I stiffen and look at him, and his ivory face grows pink as he goes on. “When I thought I lost you . . . that you’d never wake up . . . I guess I understand how it must have felt when you thought I was dead.”
I stare into his indigo eyes, and it feels like the first time since the Sumber that I’m truly seeing someone—or maybe it’s just the first time I’m letting someone see me.
“You’re my best friend,” he says, his gaze strong and steadfast. “And if you want to talk, I’m here. Anytime.”
13
AFTER A QUICK SHOWER IN the women’s locker room, I pull on the Veil collar I slipped into my pocket this morning and activate its invisibility.
Mathias’s heart-to-heart left me feeling raw, like a wound that was scabbing just got exposed, and I don’t want to risk running into anyone who might irritate it further. Especially since there’s more I need to do before tonight.
The entrance hall in the third fortress is hushed and riddled with semiprivate terminals where Zodai are sitting at screens and pulling up information. A massive wallscreen wraps around the upper half of the room; it’s divided into twelve sections, and news from every House is updating in real time. I flatten myself against the wall so that no one runs into me, and I scan the headlines.
The Piscene death count from the master’s Psyphoning is nearing half a million. There’s a chart showing a correlation: With every wave of Piscene deaths, the hole in the Dark Matter around Ophiuchus expands.
It seems the governments of every House are as divided as their citizens. Most don’t want to believe Crompton is the original Aquarius or that he’s going to usher in the end of the Zodiac. Capricorn’s Chroniclers have been citing the Axis more than ever, noting that this is exactly how the century-long civil wars started. The master is recreating our past—and without trust in each other, we’re doomed to repeat it.
I trail along the room’s perimeter and turn into the first passage I come across. Torches bracketed along the stone walls illuminate my way, and soon I reach a crossroads where the corridor splits in three. I pick a direction at random and keep going, until I come upon a lounge with couches and tables and food, where Zodai in different colored uniforms are meeting or snacking or napping.
I trace my way back to the crossroads, and this time I pick a different path. It ends in a set of open doors, where a pair of Majors stands guard. This must be where they keep the more sensitive information.
I close my eyes and reach down to the humming of the Barer’s electricity, and I mentally mold it into a bow. When I open my eyes, an arc of blue energy glows before me. I turn to make sure the passage behind me is empty, and then I fire a blast of electricity down the dark hall.
The blue ball of light blazes down the stone corridor, and the guards instantly raise their silver tasers to eye level and charge after the electric arrow.
I dart through the entryway they were protecting and enter a narrower stone passage. A series of doors line both walls, and I carefully crack open the first one. It’s an empty room of semiprivate terminals, like the ones in the entrance hall. Since no one else is in here, I sit down at a screen and try to pull up the menu—but a retinal scan is required.
Time to see how much power I actually have on this base.
I deactivate my invisibility collar and line my eye up with the scanner. A light flashes, fleetingly blinding me, then the screen dissolves into a navigational menu with headings like Tomorrow Party, Marad, and Ophiuchus. I click on the last one, and holographic surveillance footage beams out.
The Thirteenth Guardian is asleep in a bright white cell that looks just like the one Corinthe is in, with metallic sensors spaced out along his body. Metal cuffs wrap around not just his ankles, wrists, and neck, but also his waist, chest, and knees. A needle sticks out from his neck, hooked up to an IV, presumably what’s keeping him sedated.
My breathing stalls when I magnify his face. He’s young.
He doesn’t look a day over eighteen.
His hair is so black it’s like Dark Matter, and his skintone seems to shift from light to dark, like he’s not one shade but many. Its texture makes me think of snakeskin.
I click on the small map thumbnail, and a holographic rendering of The Bellow replaces the footage of a sleeping Ophiuchus. A red line outlines the path to his cell, and I take a moment to memorize it before shutting the screen down and returning to the main menu.
There’s nothing noteworthy under the Marad heading, but there are a number of updates for the Tomorrow Party. It looks like Hysan’s encrypted communications with Ezra have paid off because Zodai managed to track the Party to the Artistry Pride of House Leo. It’s the preferred destination for controversial figures in hiding, since artists are known to judge the least.
I close my eyes to review what I know. I have a general location for Nishi. I have access to Ophiuchus. And I have the perfect distraction.
I’m leaving for Leo tonight.
I shut down my terminal, and my Barer hand buzzes with static. I study the intricate designs etched into the metal rings, and I don’t feel the same initial distrust and disgust I had for the black pearl Scarab a few months ago. Now, having a weapon isn’t weakening but empowering—it’s the difference between dependence and independence.
I reactivate my Veil, and when I leave the room, a woman’s laugh floats down the stone passage. Recognizing the sound I instinctively and invisibly step up to the partly open doorway and peek inside.
My whole body hollows, and it feels like déjà vu.
Hysan is sitting on a bench in a small training space filled with outdated exercise machines. He’s in a pair of shorts and no shirt, and sweat gleams across the Ariean-worthy contours of his torso and arms, his chest rising and falling like he’s just finished an intense workout.
“Why won’t you train with the rest of us in the other Fort?” asks Skarlet, who’s also barely clothed, baring every single line and curve of her figure. She’s wearing shorts and an athletic bra made from some kind of Ariean sweat-absorbing workout fabric that’s so thin and skintight it might as well not be there.
“I was already here,” he says, his husky voice choppy from exertion. He stands up to grab a water bottle off a stone counter that juts from the wall and takes a swig.
“Is that really why?” Skarlet edges closer to him and leans into the counter. “See, I think you’re here because you’re afraid.”
Hysan sets the bottle down and arches an eyebrow. “Of?”
“Running into me.”
His lips hitch into his crooked smirk even as he takes a step back. “You don’t scare me, Major Thorne.”
“I know you’re tempted,” she says seductively, moving in close enough that Hysan’s shoulders touch the wall. “We used to have so much fun together.”
“Skar,” he says softly, his expression sobering, “I told you after the ball. I’m in love with her.”
I exhale and wait for my veins to flood with relief. . . . Instead, I find myself wondering how long his resistance will last.