27 A Good Sister Wouldn’t
A Good Sister Wouldn’t
B y the end of the third week of filming, Spie and Nicky had sent eight contestants home. Only sixteen homeworlds remained lit on the ballroom’s holographic ceiling display.
They were nearing the conclusion of the week’s final date, a group diplomacy challenge, also known as an endless day of cameras and angles and sweating under the unseasonably warm late-autumn sun.
Spie endured it all with what she considered to be rather admirable patience.
It wasn’t easy to sit with Nicky on the outskirts of the manor’s courtyard and pretend to be enthralled while the contestants chosen for this date each took a turn de-escalating the pretend threat of galactic war.
Thank the nebula for the pleasant and relaxing effect of expensive springweed.
Being mildly high did wonders for Spie’s ability to feign excitement.
The contestants were scored on their diplomatic success through a number of arbitrary measures.
Overall comportment, answers to posed questions, quality of interactions, and whether or not the diplomatic attempt ended in war.
The top six winners would have the privilege of spending the evening in a cocktail party with Nix and Spie.
The contestants were instructed to imagine themselves liaising with members of a brand-new alien species—like the Uiyoni, for example.
Though Spie knew with utmost certainty that no mention of the empire’s greatest rival would make it through post. The last thing her mother wanted was to remind viewers of the human-eating aliens amassing at their borders.
For the most part, the contestants handled the mock scenario well.
Arbora took second, having barely lost first place to Cailin Frederik—no surprises there.
Despite Spie’s dislike of the New Terran princess, even she had to admit Cailin was a competent negotiator.
Her law degree was, clearly, more than ornamental.
One surprise of the day was the tall blonde contestant, Rosaria Yune, who’d secured sixth place despite her underdog status as a fringe contestant. The woman was so amiable during negotiations, it would’ve been impossible not to accede to her demands.
Only the final contestant of the day managed to start a galactic war. Ten guesses who that was.
“Your ship is now under fire by enemy forces,” said Graham Grey, reading a holoprompter across the courtyard while facing Artemis. “Mission failed, Ambassador.”
A camera zoomed in on Trash Girl’s Oh, fuck expression.
“Cut!” Blessing Stone bellowed across the courtyard. “That’s a wrap for the group date. Producers, I need soundbites and interviews from the six winners and our greatest loser. We’ll film the winners’ cocktail party tomorrow at dusk.”
“I probably shouldn’t have told them to go fuck themselves, huh?” Trash Girl said, dodging two PAs pushing an equipment crate. She yanked her mic unceremoniously off.
Nicky stood and laughed. The smile splitting his face was almost carefree.
All thanks to Artemis Trash Girl Ialan. Spie couldn’t deny the tiniest twinge of jealousy.
Still, a small price to pay for her brother’s happiness.
She could swallow a lot more than a little jealousy to do right by him, couldn’t she?
“Generally speaking,” Nicky said, “telling one’s powerful enemy to...fornicate with themselves isn’t a proven diplomatic tactic.”
Artemis’s cheeks warmed to pink. Or maybe that was the result of having spent too long in the sun. Her gaze slid past Nicky to land on Spie. “My tolerance for assholes is admittedly very low.”
“You wouldn’t last a day in politics,” Spie said. There was something otherworldly about the way Artemis’s brown eyes glowed amber in the sunlight. Spie shivered pleasantly, unable to stop the airy feeling that rose in her chest. “Personally, though, your performance was my favorite.”
“Ignore my sister,” Nicky said, nudging Artemis with his shoulder.
He glanced at his CB. “Kal needs me for an interview, but I was thinking...” He lowered his voice.
“I want to see you again, away from all the cameras. Tomorrow morning before dawn? Manor library? We could revive our early-morning debates.”
“Yeah, I’d love to,” Artemis said without a second’s hesitation.
Spie tried not to think too much into it. Tried not to think about how, on paper, Artemis and Nicky were a solid match. They certainly had far more in common than Spie did with the trash collector.
Really, Spie should be congratulating herself for instigating such a great match for her brother. She was sister of the nebula-cursed year. If you didn’t count the fact that she’d lied to him, was continuing to lie to him, and, even now, was wondering how Artemis’s sunburnt skin might taste.
But I haven’t crossed any lines, Spie thought. Wanting isn’t a crime. Making friends with someone isn’t a crime. Sure, she and Trash Girl bridged every night, but their conversations were innocent (okay, maybe they were a tiny bit flirtatious).
The fact that Spie survived every grueling day of filming by imagining what she would message Artemis when night finally fell was irrelevant. Wouldn’t Nicky appreciate Spie being friendly with the girl he liked? Making her feel welcome?
Over the past few weeks, she’d been very careful on set not to give Artemis any attention—to keep their private comms private.
Which was exactly why, now that Nicky had left, Spie should too.
But neither Spie nor Artemis had moved. They stood together, close but not touching, in the shadow of a decorative pillar.
Artemis looked out at the organized chaos of milling crew members.
“You know, every morning, I wake up and tell myself that today will be the day I manage not to say something stupid on camera. And then I end up saying something worse than the day before. I’m sure Ollie finds it hilarious, but I doubt the rest of my planet is amused.
My mom probably can’t stomach watching.”
Spie sidled an inch closer to her, which was the opposite of what she should be doing.
She should be taking off before someone saw them talking and got the wrong impression.
“It’s hardly your fault when the producers are trying to goad you into it.
Did you not notice that your ‘diplomats’ were harsher than everyone else’s?
They’re setting you up. You should see the producer’s room—Blessing Stone is leaning hard into making you her villain, has a whole list of things she prompts your handler to ask you in an attempt to catch you saying something mean about the other contestants. ”
Trash Girl gave Spie a horrified look. Her sun-pinked cheeks flushed red. “And you’re just now telling me?”
“I assumed it was obvious? Viewers don’t just watch Love Galaxy to see people fall in love.
Love’s boring if there’s no drama. And right now, the fact that Nix is falling for the villain makes for compelling holovision.
That and pitting you and Cailin against one another.
Which is funny because, if she weren’t New Terra’s precious royalty, she’d make a much better villain.
Instead, production has to bend over backward to make a cut that has her looking like the perfect little wifey for my brother. ”
“So, you’re saying everyone hates me.”
“I’m saying you’ll be remembered. Which isn’t a bad thing.”
But Spie could tell her words were doing little to reassure. Trash Girl had her bottom lip between her teeth and was aggressively chewing at the skin.
Spie leaned in. “What do you say we get out of here for a minute? There’s something I want to show you.”
Artemis glanced at her wrist. “Justine wants me for an interview after she finishes with Arbora.”
“That sounds like a Justine problem.” Spie placed her hand along the X-er’s right elbow. “Come on, before someone notices. See that path? Around the corner, it backs up to the woods. I’ll meet you there after I count to sixty.”
Artemis’s gaze dropped to Spie’s hand on her elbow, then flitted back up. Spie’s breath caught.
“Don’t be late,” Trash Girl said, then slipped away.
After counting to sixty, Spie shooed away an approaching PA and followed. Artemis stood at the start of the trail, adorably staring up at a towering pine in open wonderment.
Spie placed her hand along Artemis’s elbow to prompt her to move.
“I like to believe the forest has its own heart,” she said, guiding Artemis down the trail, away from any potentially prying eyes.
The temperature dipped a few degrees as they vanished inside the maw of green foliage.
“When I close my eyes, I swear I can feel the trees vibrating. It’s like music. ”
With her thumb, Spie caressed the soft skin of Artemis’s inner elbow.
She relished the hitch in Artemis’s semi-labored breathing, yearned to slide her hand down Artemis’s slender forearm, encircle her narrow wrist, fit their fingers together.
But that would be a betrayal of Nicky, and Spie couldn’t do that.
Is this not already a betrayal of Nicky?
Spie pulled her hand back to her side. This was innocent. Maybe, if she said the word innocent enough times, she could force it to be true.
Artemis dropped her gaze briefly to where Spie no longer touched her arm, then looked over her shoulder. “What if someone follows us?”
“Then they follow us. But we can make things a little more challenging for them.” Spie stepped abruptly off the trail and into a semi-dense thicket of pines. “Come on, Trash Girl!”
Artemis, ducking to avoid being smacked by a needle-laden branch, followed. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
Spie pranced through undergrowth and weaved around spindly pines, slowing periodically to ensure Artemis kept up with her. The X-er cursed darkly as she battled with branches and bushes and the occasional mosquito.