It’s unintelligible. The screen is shaded with tones of gray and charcoal, which muffle a series of shapes and letters in the background, like a veil of interference on a transmission. The projection disappears too quickly to register much, but I do catch part of his name in it: ARY.
Aryll doesn’t speak as we leave the Aquarian embassy and head to the First House. The line for holographic wrestling is so long it spills out onto the Taurian and Geminin embassy lawns, but Stanton and I still follow Aryll there without complaint.
“I’m not mad,” he says when he finally turns to look at us, scratching at the skin under his eye patch. “It’s just that Centering—concentrating on anything, really—has always been hard for me. That’s why I didn’t get into the Academy.”
“I’m sorry,” says Stanton, “I didn’t mean to push—”
“I’m not mad,” repeats Aryll, shoving my brother into the girls in line ahead of us. Two ticked-off Scorp teens turn around.
“Sorry,” says Aryll to the Scorps.
“No, I’m sorry,” says Stanton, slinging an arm around Aryll’s neck. “We were just wondering whose suit you like better.”
The girls giggle, giving Stanton a green light to keep flirting. “I’m Aryll, and he’s Stanton,” he says.
Aryll laughs. “He means I’m Aryll, and he’s Stanton.”
“What’d I say?” asks Stanton. He used to do that with me when we were kids all the time—talk to people as if he were Rho and I were Stanton.
“I’m Maura,” says one of the girls.
“Hayden,” says the taller of the two. She has red eyes, like a Maw—she must be from one of the deeper waterworlds of Scorpio. Like most Scorps, they’re both thin and wiry, and their skin is so pale it’s nearly translucent. Since their populations live in underwater cities, they don’t get a lot of sun.
While Aryll and Stanton flirt, my mind drifts off, and I start to wonder what Hysan and Mathias are up to. “Think I’ll wander,” I tell Stanton.
“We’ll be here,” he says, gesturing at the hopelessly long line.
I walk past a band performing from the balcony of the elevated theater that is the Leonine embassy, and people from every House are dancing on the front lawn. When the song ends, the musicians take a break, but the singer stays onstage and starts to belt out a slow ballad. A pack of rowdy teenage boys groan loudly with displeasure, but I stop to listen to the sad melody.
A familiar husky voice speaks in my ear. “Never did get that dance on Starry City.”
Hysan holds out his hand, and I gaze into his lively green eyes as I rest my palm against his. We step onto the Leonine playhouse lawn, and he slides his other hand around my waist, pulling me toward him until our chests are touching.
“Thanks for being there for Nishi today,” I say, my bandaged arm draped around his neck.
“No need to thank me, Rho. I like being helpful.” He pulls me into the crook of his neck, where I can’t see his eyes, and speaks into my ear. “But these past few days, I’ve been at a loss. I couldn’t help Twain. I can’t truly help Nishi. And I don’t know how to help you.”
“That’s not true,” I say, raising my face to look at him. “You rescued us—”
“That’s not what I mean.” We’re so close that all I can smell is the cedary scent of his hair. “Maybe it’s because a robot raised me, but I’ve always been ruled by my mind. I don’t react to feelings—I think first, feel later. Except ever since meeting you, all I want to do is be near you, even when it goes against my better judgment.”
I stare into his eyes, and everything around his face fades out of focus. “Rho, even though I’ve been alone all my life, I’d never been lonely . . . not until I met you.”
Twain was right: Hysan is so outwardly focused that no one can ever look in. This is the first time he’s let me see past his golden reflection . . . and the first time I’ve seen he’s just as breakable as I am.
“I’m really happy Mathias is alive,” continues Hysan, skating our joined hands along my jawline and tipping my face up to his. “But you’ve barely looked at me since we rescued him.”
“It’s just . . . I can’t think about anything other than the Marad right now.”
“There’s been someone trying to kill us since the night we met,” he argues, pushing away my excuse. “I haven’t proposed marriage—all I asked for was a date. If we survived our mission, which we did. So why do I feel like I’m getting brushed off again?”
Shame torches my cheeks, and I murmur, “I know it’s not fair to you, it’s just bad timing—”
“It’ll never be good timing.” His eyes stare determinedly into mine. “Just tell me how you really feel. I can’t keep doing this.”
My heart is so loud that its beat feels like part of the song. “I don’t know what to say that won’t sound cruel and selfish.”
“Then be cruel and selfish.”
“The truth is I love you; you already know I do. But I love Mathias, too.” Swallowing my scorching shame, I admit the rest. “And now that he’s back, the only thing I’m sure of is I don’t want to lose him again.”
Hysan’s stopped swaying, and now we’re just holding each other in place. A vivid holographic lion drifts across him, making his eyes glint like emeralds and his hair glimmer like threads of gold. From the look on his face, I can’t tell if he’s ever going to speak to me again.
“I fell for you at first sight,” he says at last, his tone filled with tension. “Not just for your beauty, which is considerable, but you. I could feel your emotions when you stood in front of us at your swearing-in ceremony. I saw the pain you were in, the horrors you’d seen, the crushing loneliness you felt . . . and yet you seemed so brave, and your voice held this wonderful warmth that transmitted to the whole room. Anyone could feel how much you cared for your people.”
He caresses my palm with his thumb. “But this whole time, you’ve been too scared to let yourself fall in love with me. I hoped your feelings would grow stronger than your fears . . . but they haven’t.”
“What are you—”
“You’re holding on to old feelings for Mathias because he’s always been the easier path. Rho, the things that make you so deeply Cancrian are the very reasons I love you. But the fact that I’m not Cancrian is the reason you can’t truly love me.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I let go of him, my heart still too loud, my skin suddenly searing not with shame but fury. “I’m not in the mood for your games, Hysan.”
He lets go of me, too. “That’s just it, my lady. I never played games with you.” The hardness in his voice has melted away. “I never regarded you so lightly.”
31
OUR DANCE IS OVER, AND Hysan has walked away. I wander around the village on my own, furious with him for expecting so much from me. Good for him that he’s so in control of his emotions, but I’m so ruled by mine that sometimes it’s hard to think at all.
I head back to the holographic wrestling line to find Stanton, until I realize he’s not the person I’m looking for. I turn around and cross the plank to the Cancrian embassy, and I don’t stop moving until I’m outside Mathias’s parents’ door.
Somehow, I doubt he’s out among the crowds, and even if he’s inside, I don’t know that he’ll want to see me. I knock softly, half-hoping no one heard me, then turn to go.
I hear the door opening and spin around to see Mathias. “Hi,” I say. “I was just . . . checking on you.”
After a beat, he says, “Come in.”
He’s in bed clothes—wrinkled shirt and comfy pants—and looking more like himself than he has since he’s been back. I couldn’t tell last night in the dark, but his hair has been trimmed—not Zodai short, but it’s no longer covering his eyes, and the bruises on his face have faded after a few sessions with healers. There’s light stubble in the barely noticeable cleft in his
chin, like he used to have when he attended the university. The only scar that stands out is the one that slices down his neck.
I follow him into the den. “Where’s Pandora?”
“Outside, with my parents.” Knowing we’re alone makes the air in the room feel charged. He gestures for me to sit on the couch. I take one end, and he takes the other.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t need to cling to Pandora to feel real anymore.” His words sound almost aggressive, which he must realize, because now he adds in a lower voice, “When I saw my parents . . . something changed. I wanted to be strong for them, so I became stronger.”
I nod, thinking of the strength Deke mustered for his family the day we met, even though he was heartbroken inside. “You’re Cancrian through and through,” I whisper, echoing words Mathias once said to me.
He turns away and pours us water from a carafe. He hasn’t looked me in the eyes yet. I probably shouldn’t have forced my presence on him when he’s already made it clear he isn’t ready.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” I say suddenly, rising so quickly that I spill the glass of water Mathias set on the table. “Oh, sorry—”
I whirl around, searching for a towel to dry the mess. Mathias gets to his feet, too, and I keep my head lowered, willing a towel to appear, unwilling to look at him—
“I clung on for you.” His voice is musical again, and I look up.
“I held on so I could see you. I fought for you even after I forgot myself, and your name was the only word I remembered.” His pale face is cracked with pain. “But when I saw you . . . you saw me, too. Like this. And I wasn’t ready for that.”
He takes my hand. Touching him again restores something I hadn’t realized I’d lost: my faith in the stars.
“When I thought you died, I stopped living, too,” I say into his shirt, my cheeks flushing with nervousness. “I wished I could have told you so many things . . . but mostly I wanted to tell you that I love you, too.”
He pulls me into his chest and pins me there with his strong arms, his chin on my head as he holds me tightly to him. Inside his embrace, I feel my soul releasing a heavy weight, at last letting my heart rise higher.
I look up at him, and he presses his mouth to mine. A tingling, sleepy sensation spreads through my nerve endings—it’s the way I feel after sitting on my legs for too long, only it’s happening to my whole body. I’m not sure my feet can hold me up for much longer, but they don’t have to.
Mathias lays me down on the couch, and as our kiss grows more urgent, I let my hands wander across his muscles and start lifting the hem of his shirt. He stops me.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to see.”
I look again at the scar on his neck, at how it disappears into the neckline of his shirt, and I understand. “I’ll show you mine,” I say, sitting up and tugging at the bandage Hysan tied on. Leyla and Lola offered to replace it with a prettier fabric, but I didn’t want them to see the scars.
When I finish rolling off the long, white bandage, I don’t look. I just watch Mathias’s indigo eyes as they survey the twelve symbols that were crudely carved into me. He gingerly touches my raw skin, and I feel a jolt of shock from the contact.
“Does it hurt?”
I shake my head. Then, slowly, I peer down. The sight is gruesome. My arm is blue and black, and each symbol is just a series of ugly and jagged red lines.
Mathias leans over and kisses the Cancrian scar.
“Can I see yours?” I ask softly.
He sighs and clenches his hands into fists, as if he’s fighting a force of memories. I rest my hands on his until, gradually, he relaxes and looks into my face. Then, slowly, he moves his hands away, and I gently remove his shirt.
The gasp leaves my lips before I can stop it.
The straight line on his neck doesn’t end. It weaves across his chest and abdomen, then cuts into his back, forming a tangle of intersecting lines. It’s one long, intricate design that someone must have cut over and over and over again into his skin, giving it no chance to heal properly. “Was this . . . her?” I breathe.
He doesn’t answer, but his jaw clenches with anger again.
“I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk—”
“I know the whole Zodiac knows this now, but I haven’t said it to you yet. You were right, Rho. About Ophiuchus. About everything.”
He swallows and takes my hand, staring at the scars on my arm as he speaks. “They were waiting for me when I left Firebird on my Skiff. I was the last one to take off. As soon as I was in the air, something felt wrong. I didn’t have control of the ship, and I couldn’t access the Psy or use my radio. Something was pulling me.
“I entered a veiled space station that was invisible to my scanners. I was taken into a cell filled with men, and when they came through identifying us and discovered who I was, they moved me to a private cell where their senior officers interrogated me.” He says interrogated in such a way that I know what he really means.
“Do you remember anything about where they were holding you?” I whisper. “Or where their base may be?”
He shakes his head. “But Pandora is right. They’re organized, and more powerful than you could imagine.”
“I believe her. I spoke with Chief Executive Purecell yesterday.” I recount everything Fernanda’s former correspondent told her about the activist group that recruited the Risers. “This plan has been in the works for years. That means none of this is random. The master has a goal, and I don’t think it’s chaos for its own sake.”
Mathias’s face furrows in thought, and the familiar sight plunges me into nostalgia. I’ve missed these conversations. I’ve missed my Guide.
“I’m sure my memories could give us some clues; I just can’t access them.” He sighs. “I can’t Center. I’m not even sure if I want to.”
I take his hands and pull him up. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Mathias puts his shirt back on and replaces my bandage, and then we head up to the crystal reading room. We look through the windows out onto the celebration, watching the setting sun cast an amber glow over the festival. Holograms of every kind and color twinkle in the golden light.
“What are we doing here?” he asks. His lower lip glints with my glossy pink lipstick, but I’m too embarrassed to say anything.
“Yarrot.”
I lie on the floor and wait for him to join me. I can tell he wants to resist, but he complies. Together, we cycle through all twelve poses. He’s still weak and sore from his ordeal, but I don’t let him give up. I push him, the way he pushed me on Oceon 6 when, like him, I thought I had nothing left to give.
The moon is shining over us by the time we’ve completed a full cycle. We lie back and stare up at the stars, breathing heavily.
“Close your eyes,” I murmur. “Find home inside you. Picture the whirlpools of blending blues of the Cancer Sea, the sand-and-seashell bungalow homes, the pod cities that from high up looked like lily pads cradling small civilizations . . .”
I feel my mind drifting away, inadvertently casting my spell on myself, too, and I flit closer to my Center. The Abyssthe in my Ring buzzes against my finger, activated by the sudden absorption of Psynergy.
Tapped into my soul, I feel a peace with my place in the universe that I’ve never known before. I understand myself, my impact on the Zodiac, and what I want to do with my life. The uncertainty is no longer within—it’s solely without.
The Psy’s instability intensifies every time I access it. Even now, the Psynergy I’ve pulled into myself is so erratic that it’s hard to keep Centered. I may be at peace, but the Zodiac is going to war. I can feel it here, in the deepest recess of my being: This war will be as devastating as the Trinary Axis. And just as the Axis did a millennium ago, it will
change the Zodiac forever.
“Squary.”
I open my eyes, and it takes me a few moments to return to the present. I look at Mathias. He’s still lying beside me, staring into my face, the moonlight shining in his midnight eyes. “I remembered something,” he says. “They said something . . . a name. They must have thought I was unconscious from the pain. I think it was the name of a place. Squary.”
“Squary . . .” I pull up my interminable catalogue of Zodiac locations, the ones Mom spent years drilling into me. Squary, I know this one. “Isn’t that a military base? On Aries . . . ?” But on saying it, I know it’s not. Squary is a testing zone for new weapons, but it’s not on Aries.
It’s on Scorpio.
I sit bolt upright. “Squary is on Sconcion,” I say, scrambling to my feet. “One of their above-ground testing zones. It was shut down decades ago after someone fired an experimental nuclear weapon. The damage was total, and the Stridents declared it wouldn’t be usable again until the next millennium. But the Marad obviously found a way—”
Something else is bothering me, though, another memory. Not anything I learned from Mom. It’s more recent than that. Squary . . . squ-ary.
The letters in the projection of Aryll’s soul.
I run from the room, Mathias at my heels. “Rho, what’s wrong?”
I have to find him—I have to find them. Hysan was right—he could tell that—
I freeze in the horror of my newest realization. Hysan planted evidence claiming he has the Thirteenth Talisman.
Aryll’s coming after him.
32
I’M RUNNING SO FAST I don’t know if Mathias is following, or where I’m going, or what I’ll do when I find Aryll. I can’t hear or think or breathe—all I can do is run as if my heart depends on it. Because it does.
Wandering Star: A Zodiac Novel Page 25
