Black Moon

by Romina Russell

“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 echoe
s 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 STANDING in 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.”