he says in a strangely professional tone. It sounds like he’s reading from a script he knows by heart. “There’s been a lot of debate and dissent in the study of the Thirteenth House, so the facts I’m about to share are based on my research and what I believe to be true.”

His shift into host persona is so sudden that I’m distracted enough to almost forget to hate him. “Based on what we believe about Ophiuchans’ biological makeup, we suspect they lived in a marshy world, a planet filled with poisonous plants and lethal wildlife—”

“What do you know about the people?” I ask impatiently.

“The majority of 13’s members agree Ophiuchus most likely represented Unity. At their best, Ophiuchans were thought to have been spirited, magnetic, compassionate, and clever; at their worst, they were jealous, power hungry, and temperamental. Physically, the House had the greatest diversity of the Zodiac—skin, hair, and eye color spanned the full range of the spectrum. And when they entered puberty, Ophiuchans developed scaly skin that protected them from some creatures’ bites and dangerous natural elements.”

Corinthe’s reptilian voice slithers through my thoughts, and a slow chill ripples down my spine. What if the molting process Risers undergo is because they’re actually trying to morph into their natural, scaly bodies?

And when they can’t, their soul takes its next best fit?

“You’re tuning me out,” says an annoyed Traxon, frowning at me. “Look, I know threatening you with your secrets was a low move, and I wish I didn’t have to resort to dirty tricks just to get politicians to tell the truth for a change.”

Did he really just call me a politician?

“But forget about me a moment, and think about what’s best for our galaxy. There are fewer facts known about House Ophiuchus than there are about the Last Prophecy—and I’m talking about an entire world that was lost to our solar system, not some silly superstition. You are the only person who’s had actual contact with that House—with its Original Guardian, at that!—so only you have the chance to fill in those lost chapters of our history. You could interview him, talk to him, get his side of the story—”

“What’s the Last Prophecy?”

Traxon’s round eyes look like they’re going to shoot out of his head. “That’s all you heard?” he blares, and I cross my arms and stare at him in stubborn silence until he relents. “Come on, you know what the Last Prophecy is. You’re the Wandering Star, one of the best seers in our solar system. You have to know it!”

“Drop the condescension,” snaps my brother, who’s standing beside me.

Traxon rakes his hair back, and his finger gets stuck in a knot. “It’s a prophecy that was made by an Original Guardian,” he says, tugging at the tangle, “and it foretells how the Zodiac will end.”

“How could something like that be around without us knowing?” Mathias leans against the wall beside the hay bench, near Pandora. He sounds as put off by Traxon as my brother.

“Because it’s been forgotten,” says Traxon. “No one’s taken it seriously in centuries. Back in the day, people really believed in it, and there was even a myth that Zodai over the ages who saw this Prophecy would get tapped into a secret group of seers that was fighting to reverse it. Have you ever heard that old fashioned greeting, ‘Light of the sun be with you?’”

The others shake their heads, but Hysan’s voice echoes through my memory. He said that to me in ’Nox’s nose a few lifetimes ago, when we left Phaetonis. I’d thought it a strangely antiquated saying, but nothing more.

“What about it?” I ask.

“They say the greeting originated as a way for believers of the Prophecy to test if they were talking to a fellow follower.”

Again I find myself wishing Hysan were here. He must know about the Last Prophecy because he knows about everything else. But is he a believer?

“When does the Last Prophecy say the Zodiac will end?” asks Pandora.

“Sometime this millennium. I’m sure the Prophecy will be back in vogue in some nations now that we’re within range of its alleged deadline; bound to be some great end-of-the-worlds parties.”

I force a mask of disinterest over my features, but I spy Pandora’s frightened face in the periphery of my vision, and I know she’s thinking of the omen she’s been Seeing, the one where our galactic sun goes dark.

“How does the Prophecy say the Zodiac will end?” I chance.

Traxon pulls at another knot in his hair. “Even I don’t see how this could happen. Nor do the Zodiac’s leading scientists, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“This is painful,” says Stan, crossing his arms like it’s the only way he’ll keep his fists under control. “Can you just answer a damn question without the benefit of your expertopinion?”

Traxon glares at my brother and waits an annoyingly long moment before saying, “The Last Prophecy says the Zodiac will end in the third millennium.” Still staring at Stan, he draws out another pause, and then he finally says what Pandora has been dreading to hear. “When Helios shuts off her light.”

23

HALF AN HOUR LATER, THEfour of us are having lunch in a different dining hall, far from the ninth tower. Platters of food sit between us, but only the guys are eating. Pandora and I are still digesting what we learned from Traxon.

I let my head fall in my hands and close my eyes to try to focus. The Last Prophecy, Black Moon, the Marad, the master, Mom . . . my life is filling with too many more questions than answers, and the few facts I do know I can’t force into any discernible design.

“The Taurian Guardian was tailing you last night,” says Stan, his mouthful of food muffling his voice.

I snap my head up. “What?”

“At the ball,” he says after swallowing. “When you started talking to Ambassador Crompton, she used an audio amplifier to eavesdrop.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin.

Mathias frowns. “Why was she here?” he asks, abandoning his half-eaten steak. “She didn’t have to come to the event if she’s already sponsoring the Party. And if she was coming, why didn’t she give the speech instead of Crompton? She’s much higher profile.”

“I’m not sure it’d be in the Party’s best interest to publically tie themselves to her right now,” I say tentatively. “She’s come under fire for her defense of Risers.”

But Mathias is right. Why did she come? Was her sole reason to ask me to lie to the Plenum for her? Shouldn’t she be more concerned with what’s happening on Pisces? Shouldn’t we all be?

“I really think Pisces is the key to everything,” says Stanton, his thoughts unsurprisingly straying to the same place as mine. “That’s where we need to be. Whatever’s happening to that world is the master’s next move.”

“But what does the master gain by wiping out every Piscene?” I ask, not exactly disagreeing, but just thinking through the theory out loud. “It’s the poorest and most selfless House of the Zodiac. They share every civic duty and have no monetary system or industry. Their only ‘exports’ are their visions.”

“It’s a word of seers,” says Pandora, nodding along with me, “and now the master is blinding them.”

Cold air rushes into my lungs, and I exhale.

“Helios,”I whisper, leaning into the round table. Crompton’s voice sounds in my head—Maybe there’s just something she’s afraid I’ll See. It was his Sight, not his voice, that got him in trouble.

Moira was our foremost Psy expert before she was attacked, and Origene and Caasy were ranked second and third after her. Who knows how many other attacks—like the Elder assassinations, the drowning on Oscuro, the explosions on Leo—have really been targeted strikes on our best seers? Ferez believes the hit on Capricorn was really to retrieve a specific Snow Globe the master was after—so maybe every one of these large-scale attacks conceals a secret.

“What if the master is trying to destabilize the Psy to keep us from Seeing what he’s planning?” I ask.

“If that’s true,” says Mathias, and in his tone I hear the same seeds of skepticism as when I told him my theory of Ochus on Oceon 6, “why not destroy the Fish constellation all at once, like he did with our House? Why did his attack come with a two-month incubation period?”

I think about the master’s most recent attacks. They were on Capricorn and Pisces . . . and neither of them used Dark Matter.

“He needs a more powerful weapon to take out planets again,” I say slowly, “and he hasn’t used Dark Matter since the armada.” Not since Ophiuchus told me he wanted to change sides.

I have to find him again and convince him I’m not weak. As hateful as it is to admit, I need his help—and I especially need to do whatever it takes to keep him from returning to the master’s side.

“Mathias is right, though,” says Pandora. “Two months is a long incubation time.” She spins the Philosopher’s Stone in her hand. “Having seen his army up close, the master is too organized for this kind of delay not to be deliberate.”

“Maybe he wanted to lull us into a false sense of security so we’d stop searching for him,” says Stan. “It’s worked, hasn’t it? The Plenum declared Peace.”

None of us speaks for a while, and I get the impression we’re each lost in our own train of thought.

“Something about the Tomorrow Party jolted me.” We all look at Pandora.

“It was a word that threw me . . . Captain. It’s probably coincidence; I mean, it’s such a small, random, insignificant detail.” She looks to Mathias, but his expression is still unreadable.

When she speaks again, she sounds smaller somehow, like she’s had to travel to a dark place to retrieve these words. “Captain was what the Marad called their senior officers.”

None of us says anything, but my heart starts racing like a percussive progression that’s building to a drumroll. She’s right, it means nothing, it’s just a word, barely a clue—

I try drowning the realization rising within me so the words won’t pass through my lips, but my heart is too loud to hear my thoughts, and they break through despite me.

“The Tomorrow Party.”

I sound breathless even though I haven’t moved. “Stan, you said yourself the Party is only catering to the elite. Every prospective member is young and ambitious and special. They’re being recruited the same way Risers were wooed to join the Marad—hopeful meetings about ideology that soon devolved into a darker agenda. And they seem to have unending funds that can’t be corroborated, just like the Marad. The master is the only person we know with deep enough pockets to pull this off.”

“You’re saying the master is behind the Tomorrow Party?” Mathias asks, not bothering to disguise his disbelief. “Why?”

“Because violence was uniting us.” Everyone waits for me to go on, and my heart keeps beating too hard as the thoughts in my head begin to connect. “The moment the Plenum forgave me and made me Wandering Star, we became powerful, and that made us a threat. So he—or she—decided to change tactics. The master is a student of history. He or she knows the best way to divide us is from the inside. Just imagine what will happen when this Party goes public with Black Moon. This kind of movement is bound to rile up every House’s passions. It’s the perfect distraction. Instead of a common enemy we can gang up on, he’s making us point fingers at ourselves.”

I’m reminded of something Hysan once told me—The greater our need to unite, the deeper we divide. “It’s what happened during the Trinary Axis, and in the Cancrian poem about Ochus. By undermining our unity, we’re easier to pick off.”

My words of doom suffocate the conversation. I’m sure that, just like me, my friends are combing through what they know and trying to poke holes in my reasoning. But I’m certain I’m right—this sounds exactly like something the master would do. Just like he turned our own tactics against us during the armada, he’s now trying to turn our brightest people against each other. He’s sewing seeds of distrust to destabilize our fragile unity and ensuring his own victory by sabotaging us.

He never went away. He just found himself a new army.

Myarmy.

“What about Fernanda?” asks Stan. “If she’s a sponsor, could she be behind everything?”

I shake my head. “If she was the master, she wouldn’t be so outspoken about Risers. I think she was just taken in by this Party, like the rest of us.”

Pandora looks unconvinced. “The liar’s best tool is his honesty,” she says. “On Aquarius, there’s a saying about that—Truth builds trust, and trust blinds truth.”

I think of Aryll, and how every time he fed me a false truth, I trusted him more. But I still don’t think Fernanda is the one behind everything.

“All I know is the Tomorrow Party is a distraction, and we’re playing into the master’s hands, again,” I say, meeting my brother’s determined gaze. “You’ve been right this whole time, Stan. We need to get to Pisces and defend that House before it disappears from the Zodiac. If the master is trying to get rid of our best seers, that means his biggest move is coming.”

“But if he’s targeting our best seers,” says Pandora softly, “why hasn’t he killed you yet?”

“He’s been trying to this whole time,” says Stan darkly.

But I remember the Marad soldiers saying the master didn’t want me dead yet. Then I think of my recent experiences with Skiff, Fernanda, and Ophiuchus, and the truth is too obvious to obfuscate. “Because he wants something from me.”

And knowing he wants me alive is more terrifying than being marked for death.

24

MATHIAS AND PANDORA DON’T SEEMas confident in the Tomorrow Party’s complicity as Stan and I are, but as we head back to the ninth tower, I feel a unity of purpose with my brother that feels familiar and right.

Our agreed-upon plan is to go back to our rooms and pack so that we can leave this planet as soon as possible. But first, there are a few things I need to do. When we reach the burgundy-and-blue cloth, Stan activates the staircase, and while he and Pandora climb up, I pull Mathias aside.

“I’m sorry about . . . earlier,” I say, standing with him by the sandstone wall, in the shadow of the staircase.

“I don’t want to talk about the Libran—”

“Well that’s kind of a problem, because I need you to coordinate transportation with him to see if he can fly us out of here.”

Mathias’s midnight eyes scrutinize mine, and the acidic guilt gnaws at me again. He nods tersely. “But you and your brother need to slow down with your theories,” he says, his jaw tight. “You’re assuming a lot of things without proof.”

“I know, but I think we’ve been trusting only what we can touch for so long that we’ve forgotten the importance of trusting our instincts, too. Maybe if we used them more, they’d be better honed.”

He grimaces with disapproval. “And what of your brother’s instinct to steal that device from Scorpio?”

“It proved useful, didn’t it?” I say weakly.

“Rho, he’s not coping well. You’re not helping by encouraging him, and you can’t let him lead you down his reckless path.”

“I’m not. I actually think having a sense of purpose again will help him heal,” I say hopefully, and to end the discussion, I add, “But thanks for looking out for us.”

He nods and goes to climb the stairs, but he stops moving when I don’t follow. “Where are you going?”

“Reading room.” The line between his eyes deepens, and I add, “I’m thinking if we can’t predict the master’s next move, maybe a star can.”

“Ophiuchus?” It sounds strange to hear Mathias say the name seriously and not spiked with sarcasm.

I nod. “Then I’ll find Nishi and tell her everything, and we’ll come get you guys once we’re packed and ready to go. I just need you to arrange the pick-up details with Hysan.”

“What if Nishi doesn’t believe you?”

I start walking down the hall. “If the choice is between abandoning her and knocking her out, I will be carrying Nishi out of the castle.”

•   •   •

I’m relieved to find the underground reading room empty.

Standing amid the holographic lights, I stare into the rocky rubble that was once the brightest blue jewel in the Zodiac and try pushing everything far from my mind. Last night I trusted my heart over my head and it led me to Hysan. I now try letting my instinct lead me again as I sink into my Center, and when jittery Psynergy invades my lungs, I call out to Ophiuchus with my mind.

Almost instantly a wintry wind overtakes the cave. I pull on my black coat, so I don’t shiver as the Thirteenth Guardian’s giant icy shape takes form and grows to twice my size. His black eyes watch me impassively as the temperature steadily drops.

I think of how Traxon can set aside his personal feelings for someone in his search for the truth, and I try to relinquish my revulsion for Ochus so that I can do the same now.

If we’re going to work together, I need to know more about you, I say.

Ask your questions then, he booms, and unlike the resistance I was expecting, he sounds calm, like I’ve finally said the right thing. We haven’t time to waste, crab.

Before I begin firing off questions, I envision an icy wall of Psynergy encasing my heart, barricading my emotions from infecting our interaction. The only way to have this conversation is by not making it about me.

You claim the other Guardians betrayed you because you attempted to achieve immortality—

Immortality wasn’t a discovery I made, he cuts in. Eternal life was a power given to me by my Talisman, because as the Guardian of Unity, I was meant to remain a living star among you.

I blink. What?

Unity does not merely extend to the Houses; I was once the glue between man and the stars, reality and the astral plane, the past and the future. His voice drops, like he’s mining deeper and deeper depths as he talks. I was never meant to die; I was to link humanity through the ages, so that you would never again forget each other, as you had in your old world.

Mom’s necklace flashes through my thoughts, and I think of House Ophiuchus not as a thirteenth pearl but as the chain holding our whole solar system together. So you were going to be . . . a god living among us?But how could they have defeated youif you were immortal?

He glares at me in icy silence, and he seems to be reevaluating his decision to share anything with me. I will share what I want you to know.

That’s not how this works, I shoot back. Either tell me the full story, or go find someone else to help you.

We stare at each other, and I force myself to summon every vestige of bravery in me so I won’t look away. I know I’m risking pain and violence by challenging him, but it’s time I hear his full story. The Zodiac can’t wait any longer.

Again, I start to ask, How did they defeat—

When I realized the gift I’d been given, he says in a harsh voice, I wanted to harness the power of my Talisman to lengthen human lives. I’ve had millennia to relive that life, and still I don’t know how I was found out. All I know is the other Guardians discovered my Talisman’s power, and they were outraged to learn that it was their destiny to perish and return to the stars, while I would remain on the mortal plane.

His form shrinks a little, and the cold air is less cutting. They insisted I share my immortality with them. I was given one year to work on a solution, and they threatened that if I couldn’t manage it on my own, they would confiscate my Talisman to investigate it themselves.

I’m so spellbound by his tale that I don’t realize until he’s midway through that his voice is no longer frosty and deafening, but rather it’s rising and falling, sharp and soft, rushing and halting. He’s talking like a human.

Only when I got home . . . the Talisman was gone. When I reported its theft to the other Guardians, they accused me of lying to keep my immortality for myself. I was charged with treason against the other Houses and sentenced to execution.

I shake my head. But you couldn’t die—

Silence! he booms, and a blast of cold air slams into me, knocking me off my feet. Pain echoes through me as I land on my arm, and I glare at him as I sit up, my breathing shallow.

If you want to kill me, do it, I say softly, gluing my gaze to his.

The rage fades from his expression, and he looks taken aback.

Do it, I say again from the floor. When he still doesn’t react, I slowly rise to my feet. You need my help just as much as I need yours. So quit acting like you’re the one in charge, and just tell me the truth. How did they do this to you?

To my extreme shock, he answers me.

Immortality works in cycles, he begins in a toneless voice, just like everything else in Nature. Eternal life isn’t a matter of locking one’s soul into an everlasting body, because all organic life dies. Instead, my Talisman functioned as a super-powered Psynergy source that enabled me to generate a new body when the one I inhabited gave out. Without the stone I couldn’t regenerate. And yet my essence did not return to the stars. I retained sentience without form. I could not touch or be seen. I could only float through the astral plane without affecting anything, pulled by a different kind of gravity. I was still enslaved to mortality’s master . . . Time.

He sighs, and the sadness within him is so deep that it infects the molecules of Psynergy in the air around us. The emotion feels like a heavy blanket that’s been draped over me, and my shoulders sag as even breathing begins to feel like too much work.

The Psynergy from people of every House attuned me to the changes in the worlds, making me torturously aware of time’s passing. I listened to the emotional symphony of humanity, watching you endure the same mistakes over and over again, slowly forgetting what you’d learned in your exodus to this new world. You were stuck in the same cycles of hate because you were still driven by your fear and not your faith.

The mist of ice that accompanies his presence seems to fill with pieces of the past, and I feel the Psynergy around us pressing in on me, probably as he always feels it. It’s like being shouted at by billions of competing voices—disembodied emotions, phantom physical pains, visions of the future—and it’s hard to withstand even for just a moment. I can’t imagine enduring it forever.

After being forced to watch my beloved House crushed by Dark Matter, I started to feel the Psynergy of lost Ophiuchan souls trying to Rise out of their ill-suited bodies. I hoped this time the stars might show my children mercy—but they betrayed us again. Instead of setting these Rising Ophiuchans free, fate forced them to assume slightly less uncomfortable forms, yet never the one that truly reflected them.

And as if the pain of not fitting into their own bodies wasn’t enough, humanity cast my people off as completely as the stars. They ostracized Risers and subjected them to inhumane hate. I longed to stop watching, to undo time, to cease existing. Yet I could not end my life because I wasn’t alive. And so, as the centuries passed, I grew to hate you.

Something small and warm cracks the Psynergy shell guarding my heart, and to my horror, I realize it’s pity. But I will not—cannot—commiserate with my father’s murderer. The destroyer of my world.

The being whose existence I vowed to end.

When did the master find you?

The sadness in the air has shifted into something darker and heavier. Two years ago I heard a voice addressing me for the first time in millennia. It whispered in my ear, telling me nothing of itself but offering a way out of my condition. The voice painted a picture of my House returning to its former glory, and the other Houses suffering for their ignorance and brutality. I didn’t need to know more—I only wanted the chance to exist again. So I pledged my allegiance to my new master, and when he combined his Psynergy with mine, we were able to direct Dark Matter to disturb the natural order of things. We produced forest fires on the Leonine moons, mud slides in the Hoof on Vitulus, drought in the Piscene planetoids . . . and then, one day, he told me we were going to destroy a whole House.

His dark eyes lock on mine, and the hole that pity burned into my heart’s shield repairs itself. But Ochus is looking at me curiously, like there’s something I might be able to add to his unbelievable story.

How did you discover me in the Psy the first time we spoke? he suddenly asks me.

I think back to that night. I heard voices coming from Helios, and when I touched the hologram, I appeared in the slipstream.

He shakes his icy head. How could a mere mortal access that dimension?

Another Guardian’s words echo in my memory—You have been singled out, but not by the one you think. Caasy said the person challenging me in the Psy was someone using “a timeless weapon.” If Ophiuchus wasn’t the one singling me out, then he was the weapon. The master brought us together, I say.

He stares at me like he’s considering my theory. Original Guardians were the only ones who could communicate through the Psy; there’s no way I could have found Ochus unless someone guided me to him. The same someone who guided Ochus’s manipulation of Dark Matter.

Ever since I saw you that first time, he says, I’ve been able to find you. Even when I’ve been hiding from him. Perhaps, in enabling us to interact that first night, he unwittingly opened a Psynergy pathway between us that he can’t close.

I nod. Vecily Matador’s vision when she first became Guardian of Taurus was that a Guardian had long ago betrayed all the others, and there would be no trust in the Zodiac until that treachery was brought to light. If Ochus didn’t betray anyone, that means another fallen star betrayed them all.

The master is another Original Guardian, I say, and as I accept this truth, at last I trust Ophiuchus. Like Risers, he’s another homeless, hopeless soul the master has taken advantage of for his own ends.

Which other Guardians knew about the information in your Talisman?

The Talisman is a secret entrusted to one House; I would not have betrayed my people by sharing it. I have never known how the other Guardians learned of the immortality stored within it.

Can you think of anyone who could have feasibly figured it out?

Have you not been listening? he booms, the temperature dropping as his voice rises. I have thought of little else for millennia. If there were clues in my past, I would have found them.

Guardian Sagittarius was obsessed with time and would have been fascinated by such an object. Guardian Aquarius would have longed to use the Talisman to ensure the royal line would continue forever. The Geminin Guardians would have wanted nothing more than eternal life. Anyone could have had reason to steal it.

There’s another Original Guardian around, I say out loud, to organize my thoughts, and since the Talisman lets him or her change their body, it could be anyone, anywhere.

Ophiuchus turns his back to me, and the movement almost makes him seem vulnerable. He’s looking at the place beyond Pisces, where his House once was. The jittery Psynergy around us makes the Dark Matter writhe like a nest of sea snakes.

Over time, as I watched my constellation’s light fade from the night sky, I also watched it fade from human memory. The Original Guardians vilified me to the Zodiac, blaming me for my world’s destruction, until the last generations of humans who knew about the Thirteenth House passed on. My peers lived a handful of centuries each, and they must have agreed to erase me from their House’s history, because by the time their bodies became stardust, every trace of a Thirteenth world in the Zodiac was wiped from official record. The only thing they couldn’t change was art. So I snaked through time, unnoticed, hidden in your nursery rhymes and morality tales and childhood lullabies.

And now, I have become the villain you created.

I don’t say anything because there’s nothing to be said. I may trust his version of events, and I may even see that he’s been betrayed, but I still hate him. I will always hate him.

The part I don’t understand, I say, treading away from my emotions, is how Dark Matter swallowed your House. The Guardians punished you, not your planet.

Ochus faces me again, and his expression is so human that there might still be a heart buried beneath all that snow.

The Guardians’ treachery ushered Dark Matter into our galaxy. By subverting the natural order of things and setting themselves against me, they failed to understand the fundamentals of Unity. They didn’t grasp that in ousting me, the Zodiac was attacking itself—and this self-inflicted wound uprooted Unity from our solar system.

He’s still wearing a startlingly human stare as he says, Haven’t you noticed yet? We create our own darkness.

So the Original Guardians destroyed the Thirteenth House, then they hid their shame by erasing Ophiuchus from history. And if Mom’s a Riser, that means I’m descended from that forgotten world, making Cancer the second home I’ve lost.

My Mom is a Riser. I’m not sure why I say it.

I know.

How? I blurt.

Everything is Psynergy. What you bring with you into this dimension is not your physical form, but your soul. The thoughts and memories and feelings that make you—

He stops speaking suddenly and turns toward the Thirteenth House, like he hears something. As the jittery Psynergy tenses around us, I realize Ochus is Seeing a vision. What is it?

I’m not sure,he says in a tone so distant, he already seems to be fading. The Dark Matter covering my constellation seems to be . . . awakening.

A bitter taste stings my tongue, and the rotting smell of decay invades my nose. Ochus turns to me like he tastes it, too, his black eyes wide.

Death is coming for you again, Rhoma Grace. It’s the first time he’s ever said my name, and I strain to hear the rest of his prophecy as he dissolves into icy mist.

And this time, you will not escape its touch.

25

WHEN OCHUS DISAPPEARS, MY HEARTBEATis making it too hard to think, and I’m breathing like I’ve just run farther than I have my whole life.

My whole life.

Could this be it? Are seventeen and a half years all I’ll know? It’s more time than most of my classmates got.

From the moment I became Guardian, I’ve known that any day could be my last. But since coming to Aquarius, and learning about Black Moon, and reuniting with Hysan, I found myself facing not just a future worth fighting for, but one worth living. Hope came in the form of a tomorrow I desperately want to be around to experience.

But there isn’t time to mourn myself now, and that means I have to wall this knowledge off and forget I ever learned it. And if Ferez is right, and free will is stronger than fate, then who knows? Maybe I’ll even defy my stars.

•   •   •

I carefully crack open the trapdoor, and seeing the coast is clear I climb onto the sandstone floor and race toward the ninth tower. As the burgundy-and-blue cloth waves into view, someone topples into me.

“Oh—sorry!”

“Rho, it’s me,” says Nishi near my ear. She interlocks her arm with mine and pulls me hurriedly down the hall in the opposite direction.

She cuts across a sunlit drawing room, and neither of us speaks as we weave through valets in velvet top hats and high-ranking dignitaries in aqua coats. “What’d you find?” I ask once we’re out of that room.

She doesn’t answer me until white mist overtakes us, and we’re ensconced in the clouds of a thought tunnel. Then she finally stops moving and faces me.

I take her hand and squeeze it. “Since we’re taking precautions, I’m guessing you found something?”

“I’m sorry about earlier, Rho. I wanted to prove you wrong, so while Blaze met with the Locations Committee, I went through the Black Moon population lists we’ve been passing around for every House.”

I bite my lip to keep my mouth shut, and she sighs, like she knows everything I’m not saying. “Look, I’m not saying it was right, but we did block off a percentage of spots for sponsors. It’s just how things get done. But that’s not the point. I wanted to find the list of interested people from House Pisces so I could show you there was always a plan to bring them in eventually . . . only there wasn’t one.”

Her amber eyes remind me of the terrified look she wore on Equinox. “The Piscene plague appeared only a week ago, and these lists date back to before my involvement with the Party. So how did they know Pisces wouldn’t be around to participate?”

This is the exactly the kind of evidence we can use to expose the Party—and it’s the proof Mathias needs to believe me. “It’s the master, Nishi. He’s behind the Tomorrow Party.”

“But how, Rho?” she asks, her voice splintering.

“The Marad disappeared around the same time the Tomorrow Party emerged,” I say softly. “The master is manipulating the people best suited to lead our war against him. It’s a preemptive attack. We think it’s a distraction from whatever he’s planning for Pisces, so that’s where we need to go.”

Nishi’s expression is so broken that I pull her in for a hug because I can’t stand to see her like this. It hurts even more that I know intimately how it feels to be taken in by something so completely that you give your whole self over to it—and when it’s ripped away from you, you feel like you’re left with less of yourself than you started with.

“I can’t believe I fell for this,” she says when we pull away, her face pallid. “I really thought Blaze was a good person.”

A shadow flickers over her shoulder, and I take Nishi’s hand, spinning her around to my side as a silhouette presses into the fog.

“I am a good person.”

Nishi gasps as blue-haired Blaze steps through the white smoke, his russet eyes afire. How did he find us here?

Fear quickens my pulse and my breathing as Nishi and I back away from him slowly. Is he alone? Are others surrounding us?

“I still want to build a united tomorrow for the Zodiac,” says Blaze calmly. “And if you give me a chance to tell you what we’ve Seen, I think you’ll understand.”

“Not if it means joining sides with the master,” growls Nishi, and I squeeze her hand twice to signal her to be ready.

Blaze’s features harden, but not in an angry way. He looks hurt. The holographic lion on his shirt roars soundlessly from his chest. “You don’t have the full picture yet, so you don’t understand. But we’re saving people. When you and I first spoke a month ago, you told me the only way to change the norm is to break it. Remember that?”

Nishi’s hand goes limp in mine; the reference to Deke is like a shot to the heart. Blaze pins her with his confident stare, and even now there’s something so fiercely likable about him that it’s hard to picture him on the master’s side. “Change isn’t always accommodating, and that’s why people resist it. But if you trust me, I’ll prove to you why it’s our best choice.”

Corinthe’s reptilian voice plays in my mind—Acceptance of the new only comes with the ousting of the old. Her motto sounds a lot like Deke’s. In the wrong hands, the same philosophy can be dangerous.

Blaze’s shoulders cave inward the tiniest bit, and I flash to Trax’s predatory pose before he pounced on me with his interrogation.

“Run!”I shout. Hands linked together, Nishi and I hurtle blindly through the white fog. Sweat drips down my back as we race away from him, and I’m momentarily relieved when I don’t hear Blaze’s footsteps behind us.

Until I realize that if he’s not following us, we must be doing what he wants.

The cottony clouds grow stringy as we approach the end of the tunnel, and hints of the sandstone wall break through the mist. I slow down to decide whether we should double back, but Nishi keeps going forward at full speed.

I yank her back by the hand. “Wait—”

Her face breaks through the cloud covering for a moment, and something small and metallic whizzes through the air, striking her forehead.

“NO!”

My scream splits the universe, and I reach for my best friend as she falls to the floor, the lines of her face slackening. I catch Nishi by the waist and drop with her, cradling her face on my lap, my tears sprinkling onto her skin as I check her for signs of breath.

“Nishi—please—please, you have to be okay, please wake up—”

“She’s not dead.”

Nishi’s attacker stands over us, her twin-barreled gun trained on the same spot of my forehead. “It’s a Sumber,” says Imogen. “She’s trapped in her subconscious.”

It’s only now I realize how little I trust anyone anymore. I’m not even surprised by Imogen’s betrayal.

“Which pellet?” I ask in an even voice, remembering from Mom’s lessons that Gemini’s signature weapon has two chambers. One barrel releases a pellet that unlocks a person’s innermost dreams, while the other unleashes their deepest nightmares.

“Use your imagination.”

I glare at Imogen with a hatred I didn’t think my heart was capable of producing, and I find myself thinking of the Scarab wrapped around my wrist. If only I could reach under my black glove without tipping her off. But even if I could, I still have no idea how to use it.

She must spy the threat in my eyes because she swings the gun’s nozzle to Nishi’s forehead again. A double dose causes a brain aneurysm that’s instantly fatal.

“Don’t,”I say, hugging Nishi closer and protecting her with my body. “Please.”

“Then get up.”

I hold Nishi to me a moment longer, then I carefully rest her head on the sandstone. Her face betrays no evidence of what she’s going through internally, and I desperately hope she’s dreaming happy things.

Blaze emerges through the haze as I get to my feet. “I’ll give you a choice,” says Imogen, as the Leonine bundles Nishi’s limp limbs in his arms.

“What are you doing?” I demand, reaching out to take Nishi back from Blaze, but Imogen’s gun points at my head again.

“Shut up and come with us willingly,” she says, walking over until the gun’s cold metal nozzle touches my forehead, blocking Blaze and Nishi from view. “Or I’ll drop you into your worst nightmares and drag you with us anyway.”

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper. “I thought you believed in Nishi’s leadership. You said you wanted to unite the Zodiac, that I inspired you—”

“You did,” she says, and behind her, I watch Blaze retreat into the thought tunnel with my best friend in his arms. “You taught me to trust my convictions. You showed me I must be willing give my life for my beliefs, even if others won’t understand at first.”

Without thinking, I shove hard against Imogen’s arm, pointing the Sumber away from myself, and she tumbles to the floor in her spindly heels. Then I run into the mist after Nishi.

“Blaze, stop!” I shout into the white fog, desperately searching for some sign of his silhouette. “Take me instead!”

Nails dig into my coat sleeve, pressing into my scars, and I yelp with pain. Imogen heaves me back with her to the clear air by twisting my arm until it spasms. When she lets go, the aching brings me to my knees.

She presses the icy metal to my forehead again and whispers, “Good night, Rho.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for the shot—

The gun clatters to the floor, and I hear Imogen grunt in pain. When I look again, a hooded Aquarian in an aqua cloak has wrestled the Geminin to the ground, and they’re struggling to overtake each other.

I know I should stay and help, but Nishi is getting farther from me every moment, and I have to go after her. So I dive back into the white smoke, and immediately I hear a woman’s cry that doesn’t sound like Imogen.

I skid to a stop. I can’t let something happen to the Aquarian who saved me. Racing back to where I was, I see Imogen pinning my savior to the ground and holding a bloody knife to her chest.

Before I can think of how to help, the Aquarian rears up and knocks her head into Imogen’s, dazing the Geminin enough to loosen her grip on the knife. The hood falls off the Aquarian’s head as she pries the blade from Imogen’s fingers, and the latter leaps to her feet surprisingly fast.

The Aquarian rises quickly, too. Imogen looks from the knife in her hand, to the Sumber on the floor, and then to me, like she’s deciding whether it’s worth taking us both on empty-handed. Then she dives into the thought tunnel after Blaze.

“You all right?” I ask my savior, sparing her a quick glance before I run after Imogen. My feet are already carrying me into the fog when the Aquarian meets my gaze.

And her blue stare turns me to stone.

26

HER FACIAL FEATURES HAVE BEENedited—sharper cheekbones, longer nose, straighter hair. But the bottomless blue eyes are exactly as I remember them.

“It’s okay,” she says in an achingly familiar voice that makes me gasp.

The past ten years of my life shrink down within me, until my adolescence feels as fleeting as a vision in the Psy, an illusion of mist and shadow.

“It’s me.”

She barely moves her lips, like she’s afraid to spook me. Like she knows I’m still too small, too weak, too afraid.

“It’s Mom.”

Mom.The word tumbles through my mind, as if my brain is trying to place it.

She takes a single step forward and then winces, like she’s injured. I look down at the gash in her cloak, where blood stains her leg. But even if I wanted to help, I can’t. My body is leaden, like it doesn’t answer to me anymore.

“Rho, we need to go.”

At the sound of my name in her voice, my childhood fantasy comes flying back to me. I see the scene I used to replay of how I’d one day discover Mom on a far-away island looking for her long-lost memories. In my imagination, I was always so happy just to be reunited with her that I’d immediately forgive her for abandoning us.

She starts moving toward me again, her limp growing less pronounced with every step. And when her hand grips my arm, it’s not her memories that come rushing back, but mine.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

My scream is inhumanly high, and the words’ jagged edges slice into me on their way out.

The past decade seems to fill the space between us, and she backs away as a wheezing sound starts in my throat, like the air I’m breathing isn’t making it to my lungs. A tar-like substance seems to be filling my heart, clogging my veins and clouding my mind and consuming my oxygen.

“I’m not going anywhere without Nishi,” I say, my voice raspy and unfamiliar. “And especially not with you.”

“Yes, you are,” says a new voice, and I see Hysan emerging from the thought tunnel. “Are you hurt?” he asks, looking me over.

I shake my head. “Blaze and Imogen took Nishi—we have to find her!”

“We will.” He slips the Veil collar around my neck but doesn’t activate it. I grip his arm tightly.

“Hysan, you don’t understand. They’ll torture her, like they did me and Mathias and Pandora. We can’t leave her—”

“Rho.” He stares at me gravely, like I’m unwell. “I assure you she’s too important to the Party. They won’t hurt her. This isn’t the Marad; the Tomorrow Party won’t succeed if they use violence, and they know it.” He rests his hand on mine and presses my fingers. “Your brother, Mathias, and Pandora are already on their way to Equinox, but right now, your mom is right. We need to go before more Party members come looking for you.”

He tries nudging me forward, but my legs are still leaden. “How do you—”

“Your mom and I have been working together for a few weeks now,” he says softly. His green eyes seem to be pleading with me not to be angry, but I shake my head, refusing to hear him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Rho. It wasn’t safe.”

He glances at Kassandra and notices she’s leaning against the wall to keep her weight off her injured leg. “You’re hurt,” he says with concern, striding over to inspect her wound. “It’s not deep, but you’ll move faster if you lean on me.”

He offers her his shoulder, and when she touches him, I hear myself growl, “Get away from him!”

She instantly pulls back from his arm, and her eyes dart to mine. I spot a familiar darkness rising from their icy blue depths, and she hops a few times as she tries to stand on her own. That limp sure escalated quickly.

Who knows if the pain is real?

Who knows if anything about her is real?

“Rho, I’m going to help her,” insists Hysan, putting his arm around Kassandra and activating our networked Veils so that we’re invisible to any onlookers. She doesn’t resist his aid, but she keeps her gaze on me for a long time, like I’m the mysterious one here.

Rho, where are you? asks a musical voice in my head as we move invisibly through the castle.

I twist my Ring. On my way to Equinox. Are you with Stan and Pandora?

We’re on the ship. Are you with Hysan and Nishi?

Something massive climbs up my throat, and I can’t even think the words in my head, so I don’t answer.

We cross beneath the stained glass constellations, and as we step onto the waterfall plaza, three massive Pegazi land before us on the sand. Their timing is so exact, it’s like they’ve been tracking our movements.

Nishi’s pink horse isn’t among them.

Hysan deactivates our Veils, and when I look up into Candor’s black onyx eyes, she bows. I wish she could come away from here with me.

Hysan helps Kassandra onto the white winged horse and then turns to help me. Ignoring his hand, I hitch up my skirt and climb onto Candor’s back on my own.

“Rho, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you—”

“Candor, please,” I whisper, and immediately the Pegazi rears forward, speeding me away from him. I hug her velvety neck as waterfalls swell from my eyes, her warmth the only thing keeping me alive.

Cold air rakes my curls as she gallops toward the puffs of frosty steam ahead, rising from the invisible ice beneath us. There’s a deafening whoosh as her wings whip outward, and then she leaps off the sand-smothered ledge and into the pink sunset sky.

We soar over a vast vista of trees that gives way to rolling green hills with extravagant estates, and all I can think of is Nishi. The broken look on her face when she learned the truth about the Tomorrow Party. The metal dart from Imogen’s Sumber striking her forehead. Blaze carrying her away from me through the white smoke.

I left her.

I abandoned my best friend.

My sister.

A black hole opens inside me, inhaling my soul into its vortex, and I scream until I have nothing left inside.

“Turn back, Candor!We have to go back to the castle!” The hysterical pitch of my voice scrapes my throat, burning it raw.

“Please! Turn around! NOW!I have to get back to Nishi!”

The Pegazi ignores my desperate pleas, and every flap of her wings takes me farther from Nishi and further from breathing. I shouldn’t have followed Hysan out. I shouldn’t have stayed to make sure mysavior was okay. I should have gone after Nishi as soon as I had the chance.

Candor lands on the same grassy field where we first met, only instead of the sparkly, star-shaped Tomorrow Party vessel, there’s the familiar bullet-shaped spaceship that’s become as comforting as a real home. I wipe my face on my jacket sleeve, and Candor bows so I can slide off her back.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as she straightens, my voice too hoarse to say more, my gaze too heavy to lift from the grass.

She whinnies so softly, it almost sounds like she’s whispering back, and her hot breath blows on my hair. Before I can lift my face to hers, I feel her moist snout press down gently on my forehead.

When I look up in wonder, her heavy hooves are already clopping across the cliff, and then faster than a shooting star, she vanishes into the dusky sky.

•   •   •

I lag a few steps behind as Hysan helps Kassandra board, and we find Stan, Mathias, and Pandora eagerly awaiting us in the nose.

“Where’s Nishi?” asks Stan, staring after the Aquarian woman with curiosity but not familiarity.

I don’t answer. I feel the weight of Mathias’s and Pandora’s gazes on me, but I can’t meet them. Hysan helps Kassandra into one of the seats by the control helm, and when he steps back, she ducks her head to check out her leg wound.

Stan’s eyes are on her long, white-blond locks, which obscure the ivory facial features. I’m not sure if he realizes he’s moving closer to her.

When Kassandra lifts her head, my brother falls to his knees in shock. I start to go to him, but I see her stand, and I’m immobilized.

Everyone is silent as she gingerly lowers herself to the floor. My brother stares and stares and stares at her redesigned face, until a voice I’ve never heard before seeps from his lips. “Mom?”

The sound cuts me open.

Cautiously, she leans closer, as if she’s anticipating the same rejection she got from me, and he stretches a hand toward her. When Stan’s fingers touch her cheek, he inhales sharply—and then he does what I couldn’t do.

He wraps his arms around our mother, burying his head in her shoulder. When she hugs him back, Stan’s body begins to shudder with gut-wrenching, cathartic sobs that seem to shake the whole ship.

Like he’s letting go of tears he’s been waiting his whole life to shed.