Wandering Star: A Zodiac Novel (14 page)

Hysan’s eyes flash, and the darkness deep within him, the counterbalance to his sunniness, rises closer to the surface. In a voice devoid of light, he says, “My lady, do not mistake my adoration of you for servitude. You may be the better seer, but I am the better judge of people. I will act as I feel is right, as I’ve sworn to do as a Guardian of the Zodiac.”

There’s nothing I can say. Hysan is right. So I just stare at him in defiant silence, my arms crossed.

“You’re still so determined not to trust me.” His voice is suddenly low and sad. “Can’t you remember how you felt when Mathias wouldn’t listen to you?”

I look down to the stone ground, my neck unable to hold my head up. I can’t believe he would bring up Mathias now. And yet, once I move past the sting, I realize Hysan is right again. While I don’t think Aryll is a double
agent, if Hysan has a doubt, I owe it to him to investigate it. After all, a mind closed to other possibilities here would be just like the stubborn mindset that led to the armada.

“Hysan . . .” I meet his gold-green gaze, and I’m startled by the pain painted on his features. “There’s enough going on without us fighting each other. Can I just talk to him first and see what I think before we do anything?”

He nods after a moment. “As you wish, my lady.”

With that, we’re out of words; silence brings out the sharpness of the stings our argument has caused.

“I’ll leave you to sleep,” murmurs Hysan. “Good night.” As he moves toward the door, I reach for his hand.

He turns and looks at me, and in the flickering blue light, I see the hunger Stanton spotted in Hysan’s eyes. But I think what truly bothered my brother was seeing my own hunger reflected back whenever I look at Hysan.

I slowly lead him toward the bed. Desire spreads to Hysan’s face and body, until I can feel it emanating from him like a physical force, making my blood buzz. I pull down the zipper of his coveralls, and he steps out from them until he’s left wearing only boxers.

The new muscles in his chest make me think of Mathias, but I jettison the thought from my mind. “Stay with me,” I whisper to Hysan, moving close enough to inhale his cedary scent. I pull off my long sleeping shirt so I’m also in my underwear.

“Ask me first,” he says, his voice husky as he moves closer, pressing into me. His skin is smooth and firm against mine, triggering goose bumps wherever he touches me. He feels warm and strong and safe—exactly how I want to feel.

“Hysan,” I whisper, circling my hands around his neck. “Kiss me?”

He dives for my mouth, and we fall into bed. He’s everywhere all at once, wrapping my body in his, consuming me with his appetite. I want him
so much, want to feel him all over me, to lose myself in him—but to my horror, tears burn my eyes and a sob bubbles up my throat.

“Rho—” Hysan pulls away as I cocoon into myself, rolling onto my side in embarrassment. “What is it?” he asks, stroking my hair as I cry into the mattress.

When I bring my face up to catch my breath, covered in tears and snot, Hysan wipes the wetness away with his thumbs. “Don’t be ashamed,” he whispers, as I try to turn away again. “I’m not judging you.”

I shake my head, feeling my cheeks burn. “I don’t know,” I whisper back, even though it’s not true.

Being with Hysan makes me feel too much like I’ve let Mathias go—and I’m not yet ready to. Especially after tricking myself into seeing him in the Ephemeris tonight. “Do you think we could just . . . lie here?” I ask, staring at the high ceiling to avoid his gaze.

“We can do anything you want.” Hysan softly kisses my cheeks and forehead and chin and earlobes and nose and neck until I’m smiling and breathing again.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “It’s been such a crazy trip—we worked so hard, brought so many people together . . . and all for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” he says, cupping my face with his hand. “You got to cross Sagittarius off your Zodiac Dozen.”

I laugh, and the sound is so sudden and brazen it startles me. The Zodiac Dozen is an old universal joke, a checklist of the twelve things a person is supposed to do—one on each House—before dying. “I bet you’ve done a Full Orbit,” I say.

“Never checked, actually.” He sits up and rests his back against the bed’s headboard, interlocking his hands behind his hair. “Let’s find out.”

I nestle into his chest and say, “Okay—we’ve obviously both wandered through Sagittarius already. But did you ever swim with a Scorpion whale, sun sail on Leo, or tour the Aquarian royal palace?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”

I tilt my head back to look up at him. “
You swam with a Scorpion whale?
What was that like?”

“Indescribable.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head. “They have six flippers on each side and swim faster than you would believe. The trick is keeping your feet away from the flippers so the whale doesn’t sting you with its whip tail.”

“What else?” I ask, curious to know everything I can about him.

“Well, I’ve obviously befriended a Libran . . . touched my imagination on Gemini . . . impressed a Virgo . . . what’s that so far?”

“Seven out of twelve. I think I’m only at, like, three.” I trace the number with my finger on Hysan’s chest.

“I hope you’re not counting the Libran one,” he murmurs, “because technically
I
befriended
you
.”

Ignoring him, I press on. “Have you opened a Bull’s Head bank account on Taurus?”

“Yes.”

“Sought wisdom from a Capricorn?” The thought of the Tenth House makes my grin fade a little.

“Think we can both cross that one off,” says Hysan, sounding sad, too.

“Had your stars read by a Piscene?”

“Yes.”

“Slept with an Ariean?”

He goes quiet, and I look up at his face. “Since you’re turning Ariean red, I’ll take that as a resounding yes—”

“A gentleman doesn’t speak of such things,” he murmurs, glowing scarlet.

“Guess I picked the right
House
to do that in, but the wrong
guy
—”

I burst into laughter as Hysan starts tickling me, and we roll around on the bed until he’s on top and has me pinned down. We’re both breathing heavily from our laughter and closeness.

“But what about the Taboo?” I blurt, and as soon as I ask it, my gaze drifts
from his face to the ceiling as I feel my cheeks flood with color. “I mean—if the Aerian you were with—even if she wasn’t a Guardian . . . it’s still
wrong
, isn’t it? Whether or not anyone knows, you’re still a Guardian.”

I know saying this makes me the ultimate hypocrite, but I also don’t understand how he breaks that rule so casually when I’ve done it once and am still brimming with guilt.

“I don’t believe in the Taboo,” he says simply, as if his opinion nullifies the law. I meet his eyes in surprise. “Though I would rather not discuss this with you yet, since I feel you should come to your own conclusion once you’ve seen all the worlds of the Zodiac. You should gather the facts for yourself.”

I stare into the small golden star of the Scan in his right iris until I’m no longer seeing it. Even though I shouldn’t be, I’m thinking of Mathias and the wall that stood between us. He wanted me to see the universe his way, but Hysan just wants me to
see
it.

“If I promise not to let you bias me,” I whisper, “will you tell me what you think?”

When he smiles, the candles around us seem to brighten, as if they’re extensions of his light. “I’ve visited every House of the Zodiac, and I have the overwhelming sensation that not everyone would be happiest where they are.”

A sense of unease settles in my belly, his words reminding me of Ferez and his future of Risers. “The universe is unending, but we aren’t,” whispers Hysan. “No matter what happens to our souls, our physical lives do end.” He strokes my cheek, as if he can tell my thoughts have strayed into the shadows and he’s trying to pull me back to the present. “Should we let things we have no control over determine our destiny? Or, as Ferez said, do we deserve a choice?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” I’m proud of being a Cancrian. It’s not that I don’t want a choice . . . it’s just that I don’t want to lose my identity amid so much freedom.

“We forgot something,” says Hysan, his tone now lighter again. “Last item on the Zodiac Dozen—fall in love with a Cancrian.”

His gaze smolders, and my mouth goes dry. Hysan hasn’t used the word
love
with me yet.

“You were right after all,” he whispers, his lips brushing mine. “Full Orbit.”

I WAKE UP IN THE
morning with my head on Hysan’s chest. Now that I’m alone, I spend a long time admiring his golden face without worrying about anyone catching me. Asleep, the new concerns he’s been carrying disappear, and he looks more like the light-hearted Libran I first met at my swearing-in ceremony.

The longer I stare at him, the more certain I am that Nishi’s right. I do love him. The problem is, I’m still in love with Mathias, too.

Not that it can matter. I’m a Cancrian who can’t think about love. My focus must be on war, like an Ariean.

I consider waking Hysan, but now that I’ve seen him so unburdened, I don’t want to bring him back to the imbalance of the present. He doesn’t stir as I slip out of the room with my Wave.

Sunlight spills through the mansion’s many windows, and everything is bright and quiet in the early hours. I step outdoors to stroll around the back of the sprawling estate, which I haven’t explored yet. After weaving through an intricate hedge maze, I come upon a field of firebursts—red-orange
flowers that absorb so much heat from Helios they occasionally spit out firework-like sparks.

The cool air becomes balmy as I walk through the blossoms. They all face the sun, their petals glowing like embers, and every few minutes, fiery sparks spurt into the air. Once I pass them, the balmy heat becomes cool again, and I pop out in a sitting area dotted with outdoor furniture and fire pits.

I lean back in a reclining seat and hear a rustling sound in the bushes behind me. From a tangle of branches emerges a four-legged animal with a velvety violet hide and facial features that are startlingly human.

It’s a centaurion, the creature this planet was named after. They’re all over Sagittarius, but it’s impossible to tell. They show themselves only when they want to be seen.

This one isn’t very big, so it must be a doe. She sniffs curiously at my feet and then turns her wide Sagittarian eyes up to me. Her face is round, and she doesn’t have a snout or whiskers, just a small velvet bump for a nose and a mane of lustrous black hair.

“Hi there,” I whisper. She whinnies in response, and I slowly stretch my hand out so I won’t scare her. When the centaurion doesn’t move away, I pet her soft fur. Eventually the creature clomps closer and rests her head on my lap. I keep stroking her head with one hand, and with the other I pry open my Wave and pull up Ferez’s report. Time to finish Vecily’s story.

The final time Vecily spoke in public was after the Houses struck down the Trinary Axis’s decision to secede from the Zodiac. The Taurian, Cancrian, and Leonine Guardians returned to their homes in disgrace and appealed to their people. Below is a transcript of Vecily’s speech from that day.

The Zodiac is not one. We are twelve. To unite the Houses as one requires a special type of bond, one missing from our universe:
trust
.

None of us believe our neighbor has our best interests at heart. This is why the Fire Houses ally and vote together on most issues. It’s why Scorpio and Virgo turn inward and close themselves off from their brethren. It’s why Sage Huxler has such a hard time coaxing us to contribute the secrets of our worlds for preservation in the Zodiax. It’s why I’m here before you today.

There can be no unity until there is trust. And trust will not come until we can speak openly and accept all lifestyles. We are too focused on the stars above and not paying enough attention to the people below. Rather than enforce rules and beliefs that divide us—such as the ban on inter-House marriage, and our institutionalized prejudices against Risers—we should be seeking ways to bring the Zodiac together. How can we call ourselves one galaxy when our own laws forbid us from truly uniting?

In the galaxy’s current state, there can be no trust. The air is too full of fear, which keeps us from reaching out to each other and revealing our true selves. We are too concerned with fitting into an existing system rather than modifying that system to fit us.

My fellow Taurians, I am asking you to listen to me. I am not perfect, but I have a Guardian’s Sight, and I have Seen a terrible tragedy in our stars if we do not make a change. I beg you to stand with me so that we may be the first House to step into a future where everyone is equal and all ways of life are accepted. Let us light the way so the other Houses may follow.

The Second House has always led the Zodiac in teamwork, and we are the natural choice to bring
unity back to our galaxy. Let us begin by seceding and forming a new and more perfect union with Cancer and Leo, so that the other Houses may eventually join us in a new order, one that encourages true harmony and acceptance.

When it came time to vote, the Taurians impeached Vecily, just as Cancer did Brianella. Only House Leo stood by its Leader, so Blazon offered Vecily and Brianella refuge, and the three carried their rebellion underground, recruiting members from every House to their cause. Yet Vecily never spoke again, nor did her heart ever recover.

It’s my opinion that after Vecily saw what happened to Datsby, she began to fear anything that might make her stand out from her peers. She first faced this fear when she was a new Guardian and saw the omen in her Ephemeris, and after her Advisors rejected her insight, she shut herself down for a long time. When she finally gathered the courage to try again, she put all the fight she had left into the appeal to her House, and, once again, she lost. And this final failure is what broke her. She was abandoned by her people, just as Datsby was, and so Vecily gave up. She never again found her voice.

While it could be argued that the Cancrian and Leonine Guardians wanted to go to war for personal gain, I believe Vecily’s motives were pure. She was trying to prevent the oncoming bloodshed that was to persist for the next one hundred years. In the end, she was proven right: Once the existing system was breached and the Houses were able to create a new one, they chose to become independent, sovereign worlds. Yet it’s clear from her speech to her House that this was not her end goal. Her true hope was for the Houses to ultimately reunite in acceptance.

Every day, the Zodiac moves further away from that goal. We are forgetting each other. Each House may be its own world, but Helios traps us all within her gravity.

Our orbit around our galactic sun is a delicate balance of unity and space. If the energy that binds us were to pull our planets tighter together, we would burn. If it slackened and moved our orbit farther out, we would freeze. I believe the same can be said of the Zodiac people.

The air is growing chilly out here. It’s time to make good on the second part of Vecily’s vision by getting to know our neighbors and remembering that we are part of a larger whole.

When I’m done reading, there are tears in my eyes. The centaurion picks her head up and looks at me, as if she senses the shift in my mood. Ferez is right, and so was Vecily: This fight isn’t about unity versus freedom. It’s about striking the right balance of both.

The thought reminds me of what Ochus said the last time we met, about good and evil. The point, he said, is not to eradicate one and salvage the other but to find the harmony between them. I have to speak to him again. I need to find out what he knows.

I give the centaurion a last pet and stand up. Within seconds, the doe vanishes into the hedge and out of sight. I cut across the field of hot firebursts, slip inside the mansion, and head into one of the White Rooms, where I switch on Vecily Matador’s Ephemeris.

As soon as I’m Centered, a vision manifests, as if it’s been waiting impatiently for me to regain my Sight. I see my face in the sky again, and I’m transforming into a Riser. I watch my hair thinning, face narrowing, eyes going glassy . . . I’m becoming Aquarian.

Of all the Houses, Aquarius is one of the last I’d expect to fit into. They’re cerebral and bookish, whereas I rely far more on instinct and emotion than
logic. I move closer to inspect the omen, and it vanishes. In its place is an icy giant.

Ochus’s gargantuan body is already fully formed, his menacing sneer freezing my blood.
I told you Capricorn was the true target.

I tether myself more tightly to the Psy, becoming attuned to the deeper plane, and now that I’m unblocked, I can once again sense the shakiness in the Psynergy surrounding me. The universe is becoming less stable by the moment.

Who’s the master, and what’s his next move?
I ask, faking a confidence I don’t feel.

Ophiuchus’s frigid stare is emotionless, and I can practically see the thoughts running through his transparent head. Every time we meet, he could just as easily decide to kill me as help me. I see him mulling over that choice again now . . . and it hits me that there’s a reason he hasn’t ended me yet.

He wants something from me.

When I offered my aid before, you were revolted
, he says testily.

I didn’t trust you.

That hasn’t changed. So what has?

I’m going to have to give answers to receive them.
I realized not everything is as black and white as it seems. I know now that sometimes you have to become allies with the wrong people for the right reasons.

He nods approvingly, as if this is the answer he’s been seeking.
You have grown wiser since our last encounter.

I hate being complimented by this murderer.
Does that mean you’ll answer my damn question now?
I snap.

Ochus’s icy body glistens and grows, until his Psynergy is pressing in on me from all sides. The invisible pressure grows so intense that it constricts my neck and chest, and for an instant I think he might finally finish me off—

I don’t know the master’s true identity, but I know how you can find out.
The Psynergy retreats back into him, and at last I can catch my breath again.
I try pulling in the air subtly, so he won’t see how much he hurt me. My throat burns as oxygen blows through it.

There is an old piece of Capricorn wisdom from my day:
Only through Death’s hand is our true enemy revealed.
You will notice that even though I could kill you right here where we stand—and could have killed you many times before—I’ve refrained.

I’m not interested in his perverse bit of wisdom, but I know better than to set him off again.
How does that show me the master’s identity?

Ophiuchus’s stare turns calculating, as if a new thought, one I can’t read, has suddenly entered his mind.
First
 . . .
you must swear to do something for me once the master is exposed.

He does want something from me. But just like I can’t imagine actually doing anything for him, I can’t imagine there’s anything I have that he could possibly need.
What is it?
I ask tentatively.

Free me from the everlasting coils of time.

What?
I ask in a tone full of incredulous disgust.
You’re asking me
 . . .
you want me to make you mortal?

No. I want you to give me the death I have craved for so long.

I glare at him, even more confused and repulsed. The last time Ochus claimed to want to die, it was just to manipulate me so he could kill more of my people. I don’t trust he means it any more now than he did then.

You needn’t be wary, little crab
, he goes on when I don’t answer.
I am only asking you to swear to do the very thing you have long longed to do.

I already swore as much to myself when I set out to avenge Dad and Mathias. I might as well renew my vow to my target himself if it’ll get me to the master.

I swear it.

On your Mother’s life.

I stare straight into Ophiuchus’s black-hole eyes as I reaffirm my solemn oath to murder him.
On my Mother’s life.

Then you have my word as well. Take a ship to the asteroid belt between Houses Libra and Scorpio. The Marad uses Psy shields, so their headquarters are hidden, but one of their cells is located near there; they’re using the asteroid activity for cover. If you don’t appear to pose a threat, they probably will not shoot you on sight, but they will most definitely stop you mid-flight and board your ship. Once they identify you, they will capture you and tag you as a high-priority hostage, and it’s likely they will take you to their headquarters. Unless they decide to kill you outright.

This sounds more like a suicide mission than a plan.
I can’t help you if I’m dead
.

Exactly. We’re both risking everything. This is my only plan—the master is as skilled in games of the Psy as I am. He clouds my eye.

Say I live long enough to meet the master
.
What’s the point of knowing his identity if he kills me before I can tell anyone?

Surely your friends will be tracking your location as soon as the Marad captures you. I believe you are familiar with the concept of bait—you have played the role before, to much acclaim.

His icy form glints like a blade, and in its reflection I see the wreckage from the armada:
Firebird
plummeting into the Piscene planet Icthys, Mathias pummeling the airlock door, begging me not to abandon him—

I hate you
, I spit, my breathing growing shallow.

His body melts into a wintry wind, and as he gusts past me, I pluck meaning from his whispered breeze.
Your anger is a searing flame
 . . .
but you have not yet lost as much as you think.