The little hairs on my arms tingle, reminding me of the cilia-like legs of the Strider. Then I wonder why I’m thinking of cilia now, when a five-year-long fantasy is coming to life: The beautiful boy I watched in the solarium is finally looking back.
When Mathias is in front of me, I grow leaden, like the centrifugal force anchoring my feet to the ground has doubled. I read his profile among the files Crius sent me: He’s twenty-two, and his family has served in the Royal Guard for seven generations. From the age of eight, he attended the Lykeion on House Aquarius, the Zodiac’s most famous prep school for future Zodai, and at the university on Elara, he graduated first in his class.
The humming of his Wave joins mine, and I wonder how many calls from the Psy he’s ignoring.
“You really make that crown shine,” he whispers, his throat so dry I can hear him swallow. He offers me his arm, and I think I might float away if I touch him.
I loop my hand through and realize I’ve been holding my breath. His face is so close that there’s nowhere to look but into his eyes, twin orbs ablaze with the blue light of Cancer. I try to remember why I dressed up, or why we’re going anywhere at all.
“We shouldn’t keep them waiting longer,” he murmurs, in a tone less assertive than his usual one. He gently guides me forward, and incredibly, my legs still work.
“Would”—I clear my voice of its roughness—“would you mind putting my Wave and the black opal in your pocket?” I hold out the two devices I don’t go anywhere without.
Mathias stuffs them in his suit, and we pick up speed down the hallway. I hold my coronet to keep it from slipping as we hurtle through passages, until we reach the double doors to the dining hall, which has been converted to host tonight’s ceremony. “You’re late!” says Admiral Crius, scowling.
Agatha hobbles up to me with her cane, her face alight with pleasure. “You look beautiful, Holy Mother.” Dr. Eusta just nods. It’s the first time he’s shown up in person instead of sending his hologram.
“Let’s get inside already,” barks Crius. “The Matriarchs are here, as are representatives from every House of the Zodiac.” Cancer is managed by the Matriarchy, the eldest Mothers of our twelve founding families. Crius points to Mathias. “Hang back with us. Let our Guardian walk ahead, alone.”
Before I can argue, the doors open to a collection of round tables, decked out in lavish fabrics and silverware, seating an array of vastly different people. Even though I’ve never met an Aquarian before, I recognize their representative by her glassy eyes, narrow face, and ivory skin. She’s sitting next to the representative from Scorpio—he’s thin and long-faced, and to his suit he’s added strange pieces of technology that are probably his own inventions. Some representatives couldn’t make it and are floating above the tables as visiting holo-ghosts.
Ghosts are holograms projected from too far away, and since their signals travel at lightspeed, there’s a time lag. They can’t hold normal conversations because they’re always a step or two behind, so they can be funny to watch. In this case, they’re just observing and not doing much.
Written across the air are the names of each House and the strength it brings to the Zodiac. Legend says that the first Guardians were actually Guardian Stars, each watching over its own constellation. When the Zodiac foresaw the first people arriving through Helios, each House gave up its Guardian, and the twelve stars fell to earth and became mortal.
Each brought with them the knowledge of a survival skill, so that our Houses would always have to work together, as equals, to ensure our galaxy’s eternal existence. They’re hovering over our heads:
Aries: Military
Taurus: Industry
Gemini: Imagination
Cancer: Nurture
Leo: Passion
Virgo: Sustenance
Libra: Justice
Scorpio: Innovation
Sagittarius: Curiosity
Capricorn: Wisdom
Aquarius: Philosophy
Pisces: Spirituality
I wonder what thirteenth survival skill Ophiuchus represented.
As soon as the crowd sees me, they rise to their feet and stare. I try not to think of how many eyes are on me by focusing on the floor and setting one foot in front of the other. When I get to the end of the room, there’s a long table behind which my remaining eight Advisors are standing. Admiral Crius rests a hand on my shoulder, and I stop moving. We pause at a sand basin filled with clear salt water.
Crius fills a crystal glass and raises it in the air. “Rhoma Grace, you are here to swear your life to House Cancer. If you make this solemn oath, you swear to place the lives of Cancer and the Cancrian people ahead of your own. You swear to be a Guiding Star of the Zodiac, to work alongside the Guardians of the Eleven Houses, and to always be a champion of House Cancer. Above all, you swear to do whatever it takes to ensure our galaxy’s survival.”