But time can be an ally, too. My long hours alone in the healing pod have given me a chance to mull things over. In particular, something Ochus said: Why should I wish for death when the glory of my House will soon be restored? You read the prediction written in the stars.
I think back to the vision I was seeing in the Ephemeris all along, past the Twelfth House. The smoldering mass where the constellation Ophiuchus used to be.
It wasn’t just appearing to me—it was doing more: It was warping the other constellations out of shape. Like they were making room for something.
The Thirteenth House is coming back.
? ? ?
When I leave the pod, it’s late. The ship’s bell just rang twelve chimes, and the interior lights have been turned low. Sirna’s working an extra shift.
In her room, I pull up some research on one of the ship’s screens, looking for clues about the Dark Matter. I still don’t understand how Ophiuchus was able to destroy our planets with Psynergy—or how he managed to take out most of our fleet.
It turns out our own Holy Mother Origene delivered a lecture on metaphysical time, speculating that it might be reversible, asserting that time is nothing but a mental construct we create to make sense of the physical world. Theoretically, we should be able to travel through time in all directions, even sideways. She was running tests to confirm this theory when she died.
Empress Moira, still in a coma, was also doing work on metaphysical time. She believed that since time has neither beginning nor end, it must be linked in a smooth, continuous circle. In that case, we probably travel through the same points in time repeatedly.
I think about the vision of time I saw in the Ephemeris. It fits both theories.
But if Origene and Moira were both running active experiments on metaphysical time . . . that must be why they both built the quantum fusion reactors. They were collaborating. Were they on the trail of the time-worm? Could that be why Ochus awoke?
There’s a knock on the door. “My lady?”
“Come in.”
When Hysan walks inside, the first thing I want is to feel his arms around me and his mouth on mine, to be embraced in his warmth and light. But as soon as the impulse manifests, a competing one is born. A faction of dissent—the part of me that can’t let Mathias go.
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