Wandering Star: A Zodiac Novel by Romina Russell Page B

honey-colored eyes, also just waking up. “I’m Nova Ken,” she says, reaching out to trade the hand touch with me. As soon as our fists bump, she pulls hers back to stifle a yawn. “A-are you coming to Centaurion to fight the Marad?”
    “To help, if I can.”
    “Your Sagittarian friend who was spreading the word about the Thirteenth House—is she why you’re helping?”
    “She’s one of the reasons, yes.”
    Her honey gaze is so direct it’s like staring into Helios. “How did you convince her that Ophiuchus was real when you couldn’t convince the people in your own House?”
    “She trusts me.”
    When I first met Nishi at the Academy, I found the clipped, back-and-forth pace of her conversational style off-putting. I couldn’t believe the way she skipped small talk and went straight to satisfying her curiosity. But after getting to know some of the other Acolytes, I realized I preferred the purity of Nishi’s speech. It was a luxury, not having to wonder what was truly on someone’s mind.
    Nova looks ready to fire off more questions, so I steer her to safer topics. “Why were you on Capricorn?”
    “Conducting research in the Zodiax for my graduation project. My parents want me to stay there, but they’re not evacuating, so I’m joining them.”
    “I’m sorry,” I murmur. I’ll never forget what it felt like to witness the devastation of my home. That kind of horror stays with you.
    “I’m sorry for you, too. After everything that’s happened to you . . . if it were me, I’d have stopped helping by now.” Her brow dips quizzically. “Either you’re incredibly committed to converting the Houses to your Ophius cult”—she uses the Sagittarian word for Ophiuchus—“or you’ve been telling the truth all along, and now you’re risking your life again, even when it’s no longer expected of you.”
    I don’t say anything, and her honey eyes hold mine in their glow. “What scares me is I think you’re telling the truth . . . but I really wish you weren’t.”
    We stare at each other a moment longer, and then the shuttle’s automated voice cuts through the air.
“Prepare for landing.”
    I wake Aryll up, and then my body grows heavy as we cross the invisible barrier into Centaurion’s gravity. From this distance, the planet looks as if it’s infested with metallic insects: Every variety of aircraft is buzzing in and out of the atmosphere, swarming the surface with activity. It’s easy to see why Sagittarians are called the Zodiac’s wanderers—even from way out here, they look restless.
    “Good fortune, Rho,” says Nova when we land, steepling her fingertips and touching her forehead. I return the Sagittarian gesture, and as we rise to disembark, she surprises me by pressing a galactic gold coin into my palm. “And thank you.”
    She rushes off, and I pocket the money, shrugging at Aryll’s raised eyebrow. “It’s nothing,” I mumble, moved and humbled by Nova’s gift.
    It’s rare for people to carry coins anymore—nowadays they’re mostly used for off-the-books payments and bribes. For everything legal, we swipe our thumbprints, and the sum transfers from our accounts automatically. But for some Houses, galactic gold coins have taken up a symbolic significance.
    Capricorns collect currency from every galactic year to see how far into the past they can touch. The Geminin have dream wells where they toss a coin and make a wish, and Imaginarium-type technology shows them what the world would look like if that wish were to come true. Sagittarians use them literally, to pay people praise: If someone does something truly worth commending, they give her a coin. They call it a
fair trade
—exchanging gold for gold.
    “RHO!”
    At almost the exact moment Aryll and I step onto the crowded spaceport, I’m pulled into a body-binding hug. Nishi and I cling to each other, and I flash to Ferez’s story about Vecily and Datsby. My hold on her tightens as I remember I’ve come