7 Would You Bow if I Asked it of You
Would You Bow if I Asked it of You
Night-shift plant workers on break stood smoking outside growling factories.
One man shouted suggestively at Temmi. She threw up her middle finger and started walking.
But as she trudged along, relief wasn’t the emotion she found taking up residence in her chest. Instead, she was graced with a cloying, sinking emptiness.
Absurd laughter boiled up her throat. She’d been offered the kind of opportunity that billions of other women would’ve literally killed for, by Prince Nix Expani himself, and she’d turned it down to come back here . Absurd didn’t begin to cover it.
It’s Nicky.
Why couldn’t she get his voice out of her head?
She hated him. Perhaps not in a personal sense—she didn’t know him well enough for that—but on principle.
Him and his sister both. And anyone else who represented the empire’s oppressive regime.
Distaste for Expan was an unspoken, common sentiment in X72-1.
A casual, impotent Fuck those guys , after getting four shots deep with cheap liquor; a sense of passive solidarity when walking by anti-imperial graffiti sprayed on the side of a moldering building.
Not something you would ever act on; after all, the empire was the empire would always be the empire, no point in fighting reality.
That, and there seemed to exist a deep hypocrisy in most X-ers; as much as they blamed the hardship of their lives on Expan, they simultaneously loved the empire, were obsessed with Expanese culture, holovision shows and films, whatever fashion trends wended their way across multiple solar systems to settle in the dust of their grimy streets.
Ollie was a perfect example of the common X-er: willing to criticize Expan in a theoretical sense but, in practice, participating in the delights the empire offered.
Temmi could trace her own disdain for Expan to the first years after her father left.
She’d conflated him with the empire, what with his Expanese blood.
She’d hated him, and so, it was an easy leap to hating the empire.
It gave an easy target for all the impotent rage she had pent up inside.
Not that she would ever do anything with that rage.
After all, two years before, she would’ve happily taken the Prince Nix Alliance Scholarship herself.
It’s Nicky .
She was exhausted, nothing more. Dating shows were inane. No one found love on them. Love wasn’t real. At least, not in a world where people struggled for power like the one Temmi existed in.
When she reached her apartment, she paused before entering.
A new eviction flimsy was tacked to the front door, three older notices behind it.
She felt like she’d been drowning her entire life and anytime she let herself believe, for half a second, that she might reach solid ground, something else came along to thrust her back underwater.
With a sigh, she unlocked the door and slipped quietly inside. Only to find that Ollie and her mother were wide awake. And very much not alone.
Princess Spie Expani rose from Temmi’s armchair. Spie Expani. In Temmi’s shitty apartment. And Temmi had thought she’d reached the maximum allotment of shock a person could experience in a single day.
“How’s it feel to be the luckiest bastard on the planet?
!” Ollie bellowed from the couch in rough but passable Expanese.
Next to him, their mother, so thin these days, a waif of her past self, breathed heavily.
She wore an oxygen mask, the accompanying tank on her lap, unmistakable concern on her weathered face.
Temmi’s gut twisted. Innis Ialan hated having strangers in her home.
“I—”
“ Love Galaxy, Tem!” Ollie continued, voice cracking. “You’ve been cast?! You , of all people, are going to be on Love Galaxy .” He laughed so hard, tears began streaming from his eyes. “Somebody pinch me!”
Temmi glanced around the living room. Kalvin was there, standing primly beside the open kitchen door.
On either side of him were two silver-visored guards.
A third guard stood behind the princess.
Were there more guards outside? Temmi didn’t remember seeing any.
But then, she hadn’t been paying much attention.
Surely, the imperial starship was poised to blast Temmi’s home off the face of the planet should it come to it.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Ollie’s expression dimmed. He must’ve noticed the alarm on Temmi’s face. “Tem, you okay?” he whispered, switching to X-er. A language Temmi was confident Spie Expani and her armored entourage couldn’t understand.
“I’m, uh—” Temmi flicked her gaze to the princess.
She’d exchanged her impractical dress for a regal suit of white pants with a cutting blazer, her dark hair tumbling elegantly down her back.
She held herself tall, head high, like someone who’d never had to bear anything more than the empty weight of air on her shoulders.
Should Temmi bow? She hadn’t bowed to Nix. No one had asked her to bow—scratch that; across the cluttered living space, Kalvin was mouthing something that looked a whole lot like the Expanese word for bow .
Temmi remembered the server on the starship. But something in her refused to bend before this woman. So, she inclined her head a few degrees, more an acknowledgment than a bow, but the best her pride was willing to part with.
A smirk played on the other woman’s lips. “How delightful that we get to meet twice in one day.”
“Speak for yourself,” Temmi said, then bent to strip off her boots. “What are you doing here? I already told your brother I’m not doing the show.”
“You never gave Nicky a chance to tell you the good news,” Spie said.
She smiled a guileless smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
It felt practiced. Calculated. “To provide for a more equitable playing field amongst this season’s contestants, the imperial treasury is providing financial-needs grants.
It’ll cover your travel to and from the Prop as well as clothing expenses.
Consider it a free roundtrip vacation across the empire.
” She spoke with an edge of formality that hadn’t existed during their exchange behind the dumpsters.
“Nice try.” Temmi sidestepped the princess to lean against the arm of the couch next to where Ollie sat. The living room was claustrophobic with so many bodies. “But no.”
Ollie looked sharply at Temmi. “You’re being dense, Tem. You’re doing the show if I have to force you to myself.”
Temmi put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not leaving you and Mom. I sold Have a Lung this morning. It’s enough to pay our back rent and then some.”
From Ollie’s other side, their mother watched them, her brow furrowed. She’d never learned the imperial tongue. Their father had always spoken X-er with her, though he’d drilled Expanese into his children. She must hate this.
“Miss Ialan,” Spie said, “a word? In private.”
“All due respect, Your Highness , but I need to sleep. There are thousands of other women who’d kill for the chance to date you and your brother, but I’m not one of them. And I could give you a list a light-year long as to why you don’t want me on your show.”
“Temmi!” Ollie exclaimed, then, in X-er, hissed, “What is wrong with you?”
“ All due respect , Miss Ialan, but it wasn’t a request.” The princess motioned toward the kitchen. The guard standing there moved aside. Another guard, the one closest to Temmi, stepped up beside her and settled a rough hand on her elbow. Temmi could practically feel Ollie stop breathing.
Temmi had never liked being told what to do. Already, she yearned for the day when she’d never have to see an imperial heir again. Slipping her elbow from the guard’s grasp, she rounded the couch and begrudgingly entered the kitchen. The soft clicking of the princess’s heels followed behind her.
One of the guards closed the kitchen door, which Temmi and Ollie kept perpetually open for proper ventilation.
Dust rained from the force of it locking into place.
With the kitchen sealed, sudden claustrophobia clawed at Temmi’s throat.
She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for the other woman to speak.
Spie appeared to study the mess on the kitchen table, then ran a slender finger over the exposed end of an ancient battery cell. Temmi shivered. She didn’t like Spie touching her things.
“Do you fucking mind?”
“I didn’t think you were a trash collector in the literal sense.” The princess laughed softly to herself.
“What do you want?” There were no cameras there, no one to reprimand Temmi for her tone. Still, she knew she needed to be careful. But it was hard, and she was so damned exhausted.
“You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever called me a narcissist to my face before.” The formal edge to Spie’s tone dropped away as easily as an overcoat being shed. “I’ve no doubt it’s been said behind my back, but to my face?”
“I’m not sorry.”
“I wasn’t asking for an apology.”
“Then what the hell do you want?”
“My brother has taken a liking to you. And I’m starting to see why.” The princess stalked closer, trailing her fingers along the messy table. “Tell me, Miss Ialan, would you bow if I asked it of you? A proper bow?”
Temmi quickly found herself pinned against the kitchen counter; she had nowhere to back up. Still, she forced herself to meet those imperial eyes for the second time that day.
“No,” she said.
The princess cracked a smile—it felt genuine this time.
But it was fleeting and disappeared quickly.
“There’s defiance, and there’s stupidity.
If you’re going to survive reality holovision, then you need to learn the difference.
” She reached out and plucked one of Temmi’s unruly curls off her cheek, rubbing it between two regal fingers.
Her nails were painted a vivid pink. From this close, Temmi could make out the color of the princess’s eyes: a violet as light as wisteria.
Her black lashes curled on heavy, sultry lids.
Temmi’s lungs refused to inflate. “I’m not going on the show.”
“I know you don’t like me.” Spie dropped Temmi’s curl.
“I don’t care. I don’t need to be liked.
Particularly not by a stranger on a sad planet I’ll never step foot on again.
Insult me all day, Trash Girl. But don’t you dare hurt my brother.
You have one of your own. He’s adorable, your Ollie.
What would you do for him? What wouldn’t you do? ”
“I don’t—”
Spie put a finger to Temmi’s lips, silencing her.
“I’m not finished.” The princess’s skin was warm and soft.
“To answer your question from before, I’m not blind.
I see where you live. I saw the notice on your front door.
I’m not cruel enough to pity you for it—I’m not my mother.
But I see we have a common interest: protecting our brothers. ”
The finger fell off Temmi’s lips. “I’m here to propose a solution for both of us.
My Nicky wants you on the show. Your Ollie needs a roof over his head and money for university.
Not to mention your mother. When was the last time she had proper medical care?
You said you wouldn’t do the show for a million credits?
” Those violet eyes flashed. “How about two million?”
Temmi blanched. Went fully speechless for maybe the first time in her life.
“You’d need to sign a nondisclosure, of course.
It’d cause a scandal if the press got wind of the payout.
Financial-needs grants are one thing; compensation is another.
Something about undermining the integrity of the show, which is honestly laughable.
Still, an NDA it is. Of course, the money will only be yours if you’re able to please my brother. ”
At what was certainly a horrified expression from Temmi, Spie clarified with a half-laugh, “Oh, no, I don’t mean please in a sexual sense.
As far as that goes, only do what you’re comfortable with.
Though if you two do get along that well, please keep it to yourself; he is my brother, after all.
” She shuddered. “What I mean is don’t be an asshole to him.
I need a genuine, good-faith effort from you.
If he likes you and keeps you around until, oh, let’s say the final eight, for fairness’s sake, I’ll give you a million credits.
Make it to the final choosing ceremony, and you can have the second million.
And for as long as you’re on the show, I’ll finance your family’s expenses—including hiring a full-time caretaker for your mother, and top-of-the-line medical treatment.
You could never tell Nicky, of course. I want him to believe you changed your mind of your own volition, that you want to be on Love Galaxy for him .
He deserves that much. Tell him, or anyone else, and the money will go bye-bye. Do we have a deal?”
Temmi stared, open-mouthed, for what felt like a full minute.
While Nix’s beauty was an ache, Spie’s was a dangerous heat.
Temmi’s stomach fluttered confusingly. No, that was excitement.
Or maybe relief? One million credits—not to mention two—was enough money to finally make up for how she’d failed her family when she was fifteen.
How she’d continued to fail them since. Saying no would be impossible.
After all, what had Ollie said just that morning?
Shrimps would never evict a reality star.
Temmi met Spie’s burning gaze. “Where do I sign?”