by Kai Butler
Rubbing at his eyes, Tiral banished the fantasy and stood, heading towards his closet. His valet appeared at his side and helped him into a morning suit that showed off more of his figure than he was comfortable with. He knew that if Zev was there, his eyes would have traced scalding lines across the fit of the breeches, the width of his shoulders.
He grimaced into the mirror and let the valet tie his neckcloth.
“Is breakfast ready?” he asked.
“The cook’s been up since before first light, m’lord, getting everything ready for Lady Gret and Lady Edah,” his valet responded. “Would you like me to see if it’s set out yet?”
“No, no,” Tiral said, waving his hand. “Don’t bother. I’ll check myself. I’m sure you’ve other duties to attend to.”
He took the stairs down to the entryway and smiled when he heard someone ring the bell. Masub opened it before the chime stopped, and Tiral found himself with an armful of his sister, who began talking rapidly, her gaze flickering around the entryway.
“Tiral!” she exclaimed. “You’ve no idea, the journey was positively ghastly. We were forced to travel nearly around the whole system — the driver said the lanes had been taken down for maintenance. We stopped at the most appalling inn, and there wasn’t a private room, so Mother insisted we eat in the flyer. I wasn’t even allowed to stretch my legs.”
“Sounds trying,” Tiral said. He released his sister. “Are you alright?”
“Of course I am,” she sighed. “Just tired. Travel always brings out the worst in me. It’s why I’ve never come to a season since Father dragged us here years ago.”
Murmuring his sympathy, he looked back to the door where he saw his mother standing, hands clasped formally in front of her. With an awkward bow, Tiral greeted her. “Mother.”
She extended her hand to him, and he stepped forward to kiss it. When he rose, she gripped his hand tightly and cupped his cheek in her free hand.
“Tiral,” she said. “You look tired.”
“Had a rough night of sleep,” he admitted. “Nothing to worry about.”
She nodded and released him, stepping forward into the entryway as footmen streamed around her, bringing in their bags. Tiral raised an eyebrow at the number.
“Moving to Lus permanently, then?” he asked Edah.
“Don’t tease, I had to dig out every formal gown I own just to find one that fit. Mother insisted we bring all of them so that we can have them altered here,” she said. “I don’t know what the fuss is about. I won’t be attending any balls.”
“Edah,” their mother said quietly. Both Tiral and Edah turned to her. Tiral was aware of the awkwardness that hindered his tongue and saw a flush paint Edah’s cheeks. “Is there breakfast? After such a long journey, I find myself peckish.”
“Of course,” Tiral said, gesturing to the dining room. He opened the door for her and allowed her to enter first.
The cook had done more than he’d expected. The sideboard had enough eggs and pastries for an army. Fruit had been carved to look like flowers and small animals, and a swan made of strawberry decorated a platter of bacon.
“Lovely,” their mother said, sitting down at the head of the table. Tiral quickly made a plate for her, waving off the hovering footman. Edah followed behind him, taking her own choice of meats and breads. She raised an eyebrow when he carefully placed one of the carved melon flowers on their mother’s plate.
Tiral mock-glared at her and presented the plate to their mother, who took it with a murmur again at how talented the cook was. Tiral made his own plate and sat to her right, across from Edah.
After a moment of eating, their mother said, “Is the season going well?”
It was such a mild question, but Tiral heard the layers of meaning behind it. He winced and stabbed at a piece of hotcake with his fork. “There’s some upset that the Empress won’t be having any of her salons this season. But the weather has been exquisite and most of the parties end in a crush.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he sounded foolish. Now, both his mother and Edah were looking at him in some confusion. He sighed.
“The truth is that I haven’t made as much progress as I’d hoped. I’ve been to several garden parties and three balls,” he said, agreeing to himself that the masquerade had certainly counted. “And while I’ve made quite a few friends, I haven’t made any progress on finding a suitable match.”
He turned his eyes towards his plate, pushing around a small piece of bread with his fork. As the silence stretched on, he looked up to see his mother and sister having a silent conversation. Catching his gaze, Edah smiled quickly.
“I’m glad we are able to be here, then,” his mother said. “We should very much like to support you in your venture. I’ll contact some friends of mine and arrange some private dinners. Perhaps Edah could examine your wardrobe. She has a much younger eye than I do.”
The last was said with a small smile, and both Edah and Tiral rushed to reassure their mother that she was just as a la mode as ever. Their mother turned the conversation to easier topics, allowing them to discuss the estate in some detail before she stood. With Masub to guide her to her room, she left the two siblings alone at the table.
“What the devil —” Edah started, then glanced at the footman still standing against the wall.
“Thank you,” Tiral said to the man. “That will be all.”
With a proper bow, the footman left, closing the door behind him.
“Tiral!” Edah said. “What the devil was that? You’ve been here for weeks! You said you were working! And now I find that you’ve barely made any progress?”
Tiral’s cheeks flushed, and he shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth to avoid answering for a moment. The fatty morsel tasted uncomfortably greasy in his mouth, and he swallowed it after a long moment. Edah was still looking at him, her eyes sharper now.
“I’ve been studying,” he said finally.
“You’ve been studying,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing. She leaned forward in an unladylike manner and he winced as her dress got dangerously close to a piece of buttered toast left unattended. “What have you been studying?”
“How to court people,” he said quietly.
“You’ve been studying how to court people. Instead of practicing how to court people,” she said.
“I’ve been practicing as well,” Tiral said. He wanted to stand and insist they talk later, after his sister had rested and was, perhaps, in a better mood.
Her gaze kept him pinned in his seat and he waited for her verdict.
“I assume that this practicing has been on people Mother would find unsuitable,” Edah said. Tiral nodded, although if his mother knew he’d been practicing with one of the richest men in the galaxy, she would have been ecstatic. But Zev wasn’t the richest man in the galaxy, at least not in society’s eyes. In the ton’s gaze, Zev was merely a seasonal diversion who would never take more than time from his patrons.
“Don’t tell me — night flowers?” his sister whispered. “Or… a cat’s foot?”
“Edah!” Tiral said, finding himself scandalized. “Where did you learn that language?”
“Agriculture wasn’t all they taught at college!” she challenged him. “Or is all you learned aeromech engineering?”
“Well, I didn’t learn to talk like I grew up in Covey!” he exclaimed. “And no! No married men. No prostitutes.”
Sighing, Edah leaned back and looked at him. “Well, that’s a relief. I’d half-worried on the journey here we’d find you with someone completely unsuitable on the hook.”
“No, not at all,” he said. He tried to make his tone light and not infuse the words with the complicated feelings that roiled his chest. “I’ve made a friend of a Mister Yuls. He is on Lus every year during the season and he is rather good at making people fall in love with him. He’s been tutoring me in the art and by his estimation, I’ll make good progress yet.”
“Oh, Tiral, no,” E
dah said, shaking her head. He must not have been as tranquil as he hoped. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? Don’t deny it.”
Wincing, Tiral said, “Yes, but there’s nothing for it. He’s told me plainly he has no desire to marry, and I have need of funds.”
“So you won’t see him again?” Edah asked, insistent. “I can’t bear to see you become two star-crossed lovers when you admit there’s no future.”
“That’s a bit much,” Tiral said. “He’s a good man and he’s been a loyal friend. I have decided to put him out of my heart, but I won’t shun him now that I’ve gotten his help. That’d be shockingly uncivil, and I won’t have you suggest otherwise.”
“This will be that professor all over again,” Edah predicted. “You were hung up on him for weeks and nothing would bring you out of that funk.”
“I’m not so bad off as that,” Tiral said. “I’ve my head on straight, Edah. I know my duty.”
“Don’t you dare talk of duty and make me sound an absolute villain!” she said hotly. “If you came to me and said you’d fallen in love with him and wanted to marry him and he agreed, that would be a whole other matter. But you yourself said he has no desire for a ring. If you can’t be happy with him —”
“Yes, yes,” Tiral said, standing. “It’s so good to have your and mother’s support. I’m not sure how I survived so long without you.”
“Now you’re on the high ropes and I’ve positively made a hash of it,” Edah said, fisting her napkin fretfully. “I even made myself promise that if you’d fallen in love with some penniless, untitled gentleman, I’d be happy for you and release the estate without a single reproach.”
He realized that she was crying, her mouth trembling with every word. It was an unhappy reminder that as much as the estate weighed on him, it was not his burden alone. Edah was also dependent on it, and it had been their mother’s home for decades. He could always return to his teaching at Somnu, but there was no such recourse for either of them.
Pulling her into a hug, he reassured her, “I have not lost sight of my goal. I will find a match for myself, and then all this nonsense will be over and you can manage the estate as you will.”
With a gasping breath, Edah said, “Oh, Tiral, you’re far too good.”
“No, if I were that, then I’d have already found a match. Now, chin up. Go have a rest and we’ll talk more later.”
Stepping back, Edah said, “I just can’t stand the idea of you unhappy in a loveless marriage.”
“Now, don’t be silly. I’ll be fine,” he said, opening the doors. Masub was waiting nearby, and Tiral let some weight off his shoulders that a less loyal servant hadn’t been the one to hear his and Edah’s confrontation.
ral
Following Masub up the stairs, he saw Edah to her room and then continued to the small office Rexe was still using. She looked up, eyes wide, when he entered. He began to speak, but was put off by her raised hand as she finished typing a string of commands into SIM.
“Yes, my lord?” she asked, finally.
“I came to make sure that I had plenty of balls on my schedule for the next week,” he said.
A lock of brown hair had slipped loose of her chignon and Rexe tucked it back behind her ear with an irritated motion. A frown sat between her brows, giving the impression that the question had been expected, but not looked forward to.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’ve been in contact with Ovi, that’s Mister Yuls’s secretary, and she’s very… efficient. She’s corrected any errors SIM or I made.”
The purse of her mouth made it clear that she did not appreciate her work being questioned by a relative stranger. Tiral felt his shoulders relax and he took a seat.
“Good.” He clasped his hands together and took the tablet she offered him.
His schedule was packed. He was going to more parties and balls this week than he had since he’d gotten to Lus. His smile turned more towards a grimace but he made an agreeable noise.
“Ovi said that these were where most of the eligible bachelors would be,” Rexe said. “I’ve looked at historical guest lists and she seems to be right.”
The competitive tone was back and he could tell that it bothered her that Ovi was better at this than her. Her aggressive nature was one reason she would go far in their field. There was something to be said for it breeding innovation.
“Thank you,” he said. “I suppose I should sleep now while I still have the hours to do so.”
Twisting her mouth, Rexe said, “SIM and I have also created a list.”
She stopped, as though the words were enough to explain. He raised an eyebrow in confusion and waited to see if more information was forthcoming. When she stared at her keypad instead, he was forced to ask.
“A list?”
“We determined a list of the most eligible candidates. Rich, single, untitled,” Rexe said. “I shortened it to men near your age and used some algorithms to find men whose families had married for titles in the past.”
“Oh,” Tiral said, realizing now why her awkwardness seemed to take all passion out of her words. “A list.”
“Yes,” she said. “Do you want it?”
Taking the list would mean that he was now locked in. It was one thing to not have made any progress when he’d barely attended any balls and his goal had been to speak to gentlemen without making a fool of himself. With a list, there would be no more excuses such as a lack of information. He’d know who at a ball was his best chance and could ignore the rest.
By taking it, he would be more than a fortune-hunter in words; he would be one in reality. He would be looking for a man with fortune and he would have no problems finding one, because Rexe had already listed them.
“Yes,” he said, finally. “Please send it to me.”
Rexe nodded at her hands and glanced up at him.
“Your sister and mother are here?”
Tiral nodded, staring at his own hands. “Until this matter is settled.”
“You aren’t ever coming back to Somnu, are you?” Rexe asked. “If you manage to find a husband?”
“As a lord, I wouldn’t need a job,” he said. “But I would try to. I miss it. Certainly, I’d miss graduate students who need to be reminded to cite their work.”
Her mouth moved into an automatic smile, half-hearted and barely happy. “I guess it was a good deal to come here, if this is the last time you’ll edit anyone’s thesis.”
“You did get the job at a bargain,” Tiral said. “All you needed to do was learn more about society than you ever wanted to.”
“I'll list it on my CV as an academic achievement,” she said.
“I'm sure it will go well with the rest of your accomplishments. Able to schedule more balls than any other secretary.” The joke fell flat and he waited for her to tease him or accuse him of giving in too easily. He wanted her to remind him of the engine that he could sell or insist he invent a machine on the spot that would get him out of his predicament.
Her silence was the worst. It reminded him that there was no escape, because he'd made the decision to follow this path where it led.
“Thank you, Rexe,” he said.
As though she could hear his thoughts, she asked, “Will you at least finish the engine? Even if you don't plan to use it, it's almost complete and it could help a great many people.”
“I plan on it,” Tiral said. “After I've settled everything at the estate. Perhaps it will help me pay my husband back some of his… investment.”
“It would be an unkind husband to demand recompense for his dowry,” Rexe said. “I can’t imagine anyone would do such a thing.”
“Perhaps not.” Tiral shrugged.
Standing, he nodded at the list she still had pulled up on her larger screen and said, “Send it to me.”
She swiped her fingers and he felt his fob vibrate in his pocket. With a nod, he went back to his own rooms, shutting the door behind him. According to the schedule that Rexe had se
nt, he wasn’t expected anywhere until tomorrow. He had most of the afternoon to himself.
It was his last bit of independence. After this, he would need to move quickly when it came to courting and marrying a spouse. The idea felt more impossible now, though. Now, he knew what it felt like to have someone who would laugh at his jokes and support him. He knew what it felt like to be willing to give up his estate for one person.
Going from that dream of love to a marriage based on practicalities felt like asking him to breathe underwater; it felt impossible. But he knew that since he had no other options, he would merely have to grow gills and learn.
He chose a reading chair that had been placed near the window and looked out onto the street. There were a few morning walkers, a nanny with three children in tow, and a couple of men who looked like workers of some sort, laughing loudly as they walked.
Tiral wondered if any of them were as worried as he was about their future. Did any of them hold the futures of so many against the compromise of their heart? It was unworthy of him to be so unsure when the answer was clear. He would look at the list and marry one of those men.
He found his fingers touching his lips and remembered how gentle Zev’s kiss had been, how bright his eyes had been when he pulled away. For all that had been revealed afterwards, Tiral was still stuck on the moment of could-have-been. Shaking his head, he lowered his fingers and stared out the window.
There had been no sign of returned affection in Zev’s gaze, not even a hint of desire. Perhaps he was nothing more than a diversion during a boring season. Either way, he had to put Zev out of his mind. It was only fair to both of them.
No, he would choose one of the men on the list and then only be reminded of Zev when he read about the Laft Group in newsfeeds.
15
Sitting in the backseat of his car, Zev checked again that the flyer was ready for them at the docks. It was a unique one, a prototype that had proved to be less than marketable. It had been one of the first aeromech technologies that he’d helped design, back when the Laft Aeromech Division was first starting. He was proud of the little flyer, even though he agreed that the corporation never would have been able to make a profit selling them.