25 Can You Keep Me Alive? #2
But if Temmi was being entirely honest with herself, the Pikliminian ambassador’s death wasn’t even the main driver of her panic. Which maybe made her a terrible person. But weren’t all people terrible deep down? Egotistical? Selfish? Love was a pointless distraction from that ultimate truth.
No . Ollie’s voice in her head, timid, shy, idealistic. His voice from childhood, before the factory stole his limbs and their father his heart. You would’ve abandoned me a long time ago if that were true.
Warm tears pricked Temmi’s eyes. She was a joke.
A punchline. One of these things is not like the others .
. . She imagined Scot Meridan watching last night’s footage, drinking with his physicist classmates and laughing as Temmi flubbed her introduction.
He’d done this to her. Turned her into a laughingstock, stolen from her the only thing that could’ve made her life mean something.
Anger flared hot and forcefully in her gut.
She reached beneath her flowy top to pull out her orrist basalt necklace, squeezing the burning stone between her palms. She hated Scot.
Hated this elitist university. Hated Expan’s unpolluted air.
The heat of her hatred was matched by the rock in her hands.
She understood then why X72’s governor had given her the necklace. It was more than a reminder of home; it represented the hate of her people. Their anger, their rage, their grief. The way Temmi saw it, she had three choices.
One, she could continue as she was, blundering her way to the finale, hoping not to end up dead like Kya, and use the riches Spie promised her to start a better life. It’d change a lot for Temmi and her family, but it would change nothing for X72.
Her second option was to leave now. Run from the humiliation, from the cover-up of Kya’s death, and give up on the promised wealth.
Start back at ground zero. Return to the way things had been.
The status quo may have been awful, but it was familiar.
She was ashamed to admit how badly that familiarity tempted her now.
Her mother, she had no doubt, would welcome her with open arms. Ollie would be disappointed, but he’d get over it.
But there was a third option. One she hadn’t previously considered.
Or, rather, hadn’t let herself consider.
Because it was dangerous and life-altering, and she was the last person in ten galaxies with the skills and know-how to accomplish it.
If she took option three, there’d be no going back to X72—or, at least, she’d only ever return as a visitor.
Cracking open her hands, she stared at the crimson rock between them.
The way it glowed, burned, promised a better future if only she was brave enough to take it.
She was tired of being a mouse in a maze.
Scooting out from beneath the sanitizing table, she stood up, returned her necklace to her neck, and squinted at her reflection in the wall mirror.
Her dyed blue X-er hair had gone frizzy at the temples and her eyeliner was smudged.
But her eyes gleamed brightly. She wiped them and squared her shoulders.
Scot Meridan might be laughing at her now, the talk-show hosts and the silent viewers across the empire might think her a brash, unconscionable idiot, but when this was all said and done, every last one of them would be bowing to her.
Tapping her CB to life, she made her first-ever bridge call.
Long seconds dragged into an interminable minute and then—
“Well, if it isn’t Trash Girl.” An image of Spie’s contemptuously beautiful face magicked into the air above Temmi’s wrist. In the background, the sky behind her was alight with the soft pink hues of sunset.
It illuminated a jagged landscape of red rock.
Spie appeared to be wearing nothing but a purple bra.
Droplets of water glistened along her collarbone.
“Are you alone?” Temmi asked, honestly a little surprised the princess had answered. She knew Spie was on her own date right now. And, by the looks of it, nowhere nearby. But Temmi had to say this, and she had to say it now, before the anger in her chest cooled to coals and she lost her nerve.
“No, I decided to answer your call with my mic on and the production crew filming.” Spie’s mouth twisted upward. “Of course I’m alone. I booked it partway down the trail and am currently freezing my hot ass off for you. Spill.”
“Our deal. I need to discuss the terms.”
“And you thought now, while we’re both on supervised dates, was the appropriate time?”
Fair enough. But Temmi barreled on. “What happens if I’m never sent home?”
“Excuse me?” Spie flicked a few strands of damp black hair over a slender but toned shoulder.
“One million credits if I keep your brother happy until the final eight. Two million if I make it to the finale. But what if I don’t stop there? What if I win?”
“Win? Trash Girl, what’s gotten into you? Nicky’s going to pick Cailin; we talked about this.”
“I didn’t bridge to discuss probabilities. What happens if I convince Nicky to pick me instead? Do I lose the money?”
Spie appeared to be shivering slightly. “Okay, I’ll play, but only because I’d love to see Cailin’s face when she loses.
If you marry my brother, you’ll have access to a lot more than two million credits.
” She turned her head and shouted, “Another minute!” Her holoimage turned back.
“Don’t tell me you’re falling for him. Is the date really going that well? ”
Temmi ignored the comment. “Will you keep paying my family’s expenses until I win?”
The princess emitted a long sigh. “I’m good for my word, Trash Girl. You want to play for the role of my sister-in-law, be my guest. I won’t let your adorable Ollie suffer for it. I might even be on board—you’d be good for Nicky.”
An unexpected smile twitched Temmi’s lips. “You remembered my brother’s name.”
“I—” Spie shrugged noncommittally. “I’m not a completely callous bitch.”
But Temmi noted the way her skin flushed slightly darker. The holoimage’s rendering was really quite excellent. To think that Spie Expani cared enough to remember Ollie’s name? It was strangely tender.
“Thank you,” Temmi whispered. There was no sarcasm in her words, no jibes. She was, admittedly, and not for the first time, grateful for Spie Expani.
A beat of charged silence passed through the transmission. Temmi’s stomach performed a soft little somersault.
“Right, well, my blood is probably halfway to ice in my veins by now. So—” The transmission cut, and the princess’s image disappeared.
Temmi was left staring at herself in the mirror. She was embarrassed at the goofy little smile that had overtaken her face. Doubly so at the warmth spreading through her chest.
“You don’t have feelings for Spie Expani,” she reprimanded her reflection, as though by saying the words aloud, she could make them true. “You can’t. You’re going to marry her brother.”
Before she could garner the courage to march out of the bathroom, she heard the door creak open. A voice called, deep and cool, “Ambassador Ialan?” Footsteps echoed lightly; the door clicked shut. Kalvin appeared. “Last night would’ve been a lot for anyone,” he said in a somewhat tentative voice.
“I’m fine.” Temmi stepped away from the mirror. “I just needed a breather. Have you”—Temmi glanced at the closed bathroom door—“found anything out? Cause of death? Any motives?”
An infinitesimal shake of his head. “I won’t be privy to the autopsy results. As for motives...His Highness paid Miss Ep-Kmin a fair amount of attention last night. I’m forced to consider the possibility of a contestant trying to eliminate her competition.”
Temmi felt her necklace burn against her chest. “Are you saying you think I could be the next target? Because Nix took me on the first date?”
“I’m saying that I’ll be watching carefully. I understand if you have reservations about staying on the show. But I feel I must encourage you to reconsider them. You could help us draw the culprit out.”
“Oh, I’m not leaving,” Temmi said. She walked up to Kalvin so they stood eye to eye. “Someone wants to kill me? Let them fucking try. I’m going to win this thing. Can you keep me alive long enough for that to happen?”
Other than a slight tightening at the corners of Kalvin’s eyes, his demeanor remained unimpeachable. “Of course.”
“Great.”
Temmi returned to the lab room. She let Justine fuss over her and reattach her mic.
Then she apologized to Nix, kissing him full on the mouth for the cameras, thinking, Love might not be real, but power is.
Let the empire make fun of her. Because once she was the imperial consort, she wouldn’t be a mouse in a maze; she’d be the person on the outside, tearing down the walls.
And once there, she could enact real change.
Get herself into Expan Central if she wanted.
Remake Have a Lung but better. Get real medical care for her mother.
Support Ollie in whatever future he wanted for himself.
As for X72, she could fight for better living conditions, better pay, find ways to purify the toxic air—she could do so much.
She just needed to survive long enough to make it happen.