Zodiac (24 page)

Amanta hums softly as she polishes my much-abused boots, while Sirna clips off the ragged ends of my fingernails. I wish they wouldn’t, that they would let me take care of myself, but they insist on keeping every tradition alive, even in these times. I think that to them, letting go of the little things means we’ve given up the big ones.

Sirna seems slightly less hostile to me this morning. She believes some of the ambassadors plan to blindside me at the Plenum, and whatever she thinks of me personally, she won’t tolerate an affront to our House. “Charon of Scorpio is stirring things up, but he’s just the talking head. Someone else writes his script. We don’t know who.”

“Why can’t I speak first thing? Ophiuchus could attack again any minute.”

“I don’t set the agenda.” Sirna puts her nail clippers away. She’s brought me a tailored azure court suit and a simple coronet with the Cancrian glyph outlined in silver. She had the coronet made overnight, and I know it’s not really for me. It’s to honor our House. She says the Guardian of Cancer should look the part.

I want to snap at her that I couldn’t care less about clothes right now—only I remember that I don’t represent just
me
anymore. I now stand for every Cancrian. So I sit still and let them dress me however they like.

The vault doors swing open, and the men come in, looking grim. “We’ve spoken with the local army unit,” says Mathias. “They’re sending us an escort.”

“Have you made notes for your next speech?” Amanta asks me. “You could rehearse with us if you like.”

I shake my head. “Thank you, but I don’t think anyone in this room wants to hear it.”

Sirna purses her lips. “I must speak the truth, Guardian. You’d be wise to retract certain points that seem . . . unreasonable. Say you were mistaken. Keep it simple.”

“You mean Ochus.”

Her ebony cheeks soften. “Guardian, you’re so young. You’ve barely trained. Can you honestly say you’re so certain of what you saw that you would gamble the reputation of House Cancer and let slide this opportunity to unite the Zodiac?”

A flash of heat surges up my neck, searing my cheeks, nose, and eyes, and I can feel the tantrum, the storm of tears, the meltdown I’m yearning to have at the unending injustice of it all.

I’ve done what they asked. I read the stars, and I swore to always act in the best interest of Cancer. That oath led me to sacrificing everything I would rather be doing—searching for my family, helping rebuild my home—and it’s sent me all over the galaxy on a crazy quest that’s made me the laughingstock of the Zodiac.

And now my own people want to turn me into someone I’m not.

I knew when I accepted the Guardianship that I would be giving everything up. But there are some things I have to hold on to, if only for the sake of performing my duties in this role. Integrity is one of them.

“I’m certain, Sirna.”

WE TAKE SIRNA’S ARMORED CAR,
flanked by soldiers on hover-scooters, and I feel a rush of relief when I see Hysan already waiting for us at the hippodrome.

His hair is freshly trimmed, and he’s dressed more elegantly than ever. His court suit is a shade of purple so deep it’s almost black. He grins at the coronet in my hair. “Lovely.” Then he gives me a closer inspection. “You didn’t sleep well.”

“She was ambushed in the street last night by snipers,” says Mathias.

Hysan’s eyes grow wide. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I nod, and Mathias starts describing the attack, but he stops midsentence. At the far end of the hall, students are waving Cancrian banners and chanting my name. Fifty of them at least.

“Rho! Rho! Rho!”
They rush toward me, snapping my picture with their Waves and trying to touch me, until Mathias intervenes and hustles me into the ruby stair pipe.

Inside the arenasphere, hundreds of holograms drift overhead, a circus of pixilating colors. Below, the tiered seats are full. Dozens of micro-cameras swarm around us, and we swat them away as we weave through throngs of spectators toward the stage. As usual, Mathias goes first, opening a path.

When Mathias’s back is turned, Hysan’s hand closes around my wrist, and he pulls me away to a secluded corner of the arena.

He turns to me in the shadow of an emergency exit, where no one is close enough to hear. I sneak a glance at the crowd—Mathias is going to worry when he notices I’m missing.

“Rho, I’ve thought it over, and I’m going to address the Plenum today,” says Hysan, speaking loudly over the arena noise. “My ambassador is already getting me a timeslot. I’m going to reveal my true identity.”

My eyes feel like they’re taking up my whole face.
“
You’re going to
what
?”

“I’ll tell everyone about the attack on our ship, that way there’s no question about the Psy weapon. Then I’ll let them know I believe you, that Ophiuchus is real, and that House Libra stands with House Cancer.”

I give a kind of flying leap and hug him, and his husky laugh tickles my ear. When we pull apart, I say, “Hysan, there’s going to be a lot of fallout. I mean with your people, after you reveal the truth. You said it the other day, you’ve broken your Guardian’s oath for me—I don’t want to ask you to do more.”

“That’s just it, though. You don’t have to ask.” He sweeps a curl from my face, leaving a line of heat on my skin. “I know you don’t like secrecy, but it’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve never had a role model like you to teach me a better way.” Deep dimples form on his cheeks.

Even though I never would have believed it possible, I’m smiling, too. “I owe you.”

“No, Rho. I owe you.” His expression grows uncharacteristically serious, but his eyes retain all their warmth. “Ambassador Frey told me a mass of Psynergy probed four of our flying cities late last night. If you hadn’t warned me, I wouldn’t have known to shield them.”

It takes me a moment to digest what he just said. “Then . . . we did do some good,” I sputter. “This—all of this hasn’t been for nothing.”

Before I can clear my head, he muddles everything even more by leaning into me and laying two slow kisses on either of my cheeks. The brush of his lips against my skin makes my brain buzz.

“Those cities are home to twelve million people,” he whispers, his mouth now near my ear. “I’m going to tell the whole world what you did. You’ll always have House Libra’s deepest gratitude.”

“Rho!”

I hear Mathias’s voice calling out close by, but he hasn’t found us yet.

“She’s here!” shouts Hysan, leading me to Mathias, while my mind races at the speed of my pulse. Just as the three of us meet, a little girl approaches and pinches my arm. I turn to look and am struck by her otherworldly, childish beauty.

She has skin as pale as the inside of a cantaloupe and curly copper hair, and she looks exactly like her thieving twin brother.
“Rubidum?”

“What have you done to Caasy?” she asks, her tunnel-like eyes expanding. “He’s so obsessed with that black opal of yours, he won’t even come out to play.”

“Where is he?” I snap. “I need it back!”

“Then the stars must have put you in my way.” She pulls out the stone from her pocket.

I gasp, unsure if I should reach for it or toss it away. Ochus could use it.

Hysan sees what’s happening, and he swipes it from her hand. “I brought something with me,” he says, pulling out a velvet pouch. “It’s veiled from the Psy,” he explains to me before slipping the stone inside.

“Thanks,” I say, amazed, as he hands me the pouch. Then I look at Rubidum. “Why did he take it?”

“He thought you were on a suicide mission,” she says, shrugging as though that were the most normal kind of mission to be on. “He knew what the stone was, and he was worried you didn’t, so he took it. To protect Cancer. And to play with it himself, of course.” She smiles brightly. “But
mostly
so it wouldn’t get lost with your bodies.”

I’m not sure if I believe that’s what really happened, but either way, I’m happy Rubidum had the sense to bring the stone back to me. “Where is he?” I growl.

She tilts her head and pouts. “Caasy wouldn’t come with me. I had to answer the summons on my own.”

I blink. “Summons?”

“Yes. Very inconvenient. I’ve been traveling for days. This carnival had better be worth it.” She nudges against me with a wry smile. “Your song has quite the following on Gemini. I didn’t know you were a drummer! We should start an intergalactic band—I hear Lord Neith has perfect pitch!”

Sirna takes my elbow and hustles me forward. “It’s time.” Mathias falls in line behind us.

As we pass the ambassadors’ throne-like seats, I see Morscerta whispering with his aides, and again I wonder if he’s a hologram. So I seize the moment to brush against his sleeve.

The touch gives me a slight static shock, and he must feel it, too, because he turns with a scowl of indignation, which quickly transforms into a gracious smile. “My lady Rhoma.”

“Sorry, sir. This place is quite crowded,” I say, hurrying on.

He’s no hologram. His dark aura must be some sort of energy field. For personal protection or to mask his appearance, I don’t know.

I glance around the audience, wondering how many other visitors are really who they seem.

Again, I climb the short run of stairs and stand alone on the half-moon stage, facing my inquisitors. Only this time, the arena is filled to capacity. My heart’s beating shakes my whole frame, like it’s the hiccups.

I bat the flying cameras away and try to clear my throat. Others have joined the ambassadors on the main floor, and more gilded seats have been added. One newcomer is radiant little Rubidum. Another new arrival leaves me thunderstruck:
Lord Neith.

Even sitting, his regal figure towers over everyone. He wears a golden court suit, and perched on his short white hair is a high-church miter bearing the Libran glyph, the Scales of Justice. His quartz-white eyes are sharp and amazingly human. Hysan sits directly behind him, and when I give him a questioning look, he merely quirks his eyebrows and shakes his head.

Ambassador Charon is whispering to an old man wearing a massive holographic crown that looks incredibly real and is engraved with a Scorpion. In fact, all six newcomers wear headdresses adorned with royal glyphs. I see Sagittarius’s Archer, Leo’s Lion, Pisces’s Fish. Why are so many of the other Guardians at the Plenum today?

They would have to have started their trips many days ago to cover such vast distances, and no one knew I would address the Plenum before yesterday.
Right?

The crowd quiets down, and someone’s standing to speak. It’s Morscerta. Next to him sits a dull-eyed boy of five or six, wearing a royal Aquarian crown twice the size of his head. Morscerta pats the child Guardian with fondness (though whether it’s genuine or for show, I can’t tell), then speaks in his strange, lilting voice.

“Greetings, Honored Rhoma. May I ask why my young Supreme Guardian has been summoned into your presence?”

A horrid dread makes me stagger . . . as suddenly, I realize why we’re all here.

I catch hold of the lectern, and without thinking, I shout, “It’s an ambush!”

The crowd erupts in angry hollering, and for the first time, I notice many of the seats are packed with wiry Scorps in dark glasses. They look surlier than everyone else, and suddenly I’m reminded of their conflict on Sagittarius.

I look around to see who else is in the audience. None of the students are here, and I can’t spot a single one of the Cancrians I saw in the lobby. Someone has rigged this.

I try to speak above the noise. “There are too many Guardians gathered in one place. We’re a sitting target. We have to separate ourselves and scatter!”

Beside me, Charon lifts the speaking staff and bangs its long rod on the floor. Every voice falls silent, and he lets the tension gather. It’s clear he knows how to control a crowd. For such a secular House, the Scorps seem to be carrying on a lot like zealots these days.

When he turns to me, he’s smiling, but his face looks more than ever like a rapier. “Guardian, you agreed to submit to more questioning. Are you afraid we’ll expose your hoax?”

I pound the lectern, knocking my coronet askew. “You have to listen. This same thing happened on Cancer. Ophiuchus struck us when nearly all our Zodai Guards were together in one place.”

“Enough fantasy, child.” Charon brandishes his staff. “Now. First question. Is it true you left your House in the middle of the night without informing your Matriarchs?”

I’m shaking with frustration. “Yes, but—”

“A simple yes or no is sufficient.” Charon beams his greasy smile at the spectators, then rounds on me. “Is it true you and your lover stole a ship belonging to another House?”

I stare, openmouthed and mortified, but Hysan shoots to his feet and says, “I offered the lady a ride. She’s no thief.”

Charon wheels around and points his staff at Hysan. “Guards, escort this heckler from the Plenum.”

“Wait a minute,” starts Hysan—but four soldiers materialize from the crowd and Taser him. My horrified scream is drowned by the hooting and clapping from the Scorps in the audience.

“Stop!”
I yell as the soldiers bundle Hysan’s limp body toward the exit. I look to Sirna for help, but her seat is empty. Mathias seems to have vanished, too, and Lord Neith sits so completely motionless, I wonder if he’s been switched off. Sirna was right—the ambassadors blindsided us. I led us right into a trap.

Charon reads from a screen floating in front of him. “Admiral Crius informed your people that you were raising disaster relief funds. Did you raise one single coin to aid your House?”

I bow my head. “No.”

“Louder, please.”

“No, I did not.”

“Is it true,” says Charon, “that you crept into House Gemini masked in a cloaking veil?”

“I can testify to that.” Rubidum hops to her feet. “Rho materialized in our playroom like a magician. Such a theatrical entrance. She’s a queen of melodrama.”

After her brother’s treachery, I shouldn’t be surprised she’s contributing to my humiliation. I’d thought since she brought me the stone, that she’d had a change of heart. But I was wrong.

Her Guardian tiara flashes golden reflections as she climbs up in her chair and stands to face the audience. “Rho isn’t malicious, fellow Excellencies. She’s simply blinded by anger over the death of her friends. Revenge is a tale without end, I warned her.”

“A tale without end,” the audience echoes, as if this phrase explains everything.

She resumes her seat and Charon gives her a bow. “Our thanks for your testimony, honored Rubidum.” He looks now to the row of seats where Hysan was just sitting. “And, Lord Neith, did this girl not use the same devious veil to invade your House as well?”

After a slight delay, Neith lifts his chin. “Insufficient data.”

I hold my breath, as my heart counts off the seconds of silence that follow Neith’s declaration. I have to do something—I can’t let them expose Hysan’s secret like this—

“It appears the Guardian of Libra has been napping.” Charon turns to the audience with a mocking sneer.

I hold my exhale until the crowd explodes in guffaws, and the threat is over.

It takes a minute for Charon to settle everyone down, and I keep glancing up at the ceiling, imagining ways Ochus might attack us. The Dark Matter has set off explosions, burned the atmosphere with acidic rain . . . what else can he do with it?

I search for Mathias again but find no sight of him.

“Final question,” Charon booms, making me jump. “We know from eyewitnesses that you were visiting Empress Moira when her orbiting lab exploded. Is it true you fled in your stolen ship without offering a ride to a single man, woman, or child?”

My feet go numb, followed by my legs, stomach, chest, until my whole being is submerged in an inability to feel. It’s like even my body is jumping ship and abandoning me. I let those people die. I brought Ophiuchus to them, and then I didn’t save a single soul.

“It’s true.”

Now the crowd noise grows to a clamor, and I feel tears welling up. Once more, Morscerta rises to his feet and takes the speaking staff. Beneath his courteous manner, he has a potency that commands attention, and the arenasphere falls so abruptly quiet, I hear myself breathing.

“Guardians, Excellencies, this whimsical episode has clearly charmed us.” Again, the Aquarian’s silken voice startles me. “But on this last day of our session, let us settle down and turn to more serious topics before we close.”

When the others nod assent, Morscerta speaks to me in a sweet, almost tender tone. “Rhoma Grace, thank you for your fascinating comments. You are dismissed.”

He bangs the staff on the floor, and the subject is closed.