Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(111)
Thanks to Hysan’s keen people-reading skills, it’s hard to take him by surprise. “What is it?” he asks, standing at the foot of the cocoon where I’m sitting.
I look down at the screen in my lap and shut it off. “I can’t.”
Hysan perches on the edge of the bed, leaving space between us. “I’m sorry he’s gone, Rho. He deserved better.”
Tears start running down my cheeks, and I’m helpless to stop them. “I . . . I closed the airlock door on him,” I say through the sobs—sobs that rattle my ribs and break my bones and stab my soul. “I didn’t let him come—I left him on that—I—I killed him.”
Hysan crushes me to his chest, and I crumble there, shaking and screaming and slobbering, and I can’t stop. Then I start to worry I’ll never stop.
The tears can never end. Dad and Mathias are gone. Cancer is barely hanging on. And for some reason, I’m still here.
“You were protecting him.” Hysan kisses my hair and strokes my back. “He had a way out, Rho. He had a skiff, and he was the best pilot of us all. If he didn’t leave, it’s because he was helping others, and he didn’t want to abandon them. Like you, he chose to do the honorable thing. Don’t take that from him.”
I really love the fairness of the Libran outlook. Or maybe it’s just Hysan. His special way of seeing the world makes me want to experience life through his eyes.
Our past and personalities couldn’t be more different, and yet everything about him resonates with me on a level that feels soul-deep. Mathias I’d been sure I liked since I was twelve . . . but Hysan was a complete surprise. Even now, I feel the same electric chemistry his closeness always produces. Any time we’re in the same room, there’s a magnetic pull between us, and my blood craves the Abyssthe-like buzz of his touch. Like he’s a real drug.
“There’s something else,” I say, pulling away from his hold and forcing myself to put more room between us. “Before the attack. Mathias and I . . . kissed.”
Hysan doesn’t react. He doesn’t move away or get angry, he just stares at me in silence.
“And I realized I have feelings for you both. I always have. And now . . . I can’t do this. With you.”
He nods. Even though he’s not emotional, I know he’s hurt because he’s retreating. His eyes are dimming, growing as light as air, until he’s so far removed from this moment that the only visible part of his right iris is the golden star.
He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. He presses his mouth to my skin and whispers, “At your service, my lady.”
When he gets to the doorway, he says, “My skiff’s been repaired. I’m leaving to help with the rescue. Take care of yourself, Rho.”
Without waiting for a response, he leaves.
42
WHEN WE LAND ON PHAETONIS, a full military motorcade squires us into the city from the spaceport. Captain Marq rides with us.
I expect to be taken to the hippodrome, so I’m surprised when we head into the international village. Today, it’s completely void of people, and leftover glasses and trinkets from the festival still litter the ground. My chest hurts just thinking of the night of Helios’s Halo, back when we had a tomorrow to fight for. When the Houses were friends. When Mathias smiled.
A special session has been convened to hear my report of what happened in the Wasp, and I’ve memorized what I’ll say. I’m going to share that Ophiuchus has a master—like Caasy predicted—and I’ll tell them about his plan to bring back the Thirteenth House.
I cross the plank into the Cancrian embassy, following Sirna. I’m relieved not to be in the arenasphere facing the Plenum for this report. After everything that’s happened, home is the only place I want to be.
Sirna walks ahead and leads me to the second bungalow, the only one I haven’t visited yet. The lobby is an open sandbox, filled with hammocks and embassy Waves for guests. The roof is an aquarium, housing various varieties of fish, seahorses, crabs, sea snakes, and even sharks. Sirna and I head straight to the top story—a vast, open-air ballroom.
The floor beneath us is the aquarium, and I realize it must span the entire height of the bungalow. The heavy fabric sky of Phaetonis hangs over us as Sirna walks off to her seat at the long table facing me, and then I’m left alone, staring at Guardians and ambassadors from the twelve houses.
There’s no audience today. No soldiers, no cameras, no holo-ghosts. Just all the representatives who are still alive to attend.
Everyone is glaring at me. My eyes land on blade-faced Charon, who rises. I thought he’d been suspended.
I give Sirna a questioning nod, but she lowers her eyes. What’s going on?
“Rhoma Grace.” Charon’s voice thunders through the quiet, and I flinch. “You have been charged with cowardice. How do you plea?”
Cowardice. The word echoes tauntingly in my ears, the way treason did, when Admiral Crius accused Mom. None of this makes any sense. I’m on trial? I thought I was here to give a report on Ophiuchus.
I catch Sirna watching me, so I lift my chin, determined to act with honor. “Ophiuchus outmaneuvered us, but—”
Charon bangs his fist on the table. The silence that follows has an echoing quality. “Guilty . . . or not guilty?”