Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(115)

44


HOUSE GEMINI IS FAR ACROSS the ecliptic from Aries, so Equinox will make another slingshot loop around the sun to boost our speed. We’re on our way now, and I’m in my cabin, thinking of Mathias.

“Rho? Are you awake?” Rubidum’s calling from the other side of the door. “There’s something Hysan thought you’d want to see.”

Equinox’s nose has already darkened and polarized when I come in, and my companions are near the curved glass, admiring our sun. I come to rest between them, and when I bump Hysan’s shoulder, he smiles.

“Light of the sun be with you,” he says, an oddly antiquated greeting.

“And with you,” I answer in kind.

We turn toward the golden fire, which is nearly out of range. “Now look to the right.” Hysan points to a blue jewel in the sky.

I widen my eyes. It’s Cancer.

She’s glowing as bright blue as ever, ringed now by a necklace of moon stones. It reminds me of the pearl necklace Mom gave me, uniting each of the House’s sacred symbols.

Unity. Ophiuchus. The irony.

Now, when I’ve lost everything and almost everyone, I feel truly naked for the first time. I have no place in the world, and the world has no place to offer me. I’m free . . . and just me.

Only I don’t know this me. I’ve never been her before. In a way, she can be a clean slate. The choice Crius once told me I had, many lifetimes ago. And the only thing I know about this new me is that the Cancer Sea runs through these veins, and this heart belts out a Cancrian tune.

The one truth I’ve always retained—the part of me that’s never faded and has gotten me through the worst—is my identity as a Cancrian. Charon challenged my very nature when he stood over the Cancer Sea and accused me of cowardice. But he doesn’t understand me because the lens he views me through is narrow.

I think back to Hysan’s jury, warning me against becoming so stubbornly set on Ochus—I was so focused on rallying others to my cause against the Thirteenth Guardian that I refused to see the army’s threat or entertain other points of view. It’s the same with Charon—he can only see me from the outside, through his Scorpion eyes.

The more we close off to the other Houses, the smaller our worlds grow. Even our worldviews begin to shrink. That’s why I have to save my world. Even though people go, Cancer can’t. Like Leyla and Sirna said, it has to live on.

Hysan said I’m the person the stars chose to safeguard our House, so that’s what I’ll do, in whatever ways I can. Only it’s not just Cancer that’s home anymore. It’s the Zodiac.

I’m trying to view our solar system the way Hysan sees it, as an extension of my home, a place full of intrigue and adventure and interesting people. Like him, I want to be a citizen of the galaxy, not just one planet. For now, though, land and oxygen would be good. And some familiar faces.

A new home for the new me. A home I will defend with my dying breath. Because the threat is still out there. The master and Ochus and the army.

I’ve been Guardian, so I’ve seen how things work at the top. And I’ve realized it’s always hard to effect change, whether you’re starting at a position of power or doing it from the ground up. Either way, you’re facing opposition—other people’s and your own—and you always have to fight hard.

So I’m going to keep doing what I do best: Reading the stars. I’ll go wherever help is needed. And I’ll use every free minute I have to hunt down the people responsible.

The ones who stole my home, my dad, and Mathias from me.

Just as Cancer’s moving out of view, I turn to my friends. “Let’s lower the shield and ping Cancer. Someone may still be there.”

I’ve started wearing my Ring again. I’m not hiding anymore. If Ochus wants another fight, I can touch him now. I’ll fight him into eternity.

Cancer’s power grid is still down, so we call to my home planet through the communal mind of the Psy. My friends hover near the helm, and we meditate in silence, waiting. Many intellects whisper through the Psy, but no voice arises from planet Cancer. After twenty minutes without a response, I hang my head.

Next we Wave the refugee camp deep under the surface of the Geminin planet Hydragyr. Given that holograms travel at the speed of light, there’s an eight-minute time delay. The first person to answer is Nishiko.

Since my Wave is scuffed and dented, and one corner has melted, Hysan transfers the image to the view screen, and the sight of Nishi’s familiar cinnamon-brown face brings the first real smile to my face, softening muscles I didn’t realize I’d been clenching.

“I’ve been watching for you, Rho. We knew you’d find us.”

We speak to each other like holo-ghosts, with long, tedious lags punctuating our talk. “Nishi, you’re still with the refugees? I thought you’d gone home.”

She lifts her chin and smiles. “I’ve got reasons for staying.”

Lady Agatha joins our conversation. “Blessed Mother,” she says. I start to protest, but she can’t hear me yet. “The people call me Guardian, but we Cancrians know our true protector.”

At length, I answer, “Thank you for your blessing, Agatha. It kept me steady.”

After eight minutes, a new face pops up on the screen, and he’s laughing. “Don’t tell me you’ve got religion, Rho.”