His face flushes all over again, and—realizing how that sounded—I quickly add, “To be my Guide!”
I’ve never seen a face go from red to white so fast. Something flares in Mathias’s eyes, like shock—or worse, refusal. He looks straight ahead, not meeting my gaze, and says, “One of the more experienced Advisors would be a better choice. I’m new to the Royal Guard, unqualified to teach you.”
“Then we’ll make a perfect pair, since I’m unqualified to lead.”
“I still have a lot to learn about being an Advisor. It would be best if we each found our own mentors.”
“Mathias.” At the sound of his name, his eyes travel down to mine. For a moment I can almost kid myself that we’re bickering about an afterschool group and not the leadership of our House.
I take an uncertain step toward him. “We’re running out of familiar faces. I’m only asking for your help. And . . . if you can spare it, your friendship.”
He bows. “As you wish, Holy M—”
“What I wish,” I say loudly, before he can finish, “is that you use my name. Rho.” If Mathias ever calls me Mother, I will die.
“Rho?” he repeats, like it’s a dirty word.
“I’m sorry you don’t like it,” I say, crossing my arms. “But I called you Mathias and not Lodestar when you asked me to.”
Another stare-off.
Then, “As you wish.”
“Thank you.”
“In one week,” he says, picking up the old thread again, “there will be a ceremony and dinner in your honor, where you will be sworn in as our House’s new Guardian . . . Rho. It’s important you select the rest of your Advisors before then. During this week, I will also be training you.”
“What about my friends?”
“They have been given lodging on the base. They will be trained as Zodai, along with every surviving Acolyte.”
The word surviving is a punch to my gut. “I want to see them,” I say, my breathing shallow.
“I will try to arrange it.” He looks at me like he might say more, but instead he bows abruptly and strides to the door.
“Mathias?”
He stops and turns. “Yes?”
“I can’t do this.”
Speaking the words out loud, something hard and heavy shifts in my chest, allowing more air to reach my lungs. Like I’ve just removed an obstacle clogging my airways. I’m still as inadequate as I was seconds ago, but admitting it makes me feel like less of a fraud.
“The stars don’t lie,” he says, his soft baritone lacking its gentleness. “You’ve been chosen for a reason. Search your heart, and you’ll find it.”
His words of encouragement are as Cancrian as it gets, but they only make me feel worse.
I heard it in his tone, saw it in his eyes, sensed it in his demeanor.
Mathias doesn’t trust in me either.
? ? ?
The next day, I return to the room where I was made Guardian, and I sit with Crius, Agatha, Dr. Eusta, and Mathias, while they introduce me to eight people—the rest of my Advisors. They fill me in on procedure, traditions, expectations. . . . Thanks to Mom, I already have a basic understanding, but it’s still a lot to process.
In the afternoon, I join Mathias for our first Zodai lesson. We meet in a room filled with plushy mats, towels, and refreshments. Lola found me stretchy pants and an oversized shirt to wear for my training sessions.
Mathias is lying on his back on one of the mats, a strip of abs visible below the hemline of his shirt. Lola walks me to the threshold, and I catch her gaze straying to his bare skin before she leaves.
“First we’ll focus on refining your Centering technique,” says Mathias, once we’re alone. He sits upright. “I think the best way will be using Yarrot.”
I swallow, hard. “Yarrot doesn’t work for me.” He freezes, and we do that thing where we shut up and stare. After watching for so many years, we’re each still a complete mystery to the other—but we don’t ask those questions yet.
Looking into his eyes, I wonder what he sees. Sometimes the blue grows so soft when he’s watching me that I think he might care. Other times, like now, the indigo darkens, and I feel like all he sees is a little girl in grown-up shoes.
He rises to his feet. “I used to practice every day on Elara.”
“I remember.”
This time the stare is more familiar. As if beyond being Guardian and Guide, we could also be those two people who watched each other grow from afar—only now brought together, forced to grow up even faster.
“Maybe we could try one or two poses,” I cede, shrugging as if each movement won’t be a knife slicing my chest. Then I sit on the other mat and slip off my shoes.