Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(26)
“Why can’t I greet them in my new uniform?” I ask, referring to the Zodai-style blue suit the sisters presented me with yesterday. They took turns sewing it; on the sleeve, instead of the three gold stars of the Royal Guard, they embroidered four silver moons.
I was so moved, I begged them to name something I could give them in return, and after rounds of refusals, Leyla finally said, “We want you to trust yourself.”
It was a strange request, but then, Leyla is strange—in a wise-beyond-her-years way.
“You wanted me to trust myself, and I think the suit you made me is the way to go.” I put as much authority into the words as I can. “Representatives from the Zodiac are coming because our House is in a state of emergency—what will they think if I show up dressed like I’ve come to have a good time?”
Leyla stops working, and her sapphire gaze meets mine in the mirror. “They will think the Cancrian people are still here, and no matter what else happens, we will live on, in you.”
I take her hands in mine, and for a long moment I don’t look away from her young face. I’ve never felt less qualified to lead—or more determined to work harder.
Once I’ve bathed, Leyla sits me down, turns me away from the mirror, and brushes a few styling products into my locks before spritzing them with a glossing dry-spray. Immediately, the long, wet strands begin to shorten and curve. Next, she applies light, velvety makeup to my skin. She spends more time on my cheekbones and eyes than anywhere else. Once she’s moved on to lipstick, Lola arrives with my clothes, and I’m pulled to my feet and helped into a white dress.
White is the traditional color for a Guardian to wear at her ceremony, in respect for the Guardian who’s passed. It reminds us it’s a bittersweet occasion. White is also the color of a bride’s wedding dress, so it symbolizes a Guardian’s commitment to House Cancer.
Guardians are allowed to form families, but Mother Origene never did. In public appearances, she’d say she was married to the stars.
“Now for the pearl coronet,” says Lola, opening an antique jewelry box and removing a glittering headpiece outlined with white pearls. One of Cancer’s sacred symbols, the Crab, sits at its center, formed from millions of tiny diamonds, each one refracting the light so that the crown sparkles radiantly. She sets it on my head, and only then do they let me turn around.
I’ve never seen the girl reflected back in my life.
My hair hangs nearly to my waist, and in place of the usual bouncy curls there’s a sea of glossy, golden waves that are soft to the touch. I feel like I could run my fingers through them without obstruction. My skin is creamy, with hints of bronze in my cheeks to set off my cheekbones, and my lips are painted a rich, reddish plum. But the most startling change is in my eyes: Using liner and sparkly shadow, Leyla made the pale sea green come alive. They’re the largest feature on my face.
The dress is made of a silky fabric so fine that when I move, the threads glisten like liquid. Two thin straps beaded with tiny silver pearls hang from my shoulders, the neckline cutting across my chest in a soft V shape and revealing more cleavage than I would normally show. The material is comfortable but tight, draping down to the floor, and it cinches my waist with a light belt of tiny silver pearls.
“How did you do this?” I ask, watching the girl in the mirror mouth the same question. She can’t be me.
“Holy Mother, when was the last time you looked at yourself?” asks Leyla, smiling proudly.
Before I can answer, there’s knocking. It must be Mathias picking me up. Lola pads to the door, and I grip the desk, a rush of nerves racking my chest. For some reason, I’m terrified of him seeing me like this.
“I need to talk to Holy Mother. It’s important.”
At the sound of the voice, I run to the door—no easy feat in four-inch heels. “Nishi? What is it?”
“Holy Helios!” She gasps on seeing me.
I grab her hand and pull her inside. Since there’s so much traffic in and out of the base today, there are no officers posted outside my door. Nishi is still ogling me. “You look amazing!”
“Thanks! Did you come to tell me something?”
“Yes—right—it’s about . . . Thirteen.”
I turn to Lola and Leyla. “Thank you so much. I never could have pulled this off without you.” I trust the sisters, but I don’t want to get them in trouble; so until I know what Nishi has to say, I’d rather not involve them.
Once they’re gone, Nishi hits a button on the flint Tracker around her wrist, and red holographic text sparks out. “Do you recognize this poem?”
I scan the text. “Of course. ‘Beware Ochus’—it’s a Cancrian children’s poem. Ochus is a snake monster our parents threaten will come get us if we misbehave.”
She nods, and the poem transforms into song lyrics. “On Sagittarius, we have a lullaby that warns of a wanderer named Ophius. On Virgo—”
“They have a fable about a talking serpent in a garden,” I say, hearkening back to Mom’s lessons and hoping Nishi will get to the point before we’re interrupted.
“Aquarius has a parable about twelve numbers that live harmoniously together, inside a clock, and the villain who ruins everything is—”
“Thirteen,” I finish, aghast.
There’s a knock at the door, but I don’t answer. The last two times I’ve read the black opal, the Dark Matter showed up again, just past the Twelfth House. I need to know what it means. “What are you saying, Nishi?”