43 A Chasm Between Brother and Sister
A Chasm Between Brother and Sister
T o complete her ensemble, Spie slipped amethyst earrings into her ear lobes.
They were the exact shade of her eyes—palest violet.
Her dress for this morning’s final call time was an elegant calf-length sheath, ivory-colored with embroidered vines of wisteria.
Her heels matched, the toes and stems studded with amethysts.
She looked beautiful, ethereal, distinguished.
Everything a princess was supposed to be.
She yearned to shatter her reflection with a dozen rocks.
Nicky appeared behind her, the mirror capturing his profile: drawn and mournful. Spie’s gut twisted painfully.
She turned. “I was wondering if you’d show.” They’d hardly spoken since Artemis’s arrest, each avoiding the other.
Promise me one thing, baby brother. Promise me that we come first, you and I.
He raised his gaze to hers. She saw her own pain reflected in his eyes.
“I heard a rumor from Captain Glossen’s second lieutenant,” he said.
“Story goes you were kissing her on the beach that night.” He braced one hand against her dresser, as though needing the support to remain upright.
“I was a fool to think—” He shook his head.
“You were paying her to be here. Actually paying her. Mother told me. She found out when Marta went through our CB histories as part of her investigation. Is your opinion of me so low that you thought you had to pay a girl to date me? I suppose I should thank you. It makes what has to happen today easier, knowing she never cared for me. Knowing you and her, that both of you—it makes today easier.”
Spie swallowed against the rise of bile in her throat.
Against her shame and her self-hatred and the knowledge that in so many concrete ways, this was all her fault.
This chasm that was opening between her and Nicky, between brother and sister.
Or maybe it had always been there, had been growing for years, and she was finally being honest with herself about its existence.
“It was a mistake.” She stepped toward him. “Artemis and I—it wouldn’t have happened again.”
“Yes, it would’ve.” Nicky pushed away from the dresser and stalked past her to stare out the half-open balcony door.
His hair was slightly wet, water droplets sliding down the back of his neck to dampen his shirt collar.
“You would’ve told me to marry her and then fucked her behind my back.
You would’ve made me into a fool.” His gloved hands balled into fists at his sides, the leather creaking.
“I daydreamed about her, you know. About telling Mother I was going to choose her and damn the consequences. I can’t believe you spent the entire show lying to me. ”
“You really think you have a right to act all angry and betrayed when you’re going to stand back and watch her die today?
” Spie loved her brother, she did, but the utter entitlement he was spewing!
She felt guilty for everything she’d done.
She deserved to feel guilty. She did betray him.
She did go behind his back. She did lie to him.
Would she have done it again? Maybe. Maybe not.
She would never know now. But Spie’s wrongs didn’t absolve Nicky of his own.
“You want to play the heartbroken little baby? Then stop the execution.” She exhaled, closing her eyes, and lowered her voice before reopening them. “Artemis doesn’t deserve to die.”
Nicky flipped around to face her. His nostrils flared.
“Mother was always right about you. You act like a child. You take what you want without thinking about the consequences. What do you know of sacrifice? Or love? You’ve had everything handed to you your entire life but still somehow manage to complain as though you know the meaning of suffering .
If you want something, you take it. Like you did with Temmi.
But don’t worry, Spie. After today, you’ll have fulfilled your obligations.
” His lips quivered in derision. “Go. Be free. Run away. I’ll stay like I always do.
I’ll hold this family together. This empire. Somebody has to.”
The urge to cry pressed at the back of Spie’s eyes, swelled in her throat, turned her chest into a war zone.
“You think you’re making some great sacrifice?
Turning yourself into a martyr?” Spie shouted so loud, she made her brother cringe.
“You’re angry at me because I what? Brought Temmi on the show?
Boo-fucking-hoo, Nicky. I didn’t even sleep with her!
It was one kiss. One. Gods and nebulas, you’re insufferable.
I’m the one who should be pissed at you!
You want to talk about lies? Betrayal? What about the fact that you knew who our real father was and never told me?
Our entire lives. What else don’t I know?
What else have you lied about? But no, by all means, go ahead and act the martyr so you can justify killing Temmi.
Murdering her. That’s what this is. Did you ever think that an emperor who can’t remain in power without murdering innocents doesn’t deserve to be in power at all? ”
He flinched back, eyes widening. “Careful, Spie.”
“Or what? You’ll tell Mother?” She snorted, turning away from him.
The mirror’s reflection showed brother and sister side by side.
Pristine exteriors, faces made up, hair done just so, matching ivory and violet formal wear.
The imperial prince and princess. Heirs to a galactic empire.
To more wealth and power than should exist, full stop.
But the mirror lacked the capacity to reflect the turmoil underneath, the severing threads of attachment between them.
The sorrow and anger in both their hearts.
“I truly am sorry,” she whispered at their reflections.
At the future she could already see unfolding—one of blood and broken promises and turned backs—but didn’t know how to stop.
“I shouldn’t have brought Temmi on the show the way I did.
And I shouldn’t have let myself catch feelings for her.
I convinced myself we could be friends, and I was wrong.
I would’ve done it, though. I would’ve cut myself off from her if you’d chosen to marry her.
I would’ve chosen Cailin. I would’ve been emperor for you.
I’ll still do all of it. Say that you’ll choose Temmi now, today, and I’ll never look at her again. ”
In the mirror, Nicky’s eyebrows drew together.
He sucked in a sharp, audible breath. “So, that’s your plan.
You know I have to choose first today. If I don’t pick Temmi, you will.
On the live broadcast.” He ran both hands through his hair.
“Spie, you can’t. She’s already been convicted; it’ll accomplish nothing.
Mother would never allow you to marry her. ”
“It’ll stop her execution today.” Spie had thought this through backward and forward and sideways.
She had no way of freeing Artemis from prison.
Nowhere to hide her even if she’d been able to break her out.
The only way Spie had any hope of saving Artemis’s life was by choosing her on the live broadcast. It would cause an uproar, would give the perception of imperial infighting, would prompt the opening of a second investigation.
An investigation that could put Nicky at risk.
“You might as well publicly announce that you disagree with her conviction. With the emperor’s judgment .
” Nicky took two measured steps back, as though appalled.
“That’s how your proclamation will be seen.
You’ll show the empire a divided imperial family.
People will exploit that. Exploit us. People will doubt she’s the killer. ”
Spie recognized the rattle of fear in his voice. Hated the way it twisted her gut into a knot. This had been an impossible decision, one she wasn’t certain she would ever forgive herself for. She met her brother’s gaze in the mirror.
“But Nicky, she isn’t the killer.”
Nicky’s mouth fell open, but a knock on her door prevented whatever words had been about to spill out.
Spie tore herself away from the mirror. Squaring her shoulders and plastering a smile on her face, she became the perfect princess for one final show.
She opened the door.
A new producer, some employee from Imperial Broadcast News’s corporate headquarters, stood on the other side, hopping anxiously from foot to foot.
He dropped into a rushed bow. “Your Highness! Are you ignoring your CB? You and your brother were supposed to be on set fifteen minutes ago. Her Excellency’s driver just bridged—she’ll be here in less than five minutes. ”
Spie blinked at the producer. What would it be like for your greatest stress to be whether or not filming went off without a hitch? “Breathe. We’ll be down straight away.”
She shut the door before he could formulate a response. When Spie turned, it was to find her brother still staring at her.
“You’ll choose Temmi over us?” His words were thrown knives. “You promised me you and I would always come first, but I guess that was a lie too.” He took one step toward her, hesitated, then looked away. “How many times can you betray me in a single month?”
Spie let the metaphorical knives tear into her gut, let them sink deep enough that she could live ten lifetimes and never heal, but didn’t let them keep her from standing straight. Because she wasn’t betraying Nicky. She was betraying the imperial prince, but she was doing right by her brother.
They were not one and the same.