“Everything’s quiet outside,” he announces when he sees us. “I think we’ll be safe for the night.”
Hysan and I are at opposite ends of the couch, pretending we’ve been watching the news. My pulse pounds so loudly in my head, I’m worried it will betray me when Mathias sits on the cushion between us. “Thanks for leaving me a key at the front desk,” he says to Hysan.
“No problem.”
“I would have been here sooner, but your jury made me recount our whole journey. They were . . . interesting.”
He places a bag of food on the table, and his elbow brushes mine—but I can’t meet his eyes. “They said I could enter because saving your life on Virgo instead of looking for Rho proved I trust only what I can touch. Then they advised me not to live life so literally.”
Hysan smiles indulgently. “Ah, they’re good kids,” he says, carrying over a carafe of water and three glasses from a corner table.
Mathias passes each of us a box of Cancrian rolls, probably from the village market, but I’m thinking of the warning Hysan’s jury gave me. “What did your good kids mean when they said, When we open our minds too wide, we risk closing them?”
“It’s a popular Libran line,” says Hysan, setting our drinks down on the crystal table. “It means even open-minded people can become narrow minded when they refuse to consider other arguments.”
Mathias bites into a sushi roll stuffed with crabmeat. “I’ve been thinking about where to go next. We shouldn’t linger on Phaetonis.” I feel his stare on the side of my head, and suddenly parched, I take a sip of water. “The largest Cancrian settlement is on House Gemini, which is where the embassy thinks your family might be.”
The muted screen on the wall shows images from the Plenum. There are shots of my Cancrian supporters, of the Scorps that heckled me, and then there I am. Looking like a little kid on a big stage, performing for a group of disappointed adults.
Ochus was right. I’m no threat to him, just as he predicted on our first meeting. After all, who’s better at reading the stars than a former star himself?
The reporter gives my full name, age, and status as an Academy Acolyte. Turns out I’m one of the youngest Guardians in centuries. Only the six-year-old Aquarian is younger, but his title is only symbolic because his regents do the actual work. On Aquarius, being Guardian is a birthright, so the lineage is determined by blood. Often, their House’s best star reader will actually be the Guardian’s senior Advisor and not the Guardian himself. Obviously, the reporter doesn’t know about Hysan.
Next the video shows soldiers throwing me out of the hippodrome. I glower at the screen, and a new thought stirs through my mind. “Rubidum said she was summoned to the Plenum days ago, before we even arrived.”
“Same with Neith.” Hysan spears a bite of crab with his chopsticks. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“You didn’t know your android would be here?” asks Mathias.
“Total surprise. Neith thought I was the one who summoned him. He’s very intelligent, but he can be naive. He didn’t think to consult me before he left for Aries.”
Mathias sets down his empty sushi box. “Why call so many Guardians to the Plenum?”
It sounds like something the same person who doctored Dr. Eusta’s appearance would do—Ochus. Who else could pull off such a massive forgery?
“At first, I thought he wanted to target us with one blow,” I say, continuing my inner thoughts aloud, “but that’s not it.”
“No, he would’ve struck by now,” agrees Hysan.
“Maybe Ochus wanted the Guardians to see Charon’s false evidence firsthand,” I muse, thinking back to my own decision to deliver my warning in person and not by hologram. “To match what I’m doing . . . you know, to really ruin my credibility.”
“Of course,” says Hysan, nodding, “he’s making his lies more believable. Trust Only What You Can Touch.”
I rub my head. “Ochus must have foreseen that I would come to the Plenum, and he wanted to discredit me. The only good news is he’s still afraid of me, at least enough to put some effort into defeating me, so there must be a move we can still make, something that still worries him. We just haven’t thought of it.”
“Your questioning way of getting around a problem is very Sagittarian,” says Hysan, following my reasoning so closely he’s abandoned his food.
I beam at him. “My best friend must’ve rubbed off on me.” Suddenly hungry for the first time all day, I take a bite of my Cancrian roll. The taste of fresh crab reminds me startlingly of Cancer, and I savor the meat’s buttery softness in my mouth, especially after so many compressed Space meals.
Mathias stands up and crosses to the balcony’s open doorway, looking out at the surrounding village. “We should get away from this place. Help our people back home.”