Zodiac

by Romina Russell

  When I leap to hug her, she fends me off. “Ugh. What’s that muck on your clothes?”

  I step back so I won’t drip on her. “Your zeppelin came through okay?”

  She twitches her nose at the smell. “No, our fuel tanks exploded, but the honorable Lord Neith saved me. Whoever designed my escape pod needs a brain transplant.” She rips a few cristobalite beads off her tunic and flings them at the wall. “The worst is, we fell into a trap of our own making.”

  “You trusted a seventeen-year-old,” I say.

  Hysan puffs out his cheeks. “My Psy shields were flawless. I tested them myself.”

  “Hysan, I wasn’t referring to you. Ochus warned me the very first time I saw him that people would never believe me. And everything I’ve done to prove him wrong has only worked in his favor. Now the whole Zodiac thinks I’m a coward. They actually think I meant for things to work out this way.”

  “You can’t take the blame alone, Rho.” Rubidum tears off another bead. “We all allowed rage to blind us.”

  “I guess I can cross off politics from my future.”

  She and I laugh weakly, but Hysan looks at me steadily, his sunny gaze trapping me in its beam. “The stars picked you, Rho. Humans—in their infinite injustice—have wronged you, but you’ll find your rightful place again. Your light shines too brightly not to be a beacon for others.”

  • • •

  I head to my usual cabin to clean up. With Hysan nearby, I almost feel like I’ll pull through . . . but my guilt makes it hard to spend a lot of time in his presence.

  The moment I’m alone, all the words Charon flung at me at the embassy seem to fill the room, and I curl up in a corner of the floor, trying to escape them. But maybe I am a coward.

  I didn’t tell Mathias about Ochus’s death threat before we left Oceon 6. I didn’t tell him about Hysan. I couldn’t even express my feelings or hear about his.

  I just shut the door on him. I abandoned Mathias. Like I abandoned Dad and Stanton. And the people of Virgo. I don’t know what light Hysan and Agatha can possibly see in me, when all I seem to bring people is darkness.

  When I finally get up to drop my suit in the refresher, I shake out the pockets. Mathias’s Astralator falls out.

  I pick it up, running my fingers along the slippery mother-of-pearl. This belongs with his parents, not me.

  Poor Amanta and Egon. Like Hysan and me, they’re orphans, but in a different, far worse way.

  I spend a long time in the ultraviolet shower, letting the light singe away every trace of dirt. The wound on my cheek stings, so I hold my face close to the UV faucet to sterilize the germs. When I step out of the stall, Sirna’s waiting.

  “Rho. I wish I could have taken your place up there.” She holds out a fresh Cancrian uniform tailored to my size. “Forgive me for not warning you. It was part of our agreement with Charon.”

  I take her outstretched hands. “Duty’s a harsh master,” I say, repeating her words. “But I’m not a Lodestar. I don’t have a right to wear that.”

  “It’ll do for now.” She helps me slip it on. “Events had to play out this way. If we’d pushed back too hard, Charon would have engineered something worse than expulsion. Try to understand.”

  I touch the Royal Guard glyph on my pocket, the three golden stars. Like the ones on Mathias’s suit.

  “I’m not giving up, Sirna. I just . . . need time to think and get ready.”

  “Rho, you’ve done plenty.”

  I gaze into Sirna’s sea-blue eyes. “Agatha will be interim Guardian until a new one is selected. She’s the most senior Advisor. Watch over her.”

  Sirna gives a solemn nod. “Of course we will. I must return to the embassy, but I wanted to bid you farewell first. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too.” We hug, and she turns to go—then I remember the Astralator. “Wait, Sirna. Could you take something back to the Thaises?”

  Her expression falls with sadness as I hold out the Astralator. “It was Mathias’s . . . and his sister’s before that.”

  She stares at it but doesn’t accept. “We mustn’t interfere with the wishes of those who have gone. Mathias wanted you to have this. His parents have other things to remember him by. . . . This is yours.”

  • • •

  When Sirna leaves to resume her role at the Plenum, Rubidum refuses to go, and I’m glad. She’s two hundred and eighty years older than me, but she feels like my kid sister, and now we’re both homeless.

  Neith and Hysan man the helm, and as Equinox lifts off and climbs away from House Aries, I watch the planet Phaetonis disappear without regret. Far in the distant sky, unknown stars circle beyond our galaxy, spreading outward without end.

  I can’t fathom infinity. Telescopes see only so far, and even the Ephemeris reveals no more than our visible universe. No ship will ever travel fast enough to reach the edge of Space. Anything might lurk out there. Anything is possible.

  Even Empyrean.

  Rubidum comes up beside me. “See something?”

  “Just thinking.”

  She presses her forehead to the glass. “Scientists say that somewhere in the universe, every event under the sun repeats itself an infinite number of times in every possible variation.”

  “I like that.” Could it be that somewhere beyond our sight, Mathias still lives, and another, better Rho Grace still swims in a sapphire sea?

  Rubidum nudges my arm. “Your fans will set you up as a martyr. You’ll be more famous than ever. That’s what I foresee.”

  “You got that from the stars?”

  “Yes. I’m not a Guardian for nothing. Hysan’s right, you know. You are the true Mother of Cancer. The stars haven’t pointed to another.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “Your Lodestars haven’t located new astrological fingerprints as Potentials to replace you.”

  A far more terrible theory forms in my mind: Maybe Cancer doesn’t have a new Guardian because Cancer is gone forever.

  But I can’t think that way.

  “I need more training, Rubi.” I hug my knees to my chest. “I have a ton of stuff to learn.” Even as I speak, my eyes sting at the memory of Mathias’s advice.

  Hysan comes up behind us. “So where to?”

  “The moons of Aquarius have stellar ski spas,” says Rubidum. “Or we might try sun-sailing on planet Leo.”

  “I’d like to find my brother,” I say, even though I know it’s selfish. “He’s probably in the refugee camp on Hydragyr.”

  “House Gemini.” Rubidum turns to the glass and squints in the direction of her world. Her red-rimmed eyes remind me of the people in her court, so lively and creative, now burnt to ash. “I’ve been dreading the sight, but . . . yes, I believe it’s time to return.”

  “Gemini?” Hysan twists his lips like he’s tasting vinegar. “Neith, my liege, the ladies have decided. Set a course for the Third House.”

  44

  HOUSE GEMINI IS FAR ACROSS the ecliptic from Aries, so Equinox will make another slingshot loop around the sun to boost our speed. We’re on our way now, and I’m in my cabin, thinking of Mathias.

  “Rho? Are you awake?” Rubidum’s calling from the other side of the door. “There’s something Hysan thought you’d want to see.”

  Equinox’s nose has already darkened and polarized when I come in, and my companions are near the curved glass, admiring our sun. I come to rest between them, and when I bump Hysan’s shoulder, he smiles.

  “Light of the sun be with you,” he says, an oddly antiquated greeting.

  “And with you,” I answer in kind.

  We turn toward the golden fire, which is nearly out of range. “Now look to the right.” Hysan points to a blue jewel in the sky.

  I widen my eyes. It’s Cancer.

  She’s glowing as
bright blue as ever, ringed now by a necklace of moon stones. It reminds me of the pearl necklace Mom gave me, uniting each of the House’s sacred symbols.

  Unity. Ophiuchus. The irony.

  Now, when I’ve lost everything and almost everyone, I feel truly naked for the first time. I have no place in the world, and the world has no place to offer me. I’m free . . . and just me.

  Only I don’t know this me. I’ve never been her before. In a way, she can be a clean slate. The choice Crius once told me I had, many lifetimes ago. And the only thing I know about this new me is that the Cancer Sea runs through these veins, and this heart belts out a Cancrian tune.

  The one truth I’ve always retained—the part of me that’s never faded and has gotten me through the worst—is my identity as a Cancrian. Charon challenged my very nature when he stood over the Cancer Sea and accused me of cowardice. But he doesn’t understand me because the lens he views me through is narrow.

  I think back to Hysan’s jury, warning me against becoming so stubbornly set on Ochus—I was so focused on rallying others to my cause against the Thirteenth Guardian that I refused to see the army’s threat or entertain other points of view. It’s the same with Charon—he can only see me from the outside, through his Scorpion eyes.

  The more we close off to the other Houses, the smaller our worlds grow. Even our worldviews begin to shrink. That’s why I have to save my world. Even though people go, Cancer can’t. Like Leyla and Sirna said, it has to live on.

  Hysan said I’m the person the stars chose to safeguard our House, so that’s what I’ll do, in whatever ways I can. Only it’s not just Cancer that’s home anymore. It’s the Zodiac.

  I’m trying to view our solar system the way Hysan sees it, as an extension of my home, a place full of intrigue and adventure and interesting people. Like him, I want to be a citizen of the galaxy, not just one planet. For now, though, land and oxygen would be good. And some familiar faces.

  A new home for the new me. A home I will defend with my dying breath. Because the threat is still out there. The master and Ochus and the army.

  I’ve been Guardian, so I’ve seen how things work at the top. And I’ve realized it’s always hard to effect change, whether you’re starting at a position of power or doing it from the ground up. Either way, you’re facing opposition—other people’s and your own—and you always have to fight hard.

  So I’m going to keep doing what I do best: Reading the stars. I’ll go wherever help is needed. And I’ll use every free minute I have to hunt down the people responsible.

  The ones who stole my home, my dad, and Mathias from me.

  Just as Cancer’s moving out of view, I turn to my friends. “Let’s lower the shield and ping Cancer. Someone may still be there.”

  I’ve started wearing my Ring again. I’m not hiding anymore. If Ochus wants another fight, I can touch him now. I’ll fight him into eternity.

  Cancer’s power grid is still down, so we call to my home planet through the communal mind of the Psy. My friends hover near the helm, and we meditate in silence, waiting. Many intellects whisper through the Psy, but no voice arises from planet Cancer. After twenty minutes without a response, I hang my head.

  Next we Wave the refugee camp deep under the surface of the Geminin planet Hydragyr. Given that holograms travel at the speed of light, there’s an eight-minute time delay. The first person to answer is Nishiko.

  Since my Wave is scuffed and dented, and one corner has melted, Hysan transfers the image to the view screen, and the sight of Nishi’s familiar cinnamon-brown face brings the first real smile to my face, softening muscles I didn’t realize I’d been clenching.

  “I’ve been watching for you, Rho. We knew you’d find us.”

  We speak to each other like holo-ghosts, with long, tedious lags punctuating our talk. “Nishi, you’re still with the refugees? I thought you’d gone home.”

  She lifts her chin and smiles. “I’ve got reasons for staying.”

  Lady Agatha joins our conversation. “Blessed Mother,” she says. I start to protest, but she can’t hear me yet. “The people call me Guardian, but we Cancrians know our true protector.”

  At length, I answer, “Thank you for your blessing, Agatha. It kept me steady.”

  After eight minutes, a new face pops up on the screen, and he’s laughing. “Don’t tell me you’ve got religion, Rho.”

  “Deke! It’s so good to see you.”

  Another wait. Then he says, “Would you believe I’m farming mushrooms now? You’ll love my fungus sushi.”

  On the screen, Nishiko squeezes next to Deke, and when she slides her arm around his waist, he doesn’t push her away. “Your people are making a home here, Rho. They’re building up your House again. You’ll like this place.”

  A dark, dry beryllium mine deep inside an airless planet?

  Yes, if my people are there, I’ll like it.

  I introduce Hysan and Rubidum, and in slow, halting time lags, we talk for an hour. My Cancrian friends have dozens of questions because they didn’t believe the newsfeeds out of Phaetonis. I try to clear up some mysteries, but most of my story will have to wait until we arrive.

  Before we break off, I ask, “Do you know where my brother is?”

  Their expressions dim. Agatha says, “We haven’t heard from your family, Mother. We believe they perished at sea.”

  “But I thought . . .” My voice dies. My mind is caving in.

  Rubidum comes closer and caresses me. “It’s terrible to lose a brother. I know.”

  Hysan pulls me into his chest, and I hide my face in his coveralls, inhaling his cedary scent, wishing the agony would end. Every day, another knife wound.

  I could survive any loss . . . but not Stanton. I fought and survived for nothing.

  “Your family’s in the Cancer Sea,” Deke says after eight minutes. “They would’ve wanted that.”

  I can’t speak.

  Hysan tells Agatha when to expect our arrival, and she gives him the landing coordinates. Nishiko and Deke promise a big homecoming celebration, complete with fungus sushi, and we end the call.

  When it’s over, we all stand around in silence. They’re waiting for me to react, but I can barely take another breath, much less speak.

  My Wave starts humming again. Maybe they mixed up the coordinates and are calling with a correction. I don’t move to get it, so Hysan opens the clamshell.

  A voice shoots out, but no image. “Rho, can . . . hear me?”

  The voice is so familiar it pierces through my numbness.

  “Stanton?” I look around desperately, wondering if the others can hear it, or if I’ve lost my mind.

  “That’s an optic signal,” says Hysan, handing me the Wave. “Speak as close to the device as you can.”

  I hold it up to my mouth. “Stanton, this is Rho. Where are you?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I turn to Hysan. “Are you sure this thing’s working?”

  “The signals travel by optic beam. Give it time.”

  We wait four electrifying minutes before the next signal arrives. We hear a burst of static, then a voice. “. . . is Stanton Gr . . . calling Mother Rho. We’re in . . . observatory on Mount Pellanesus . . . see a ship. Is it you?”

  “Yes, it’s me! Stanton, you’re alive. We’re coming!”

  Again, we wait, only this time my heart is racing with hope, not dread. Hysan links my Wave to Equinox’s screen and hits some keys. When the next signal arrives, we can see Stanton’s face.

  “. . . about four weeks. The Belger family’s with me . . . two hundred others. We’ve taken over the observa . . . rigged up a link . . . fishnets . . . they’ve been . . . and Dad . . . with his nar-clams. He died in the . . . creatures he loved . . . are you coming?”

  Stanton appears to be standing on a mountainside, buffeted by gale-force win
ds. Leaves and bits of scrap fly past, and behind him, a dish-shaped optical link sways back and forth, pixilating his image in and out of view.

  I turn to Hysan. “Can we land there?”

  He confers with Equinox, then nods. “Heavy storm activity, but we’ll get through. If the terrain’s too rough, we’ll hover.”

  The first good feeling I’ve felt in a long time washes over me, and it’s so new it hurts. If this is selfish, I don’t care. I’m not Guardian anymore—I can think about myself and my family again.

  Ochus has taken my dad, my home, and Mathias from me. As Guardian, I needed people’s support to fight back. As a person, I can do what I want.

  After I’ve reunited with my brother, I’m going after the Thirteenth Guardian.

  Ochus is going to pay.

  I swear it on my Mother’s life.

  • • •

  THE END OF BOOK ONE

  • • •

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Like the Zodiac Universe, my life is populated with diversely talented people who often—sometimes unknowingly—donate a piece of their power to me when I most need it. I am so, so lucky to have these Lodestars watching over me.

  Thank You:

  To Liz Tingue—for this chance, and for being equally fabulous as an editor and a friend

  To Ben Schrank, Casey McIntyre, Laura Arnold, Marissa Grossman, and the rest of the Razorbill team—for the most amazing publishing experience I could have ever dreamt up . . . and I’ve been dreaming about this since I was nine

  To Vanessa Han and Kristin Smith—for the coolest cover ever

  To Jay Asher—for your out-of-this-world friendship and generosity, and for introducing me to Laura

  To Laura Rennert—for believing in me, for your brilliant guidance, and for all our adventures to come

  To Will Frank—for always, always being there and never, ever letting me

  give up

  To Nicole Maggi, Lizzie Andrews, Anne Van, and Scribblers—for your friendship, for all you’ve taught me, and for taking the journey together . . . Nicole, our twin brains giving birth to twin books must’ve been written in the stars