“I’m not hungry. And it’s late.”
“But Aquarius specifically requested—”
“I don’t care.”
“She’ll be there,” announces Nishi, and when I glower at her, she’s already glowering back. “We just need a moment,” she tells the healer, who nods in relief and retreats.
“You have to go, Rho,” she says in a firm tone. “If you let me distract you from defeating him, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I swallow and turn away so she won’t see the guilt on my face. “I’ll come back right after,” I toss over my shoulder.
“Maybe you should get some sleep right after.”
I whirl around, and she winces at my wounded expression. “I’m sorry, Rho, it’s not that I don’t want to see you. It’s just—you look like you could use some rest. You can tell me all about the dinner first thing in the morning.”
I shrug and say, “Here’s hoping they don’t poison my food.”
“Hey, you’re the chosen one; you have nothing to worry about.” Her feral grin makes me think of the warrior Nishi from the Sumber. “If you don’t piss anyone off too much, I’ll probably be fine, too.”
I smile at her innocently.
“Then I guess I’ll have to be on my best behavior.”
• • •
I search for room number nine, and when I turn the key Blaze gave me, I enter a spacious suite outfitted with sparse furniture. The few pieces in here are all silver with a pearl finish, and they look exquisite and expensive. The minimalist aesthetic reminds me of Aquarius’s office at the royal palace, and it seems to suit his philosophies well—if you’re chasing tomorrow, you probably want to pack light.
A sparkly dress has been laid out for me on the seashell-patterned bedspread, and by now I’m so used to people telling me what to wear and when to wear it that I don’t even care how it looks. Since I have to put it on to curry Aquarius’s favor, there’s no point in having an opinion.
I force myself to take a quick shower so I can pretend to care about tonight, and I’ve just pulled on the dress when there’s a knock on my door. I open it to find Blaze in a hot-pink suit, his white hair twisted into a bun atop his head.
“Now that’s a Wandering Star,” he says gallantly, admiring me. “Let me just fix your hair.”
Without waiting for permission, he comes around me and corrals my wet curls behind my neck, weaving them into one long, loose braid.
“Did you dye your hair white because you’re desperate to be Aquarian?” I ask as he works. “Or do you honestly think that looks good on you?”
He faces me and plucks a few curls free to frame my face. “Are you this charming with all your admirers, or do I warrant special treatment?”
“My admirer—”
But my outrage is cut short because he disappears into my bathroom and returns with a tin of tiny diamond pins that he starts inserting into my hair. I ignore what he’s doing so I won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, and I pick up where I left off. “You and Imogen attacked Nishi and me just weeks ago—”
“We didn’t kill you, nor would we.”
He stops working and looks me in the eye, his handsome face creasing with concern. The expression is so full of Aquarius’s magnetic sincerity that I can see why these two fell in with each other. “These are times of war, Rho—but you should know that, as you were the one who sounded the alarm months ago.”
“Sounded the alarm?” I don’t care if I blow my cover anymore, because anger is setting my gut ablaze.
“If we’re going to have a real talk,” I say fiercely, “then let’s start by calling things by their real names. My home planet was demolished—and it was Aquarius’s doing. He destroyed my entire world and murdered my people, and that’s in addition to what he did to Virgo, Gemini, Pisces, Capricorn, the armada—can you understand that, or are you just too damned brainwashed?”
Blaze’s brown skin pales, and the confident light fades from his russet eyes. “Okay . . . let’s talk honestly.”
Even his voice sounds different, deeper. “I want an existence where we’re all allowed to be whom we want. I think what happened to Cancer—and Virgo and Gemini and Pisces and all the other lives lost—is abhorrent and devastating and I’m sick about it. I’m sick about it,” he repeats, his voice growing guttural.
“But I’m not a god.”
He blinks, and his eyes are bright again. “A human who judges Aquarius is like the lion who judges man. We can never know what it’s like to be stars.”
Blaze raises his arm and offers me his elbow. I hesitate, and on seeing my indecision he adds, “Gods create and destroy—it’s the nature of their condition. We can’t have life without death, or fortune without misfortune. That’s just the way things are.”
I have no choice but to play along, so I give in and link my arm through his. As soon as I do, he pulls me in close and murmurs in my ear, “Rho, you should know . . . there’s no tomorrow without you.”
I tilt my head back to look into his eyes. “What?”
He seems completely serious. “The Tomorrow Party believes in your Sight and your vision, and we will follow you to any universe.”
“Except this one,” I say.
His eyes flash and his arm tightens around mine. “Don’t you understand? We’re leaving the Zodiac because we don’t want to die. This solar system is coming to an end: Our sun will burn out. As hateful as his actions seem—and as distasteful as this sounds—what Aquarius is offering us isn’t doom.”
Blaze brushes back one of my flyaway curls and buries it in my braid.
“It’s hope.”
• • •
We head to the south wing of the ship and enter a semi-dark room, and immediately I understand why we’re clothed the way we are: My sparkly dress and Blaze’s neon-pink suit are giving off their own light. There are probably a hundred people here, and they all look like different-colored stars. The effect is dreamy and romantic and otherworldly.
Something bright flits in the corner of my eye, and I look behind me. There’s a mirror hanging on the wall, and I catch my own reflection.
The dress hangs above my knees but has a long train in the back, and glimmers of silver trail in the air behind me. The silky fabric isn’t visible—all that can be seen of my silhouette are the constellations of sparkles that adorn the bodice and the twinkling of the diamonds Blaze placed in my hair.
A Scorp girl walks up to us, and I stare at her in awe. Her blue dress swirls like it was sewn from actual water, and her translucent skin glows with light, like Aquarius’s. She hands Blaze and me glasses with a glow-in-the-dark white drink. Blaze clinks his glass with mine and tips the substance into his mouth. Without waiting to see what happens, I down mine, too.
I feel a warm sensation spread through me, and I look down to see my skin is lighting up.
I turn to Blaze. He’s also glowing. He flashes me one of his winning smiles and says, “The idea is to look past people’s shells to the light they carry within.”
But as I gaze out at the hundred or so senior Party members here, all I see is the darkness surrounding the lights. The souls who had to be snuffed out for Aquarius to shine even brighter.
In this solar system of people, it’s not hard to spot the sun. Aquarius’s light is so authentic that he’s obviously the only real star among imitators.
Students flock around him, soaking up his wisdom like he’s their favorite Academy instructor, and it looks incredibly inviting to be one of his followers. To be that inspired, that hopeful, that wholly devoted . . . It seems like it makes everything so much easier.
Even through the crowd of shimmering bodies, his eyes find mine and his voice suddenly rises high enough to cut through the conversations, silencing everyone at once.
“What you all blame on the stars,” he declares
, “is something you impose on yourselves.”
There isn’t a sound in the room.
“The stars do not decide which House you are born into—your parents do that, as did their parents before them, and their parents before them. It’s your dependence on ancestral memory—your delusional insistence on chaining your future to your past—that hinders you.”
He steps forward, toward me, bringing the crowd with him.
“But every so often, a star is born from beyond the universal chaos, free from the call of a single constellation, who can see things as they truly are. She needn’t be a conqueror or a genius, but in possession of a soul so pure that she shines a light on the human condition for us all. And when her brightness reaches so far that all are illuminated by her splendor, we see each other as we truly are.
“The presence of such a star amongst us is like the light before the storm. We are forced to see our own reflection and decide who we are. We have been shocked into a growth spurt, and so we must evolve. Once touched by such a light, one cannot abide the dark. And in that instant when the brightness blinds us, when it wraps around us so that even those in power look away for a moment, forgetting to jealously guard it—the universal clock takes one tick forward.
“The tick echoes in Space’s silence like thunder, and now everyone sees the light for what it truly was: Lightning. And by the time this storm moves on, what was present will become past, and what was already past will fall another notch farther from us. That is how today becomes Tomorrow.”
He’s in front of me now, and as he holds out his hand for mine, everyone is watching.
I place my palm on his, and the whole room breaks into applause. Aquarius leans in and says, “Welcome to Tomorrow, Wandering Star.”
24
THE NIGHT IS A WHIRLWIND of introductions.
Most members are in their late teens and early-to-midtwenties, and they’ve already distinguished themselves in some way. Stan was right: This Party is as elitist at it gets. But now that I know Aquarius’s plans, I understand why.
He’s admitted he’s a scientist, and since he has no idea what’s on the other side of the portal or how long it will take to find a habitable planet, it makes sense to fly with a young and talented crew. I also understand why he wouldn’t want to go alone: He may have the soul of a star, but he’s in the body of a man. He has no chance of surviving on his own.
Besides, it’s in an Aquarian’s nature to be a social architect—he wouldn’t derive any pleasure from surviving alone. He’d rather lead the chosen to a new world.
“This is Barg,” says Aquarius, introducing me to a Scorp with red eyes.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Wandering Star,” says Barg, trading the hand touch with me.
“I visited your House,” I say, angling my head curiously. “I’ve found most Scorps want nothing to do with the rest of us.”
“I know.” He hangs his head a little. “I’ve never fully fit in there. When I was eight, I used to talk about how I wanted to meet people from other Houses and see more of our solar system, and my classmates started calling me a Riser. I was bullied by my family for lacking proper Scorp pride, until I finally gave in and stopped dreaming of other worlds.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say.
“But then I watched you speak of a united Zodiac, and I saw how people’s hatred and ignorance didn’t stomp out your fire—it only fueled it.” He raises his chin. “And I felt hopeful for the first time in years.”
Blaze wraps an arm around Barg’s shoulders. “You’re home now, brother,” he says, and Barg beams.
“Barg has synthesized a regenerative formula from an underwater plant on Scorpio that can reverse years of aging without any of the painful procedures of the Geminin methods,” says Aquarius proudly, and Barg’s face seems to radiate even more light as he basks in the Guardian’s admiration. “We’re honored to welcome him to our family.”
“I heard my House mentioned,” says a new voice, and I turn to see a curvy, tawny-skinned Geminin with glowing red lips.
“Imogen,” says Aquarius, tipping his head to her. He cautiously pans his gaze to me and back to her and says, “I hope the two of you might consider beginning anew tonight. In the spirit of the unity we’re trying to foment, I think we should leave the past where it belongs and move forward unburdened by the pain we’ve suffered to get here.”
“I agree,” I say, relishing how easy it is to lie now that my heart is mute. I hold out my hand for the greeting, all the while envisioning stabbing her with a bayonet the way I did to Corinthe. Then doing it again and again and again.
She’ll pay for what she did to Nishi.
I smile sweetly.
Imogen merely bumps her fist with me, but I don’t let her stop there—I make her go through the whole elaborate choreography of knocking knuckles, bumping elbows, and slapping hands. She seems annoyed that I’ve co-opted her greeting style, and my smile widens.
“So you’re coming with us?” she asks in a dry voice.
“I’m here for Nishi,” I say, opting to use the truth to lie again. “The leader you admired so much that you shot her. I’m not sold on anything else yet.”
“And you’re fine with leaving Hysan and the others behind to die?” she presses.
“No—but if there’s one thing you taught me, it’s that I can’t save everyone. I have to let my friends choose their own fates.”
Everyone nods approvingly.
“What about you guys?” I ask, turning the question around on them. “You’re fine with leaving your families behind?”
“Party members may bring their families if they wish,” says Aquarius. “It’s painful enough to leave everything we know—but it would be inhumane to leave behind our loved ones. There are still spaces free for your friends, if they should change their minds.”
I’m speechless but not for long, because more and more Zodai are coming up to introduce themselves. I keep expecting to see Ezra and Gyzer, but they’re not here. Eurek mentioned they haven’t been able to breach Aquarius’s inner circle yet, so they’re probably not high ranking enough to be invited tonight.
“Rho!”
A couple of people come over, and I recognize the girl who called out to me as Geneva of Taurus, Blaze’s date to the royal ball. “The youngest Promisary in Taurian history,” I say, and she burns bright red.
“Wow, you remembered.”
Blaze also looks pleased, and he flashes me a smile.
“Hi, June,” I say to the Libran in the medical hover-chair who’s come over with Geneva.
“Helios, is my face as red as Geneva’s right now?” she asks, and everyone laughs. “I can’t believe you remembered me!”
I notice a third person behind them, and when I see her, I’m thrown back in time to Helios’s Halo, the first time I ever saw the Zodiac come together, the night before we set off in the armada.
“Mallie?”
“Okay, you can stop showing off your memory now,” says Blaze, and everyone chuckles once more.
“It’s an honor to see you again, Wandering Star,” says the Aquarian Mallie, and her orb-like eyes make me think of Pandora. “Have you designed your universe yet?”
“My universe?”
“Everyone’s submitted a prediction of what they think the universe we land in will be like. Come do yours quickly before they’re all screened,” she says eagerly, and I’m led away from the group toward the back of the space where there are a dozen enclosed white booths. She hands me a black drink in a shot glass.
“Take as long as you need. You paint a detailed picture in your mind of what you think we’ll see as soon as we go through the portal, and when the image is clearest, down this drink. Whatever you envision will imprint on the walls around you for an instant and then disappear. But it will be re-created holographically in a
different terminal so that you can actually see what you imagined.”
“What is it?” I ask, sniffing the telltale licorice scent of Abyssthe.
“It’s an aural tonic.”
My hand shakes at the name. Immediately, I see Stan and Aryll, when they tried these at the Taurian festival after I was given the title of Wandering Star.
Stan’s soul projection was an image of our home and our family.
“I don’t want to,” I say, handing it back to her. She looks confused yet curious, and before she can press me, I ask, “Did Pandora tell you about the Tomorrow Party?”
I remember Pandora mentioning it was Mallie who inspired her to sign up for the armada in the first place.
“No, I haven’t seen her since Helios’s Halo. I came because I Saw myself joining. I’m one of the newest members.”
“You Saw yourself?”
“Back when we could still See visions in the Psy . . . yes, I foresaw that I would join this Party. And of course it’s not surprising to find you here. If I had any doubts about any of this, they’re quieted knowing it has the Wandering Star’s blessing.”
She bows her head slightly, and I feel a line of sweat forming along my hairline. I know I should keep quiet, but my conscience is shouting at me, and I can’t help myself.
“Mallie, the truth is I don’t—”
The place falls silent so abruptly that I stop speaking. I survey the room, and I gasp along with everyone else as hundreds of silver bubbles are released at once, and they float into the air above us. As they glide gently along the ceiling, I see that each one contains a different imagined galaxy. They’re everyone’s visions of various universes.
Colors and shapes swirl within each bubble, and as they dance together they create an ethereal and entrancing light show. I see blue worlds and new constellations and unknown stars, and I think of the earthlings when they washed up on Phaetonis, tiny and tired and terrified. I try to picture how it would feel to peel back a layer of existence and glimpse a larger universe.
Thirteen Rising Page 17
