33 Loyalty to a Brother
Loyalty to a Brother
W hen Temmi returned to her own room, it was with a hollow ache in her chest. Spie had been right to send her away; she should’ve never been in the princess’s bedroom to begin with, should’ve stayed behind to think through her strategy for solving Rosaria and Kya’s murders.
Her current plan? Sneak into Cailin’s room somehow.
In their most recent meeting, Kalvin had reported finding nothing directly incriminating on the tapes. “There’s footage of Ambassador Frederik handing Ambassador Yune a drink, but nothing more,” he’d said, to which Temmi had wanted to smack him upside the head.
“So, you’re saying you have proof that Cailin gave Rosaria the poisoned drink that killed her and you think that’s not directly incriminating? That literally proves Cailin’s guilt!”
But Kalvin had remained unconvinced. “We have no way of knowing if the drink was poisoned,” he’d said.
Temmi needed to find more proof. If the drink had been poisoned, then Cailin must’ve done so before the cocktail party.
Did she have a stash of poison in her room?
Probably. Problem was, the New Terran princess had brokered extra security measures for herself; hers was the only room in the hall with a thumbprint-access keypad.
Temmi didn’t have the tools to open the keypad and override the locking system—she’d need Kalvin’s help to get in.
But he’d yet to agree with her on Cailin’s likely culpability.
“Late-night rendezvous?” Arbora asked from the other bed, voice husky with sleep.
“Uh-huh.” Temmi grabbed her earplugs, climbed into bed, and crawled beneath her covers.
But Arbora had apparently decided to wake up. “Were you with Nix?”
Temmi pretended not to hear, shoving her earplugs deep into her ear canals and squeezing her eyes shut.
But her earplugs did nothing to stop the fast, piercingly mournful notes of Spie’s violin song from echoing in her mind—she couldn’t stop seeing Spie’s chest rising and falling rapidly, her bow moving so quickly it was impossible to track, the sadness on her face humanizing her, cracking her carefree mask and showing the pain underneath.
Temmi’s earplugs did nothing to stop the way the memory of Spie kept overlaying the image of Kya splayed on the toilet, the feel of Rosaria’s fists wrapped in Temmi’s shirt as they both crashed into the water, the weightless moment when Rosaria finally let go, her body slipping away . . .
Temmi’s restless mind gnawed over memories like a starving animal with a bone:
The unsettling emptiness on Kya’s face.
The blood dribbling down Rosaria’s chin.
The water filling Temmi’s lungs, weighing her down, down, down—
Spie whispering Temmi’s full name like a prayer, a plea, like Temmi held within herself the capacity to free the princess of the Expan Empire from some invisible prison. The hot pressure of her long-fingered hand on Temmi’s knee. The warm tickle of her breath against Temmi’s lips.
You should leave.
If Spie hadn’t stopped them, Temmi wouldn’t have had the strength to do it herself.
She would’ve given everything she was to Spie Expani in that moment.
Even now, she knew, because she’d never been a good liar, not even to herself, that if the princess bridged her and asked her to come back, she’d rise like a puppet on strings and go.
Never mind there was a killer lurking somewhere. Never mind she was supposed to be dating Nicky. Never mind the simple fact that being with Spie Expani threatened every goal Temmi was risking her life to accomplish.
What would Ollie say? A ridiculous question. He’d find it romantic. But he’d also probably tell Temmi to stop being stupid. His voice echoed in her head: How are you simultaneously the smartest and dumbest person I’ve ever known?
· · ·
The next morning, Temmi spent thirty minutes in the library with Nicky.
She felt sick to her stomach with guilt for leading him on.
But also, it wasn’t as though she was faking their connection; sure, there was less physicality to it, but she genuinely enjoyed their time together.
If, in the end, he chose Temmi, she’d have to excise Spie from her life.
They couldn’t go on like they were—Temmi couldn’t do that to Nicky.
And she doubted Spie could, either. But for now, Temmi performed some good old-fashioned rationalization to ease her guilt—after all, wasn’t the whole point of the show to date both heirs?
Sure, she’d technically been brought on solely for Nicky, but he was dating a bunch of other contestants himself.
So, it was only fair. And it wasn’t as though Temmi and Spie had actually done anything.
Last night, Temmi absolutely would’ve, though.
An unhinged part of her, some selfish, masochistic little voice, said, So what? Couldn’t you marry Spie instead? She has just as much power as her brother. Even if she doesn’t become emperor, she’s still an Expani. What difference would it ultimately make?
The thought brought with it a sudden thrill. A jittery lightness in her chest.
Except it wasn’t possible. Because Spie would never choose Temmi. Not at the expense of her brother. Temmi understood that perfectly; loyalty to a brother was the one thing they shared in common. It was what had brought them together.
And what would keep them apart.
Nicky removed his glasses to rub at his eyes. All morning, he’d seemed more tired than normal, the pallor of his skin slightly wan, his teeth gritting, jaw grinding, like he was in pain.
“You okay?” Temmi asked, reaching over to grab his glasses from their shared window seat. She slid them onto her face and, when imme diately confronted with a disconcerting blurriness, pulled them right back off.
“Strong prescription, I know.”
Temmi returned his glasses to him. “You didn’t catch whatever Cailin’s got, did you? Rumor is she came back from your date with a cold last night.”
Nicky shook his head. “The set medic thinks she just has a little altitude sickness. What I have is—different. I’m— I get headaches sometimes. Part of my eye condition. Nothing really helps. Sorry—I’m usually better about hiding them.”
“Don’t apologize.” Temmi returned his glasses. “How often are you in pain?”
“I said I’m fine.”
“So, it’s chronic, then. Trust me, I’m an expert at listening to people in pain deny they’re in pain.
My mom’s an absolute pro. Though she does numb a lot with alcohol.
My brother tries to suffer alone. I think there’s an unofficial X-er law that says there must be an inverse relationship between how close you are with someone and how good they are at letting you in emotionally.
Which is all to say”—Temmi poked him in the knee—“that you’re not fine. ”
He choked out a laugh. Gave her a sidelong look. “I can bear it.”
“Just because you can bear something doesn’t mean you should have to.”
· · ·
After parting ways with Nix, Temmi made her way to one of the back stairwells. Kalvin had promised she could meet him on the northwestern rooftop terrace. She had about an hour before she needed to be in hair and makeup or face the combined wrath of Manny and Justine.
She was trudging up her third flight of stairs when she caught wind of a familiar voice. Low and urgent, coming from a private alcove on the fourth floor. Slowly, Temmi tiptoed up the stairs to better overhear.
“. . . you think I’m not taking this seriously?
Are you kidding me? Dust off, Jacks. You can dust all the way off.
I’m doing this for you, for— You act like it should be easy, putting myself back with her.
Getting her to— But it’s not easy, all right?
Is that what you want to hear? I would trade places with you in a heartbeat— I am being quiet! ”
Temmi froze, hand clenched around the banister. Without a doubt, the voice belonged to Arbora VinVanxin. Temmi had never heard the Moons contestant so uncomposed. It was a minor shock. And who the fuck was Jacks?
“That’s the whole problem!” Justine’s voice.
Wait? Justine ? “You shouldn’t be doing this for me .
How do you not get that? How can I trust you understand everything at stake if the whole reason you’re still here is because of me ?
I need you bought in all the way, and I worry what it means if you’re not.
It’s really important we get this right—”
“Don’t talk to me like that. I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? No one suspects a thing, least of all her. Just let me do what I came here to do.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Then I’ll find leverage. I’m playing it the way I think it needs to be played. That means slow right now. Just trust me for once? I know her better than you. I’ll win. You should go— Don’t you have some producer meeting to get to?”
And that was Temmi’s cue. She sprinted up the stairs, turned a sharp corner, and paused to catch her breath. After she was certain that both Arbora and Justine had disappeared in the opposite direction, she continued her ascent, her mind spinning.
Was Jacks a nickname for Justine ? And what had Arbora meant when she said I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? No one suspects a thing. No one suspects what?