“Whose idea was this?” I ask Hysan when he comes over.
“Don’t you see what’s happened? You’ve given everyone hope, Rho,” he says, his face shining with light. “You’ve been Guardian of Cancer three weeks, and you’ve done what no one’s been able to do in centuries—you brought the Zodiac together.”
He wraps my hand in both of his, and on my other side, Mathias tenses. “I’ve known since I first saw you at your swearing-in, and I’ve felt it these past few weeks in your presence, watching you with leaders from every House: Your light blazes too bright to be contained in one constellation.”
His eyes have never been bigger or greener. “You’re destined to be a guiding star not of one world, but all of them. If not you, who?”
Albor Echus stands and calls for order. The ambassadors must have finished their discussion. “The Plenum has voted. We appoint Holy Mother Rhoma Grace of the Fourth House to lead our united fleet.”
The faces in the audience shine starry bright. My breathing races, and I feel dizzy. I steal a sideways look at Mathias. He and I are the only people onstage who aren’t smiling.
I stare at the audience again. I was willing to give my life to stop Ochus. I can’t hold back now.
“I accept.”
35
AN ARMADA, IT TURNS OUT, is a fleet of warships.
I have to learn these things quickly because the strategizing begins right after the vote, when I’m swept off the stage by Ambassador Morscerta and whisked into a meeting with all the Guardians and ambassadors. They debate for eleven straight hours, dividing responsibilities among the Houses and nominating Zodai to lead the various charges. Just like my meetings on Oceon 6, I mainly spend the time listening and answering questions.
The next few days are a blur of these gatherings, sometimes with everyone at the hippodrome, sometimes with the Lodestars at the embassy, sometimes with other ambassadors at the village. Sirna moved me into one of the bungalows, so I only see Mathias and Hysan for small snippets of time—a quick bite here, a joint meeting there—but mostly, we’re each working on our own tasks. Hysan’s outsourced the production of Psy shields to a factory on Aries, and he’s now pulling on his vast network of people he’s met in his travels across the solar system to raise resources fast. Meanwhile, Mathias is training our Lodestars for combat.
Early on it becomes clear that my function as the armada’s leader is to be more mascot than mastermind—and I’m not complaining. I’m relieved there are better-suited people at the helm, but I wish the twelve Admirals would invite me to their military meetings about the operation. Every time I ask to attend, they insist I focus on the metaphysical battle—my part—and leave the physical one to them. I know they’re probably right, but I just want to be sure we’re ready.
Ochus must know we have a plan, and he’s already proven he’s an extraordinary Seer. Even if we’re veiled from him, I want to know we’ve thought through every possibility.
? ? ?
The night before we launch our attack, the ambassadors plan a universal celebration in the village. It’s a revival of the Helios’s Halo festival.
The festival is an old Zodiac tradition from before the Trinary Axis. The Houses used to come together to celebrate the Zodiac’s top star, Helios, on the one day a year her flames were predicted to burn brightest. The celebration took place at night, under a ghostly sun: The day’s light would linger long after sunset, forming a phantom ring where it once shone, an effect dubbed Helios’s Halo.
No one’s seen Helios’s Halo since the final festival. Even though it’s obvious why the Guardians stopped celebrating it, no one knows why the actual effect stopped happening, not even Capricorn’s scientists. Piscenes believe Helios is punishing us for our divisiveness. While getting ready for the festival, I ask Sirna what she thinks.
She pauses painting my lips, letting her sea-blue gaze drift, and says, “I think it’s because we don’t look up as much as we used to.” I ponder what that means while she and Amanta finish styling me to their liking.
By the time they deem me ready, the festival has been under way for an hour. I walk outdoors and see people and holo-ghosts packing the village streets, gathering in front of every embassy, sitting at round tables, dancing, talking, eating, and mingling. The inter-market in the main square has been converted into a free food zone, and the line of people waiting winds around the whole village.