The Earl and the Executive

by Kai Butler

  He wrapped his hands around where his knees crossed and seemed lost in thought for a moment.

  “You think that his death might affect me in some way? Maybe whoever killed him will come after me?” Tiral asked, finally.

  “I thought you might want closure on your brother’s death,” Zev said. “And there was that strange conversation at the masquerade.”

  “You know, dashed if I haven’t had a similar one several times this season! Everyone seems worried about what my brother left behind.”

  “Or just one person is, and he has multiple agents,” Zev cautioned.

  “Well, now that’s sinister,” Tiral said. “I suppose I must find out now. Otherwise I’ll be stuck thinking every inquiring socialite has black motives. How do you propose we get to the bottom of it?”

  After a moment to process that we, Zev said, “Ovi’s found a pirate who says that he has more information, but he’ll only talk in person.”

  Zev avoided the topic of payment. It seemed unfair to burden Tiral with more money to be spent on the man who’d caused the downfall of his family. He hadn’t even thought of it explicitly; he just knew that he’d pay whatever the pirate asked in order to get Tiral the information he needed.

  “Well, that’s a blasted inconvenience,” Tiral said. “Where is he? The outer rim?”

  “Much closer,” Zev said. “He’s on Lus for the time being while his ship is repaired.”

  “There’s some good luck after all!” Tiral said. “Should we go now?”

  “No, no, Ovi’s setting up a meeting. I’ll send a message when it’s been arranged,” he said.

  “Ah,” Tiral said, and a sudden awkwardness settled over the two of them. It was clear that Tiral was also remembering all of the times that they’d been together and it had been… simple. The way that jokes had flowed between them, building to a crescendo of humor.

  “You look well,” Tiral said, finally. He was staring at Zev as though looking at a man he’d thought dead.

  “You as well,” Zev said. It was stretching the truth slightly. Tiral’s eyes had a look of tiredness about them and his skin had the pallor of one who spent too long up at night and ate too little. But when he looked at Zev, his eyes warmed, softening his expression. Zev wished he could see that expression on Tiral every day.

  “I’ve decided to let the estate go,” Tiral said, his voice quiet. He looked down at his knee and smiled at it, unhappily. “I couldn’t make myself live up to the ideals I hold so dear. My failing, I suppose.”

  “It’s no failing to choose your conscience over your duty,” Zev said. He’d known early on that Tiral would not be able to marry someone for money instead of love — it was written into his whole being — but he had believed that Rit offered him both.

  “More my heart than my conscience,” Tiral said. He held up a hand to forestall any comment on Zev’s part. “I put no responsibility on you, merely that I realized I could not live married to one I knew I didn’t love and who didn’t love me in return.”

  Unsure what to say, Zev nodded. He wanted to reach out and touch Tiral’s hand and assure him that he would be fine, but he knew that was, at best, a faint hope.

  “You’ll return to your university position?” Zev asked.

  “Yes, they’re expecting me to teach the fall session,” Tiral said. “I’ll push it back and begin in the winter, though; I want to make sure that the sale of the estate goes well.”

  “You’re selling?” Zev asked.

  “At least then we’ll have some control over whoever owns our legacy,” Tiral said. “Edah is looking through the list of interested people now.”

  “And Lady Edah? What will she do?” Zev asked.

  “Well, she’s threatened to come live with me in my university housing,” Tiral said wryly, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

  “That seems like it will result in some close quarters,” Zev said. “One of you will sleep in the bathtub?”

  “Oh no,” Tiral said. “I’ve been relegated to the couch already. I’ll fall asleep grading papers and wake to all the sounds of a well-born lady trying to make toast.”

  “The horror. I imagine a few fires?” Zev asked.

  “More than a few, I know. She’ll manage to burn every one of my good pans before she’ll accept banishment from the kitchen.” Tiral grinned to show his humor and Zev could imagine Tiral in the kitchen, having had to learn how to cook for himself after escaping to academia. How many pans must Tiral have burned before becoming good enough to have ‘good pans’? What did he cook in those prized possessions?

  He was caught up for a moment in their return to easy companionship, but he knew he should leave. His reluctance must have shown on his face, for Tiral sobered and said, “You’ll send word when I’m to meet the man?”

  “You?” Zev asked, surprised. “Us, I thought.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to trouble yourself any more than you already have,” Tiral said, waving a hand.

  “And I couldn’t live with myself if you were put in danger because of my information, so we’re at a bit of an impasse.” Zev leaned back. If Tiral had known him in his business life, he would have recognized the expression from meetings where someone found out that they were going to do exactly as the executive wanted, regardless of their own wishes and plans.

  “I don’t see why my safety is any of your concern,” Tiral said, slightly huffy. “I am an adult quite capable of making my own choices.”

  “As am I,” Zev said. “And I choose to come with you.”

  “Well, I suppose if you choose to do so,” Tiral said mildly. “Then I’ll see you when we have the meeting scheduled.”

  His tone made it seem like he was laughing at Zev, but not in a cruel way. More that he was amused by his very presence. It was a situation that Zev was unused to. The words had been as subtle a goodbye as Tiral could give, and Zev still wanted to push the boundary of propriety by staying.

  Instead, he stood and gave Tiral a short bow. When he left, he realized that despite the danger, he was looking forward to their next encounter.

  The next day was agony for Tiral. Although he tried to consume most of his time with managing the estate, he found his thoughts often drifted back to Zev’s surprise appearance.

  For a moment, when he’d entered the room, the expression on Zev’s face had been pure want and he’d been struck by his own answering desire. But then the look had been shuttered away behind a mask of easy formality. Tiral had found himself answering it with a butchery of the manners that had been drilled into him since birth. His old deportment instructor would have winced at how poorly he’d conducted himself. Not that Zev had seemed to notice.

  Tiral realized that he’d drifted off again, remembering the way Zev’s lips had parted slightly when he’d smiled.

  No, he reminded himself. He had no desire to fall down the rabbit hole of wanting what he could not have. His next encounter with Zev would be distant. There would be no need for them to be anything more than acquaintances.

  What he could not parse was why Zev had inserted himself into the situation in the first place. Tiral was grateful; the cause of Lecc’s death had not been weighing on him, but knowing that perhaps some foul play had been involved made Tiral all the more eager to know the truth of it. Although he had felt only mild affection for his brother, he couldn’t help but hope that this shed some light on why his brother had so wronged the estate in the first place.

  It was a thought that had been puzzling him since he’d found out about the mortgage. Lecc was many things, but careless with his own comfort was not one of them. He had to have known that the burden he’d put the estate under was untenable and would eventually need to be paid back.

  It also brought up his own curiosity over his encounters with strangers and their questions regarding Lecc’s worldly possessions.

  A chime brought his attention to his fob and he quickly skimmed the message from Zev. The meeting was on for that afternoon. Zev didn’
t reveal the address, instead asking Tiral to stop by his house before they left together. Shaking his head, Tiral was amused briefly by the idea that Zev thought that if given the address, Tiral would race off by himself into the nefarious clutches of some outer-rim pirate.

  With a sigh, Tiral realized that no new work would be accomplished with so much weighing on him. He’d be better off preparing as best he could for whatever was coming that afternoon. After some thought, he changed into one of his old Gretan outfits. Formal, dark, and, hopefully, unmemorable. He tried to imagine what Zev would say upon seeing him in what he’d often referred to as “widower clothes,” and hoped that at least he’d appreciate the subtlety. Then again, Zev often seemed to forget the appeal of subtlety when faced with Tiral looking anything less than his best.

  The hours ticked by. He stared at the accounts with eyes that weren’t really seeing much. A servant brought him his lunch tray and took it away when he’d mechanically consumed the meal. Before leaving, the man paused at the door, his whole body straining.

  Finally, he said awkwardly, “Do you need anything else, my lord?”

  Tiral looked up, surprised. It wasn’t common for servants to address him since he’d become a lord. He vaguely remembered that they weren’t supposed to, so he must have looked quite the sight if one seemed to be asking if he was alright.

  He straightened up and forced a small smile.

  “I’m fine, Crantet. Thank you.” His smile must have been less convincing than he’d hoped as the man’s frown deepened before he bowed his way out of the room.

  A few minutes before Zev had asked him to meet, Tiral called for the car and had the driver take him to Zev’s house. Approaching the large manor, Tiral wondered how he hadn’t realized earlier who Zev truly was. The house was set back in the hills so that it overlooked the entire city, and its front showed that it had more rooms than most country mansions did. It was not the sort of the house one lent to an employee, even a profitable one.

  Shaking his head at his own ignorance, he sent the driver away with a reassurance that he’d find his way back home. As he approached the front door, it was opened again by the woman who’d greeted him when he’d first come to the house. Her eyes were a deep red, almost ruby in color, and he realized that they must be augmentations. He smiled automatically under her intense scrutiny. She raised an eyebrow and he could feel the smile freeze on his face.

  “Mister Yuls is expecting me,” he said, finally.

  She nodded and opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He smiled again, lips tight. She left him waiting in the entryway, as though he were some common solicitor. He was just beginning to feel the awkwardness that he knew she intended him to feel when Zev appeared from a nearby doorway.

  “Tiral!” He stopped himself and said, “I mean, Lord Gret.”

  “Mister Yuls,” Tiral said agreeably. “Should we get on with it?”

  “Not so fast, my lord.” Zev’s smile was friendly but not intimate and Tiral tried to echo its distance.

  “Ah?” Tiral asked, confused.

  His expression must have shown it because Zev merely said, “I’m afraid Ovi has insisted on some rather extreme safety measures.”

  Zev nodded at the pale woman who had greeted Tiral at the door. She shook her head and inhaled slowly as though she was attempting to find patience.

  “Rather basic precautions,” she corrected mildly. Her tone was appropriate for a servant, but the expression on her face said that she thought her employer was being absurd.

  “Either way, if you’ll permit me?” Zev gestured back into the room, and Tiral followed him in, curious as to where all of this was going. The room was an office, a large chrome monstrosity of a desk taking up most of the space. Two chairs sat in front of the desk and a long couch stretched along the side wall. It looked like the type of thing someone would have so that they might sleep in the office rather than drag themselves upstairs.

  Tiral settled into one of the chairs and waited as Zev picked up and fussed with a couple of mysterious pieces of technology on his desk. He touched the desk and it came alive. Tiral realized it wasn’t merely a workplace, but one of the newest computers on the market. He stood to admire it.

  “Quite ingenious,” he judged, touching it experimentally.

  “You think so?” Zev asked, a smile almost hidden on his face as he continued to look down at the tech in his hands.

  “Very much so. More streamlined than its predecessors and the size means it keeps much of its memory local rather than on the cloud?” he asked. “Good for sensitive information. I’ve often worried that the right hacker would have all of my plans in an instant.”

  “Yes,” Zev said. “And encryption that limits every interaction depending on fingerprints and bio data.”

  “It’s a Laft Group design?” Tiral asked, assessing Zev’s pride.

  Zev nodded, hiding his pleased smile by making some adjustments to the screen. “I came up with the concept.”

  “Of course you did,” Tiral said. “And had a hand in the development?”

  “Only in a managerial role,” Zev demurred. “Here. Give me your fob.”

  Amused at Zev’s embarrassed topic change, he handed over the device, unhooking the chain from his waistcoat. He realized that it was the golden one that Yun had given him and wished he had thought to send it back. Such an expensive gift reminded him of all that he’d given up. Not for Zev, but for himself.

  Zev immediately used a small tool to pop off the back and began working on the interior. Tiral sat in one of the chairs, stretching forward to see what Zev was doing.

  “I… er, will have a fob when this is all over?” Tiral asked, concerned as Zev began to solder something into it.

  “Yes, yes,” Zev waved him off. “I’ll even buy you a brand new one if you want.”

  The offhand assurance only concerned Tiral more as he watched Zev snap it back together. “A tracking device?”

  “And a small recorder. It should be tuned to your voice, so as soon as you begin talking it will record until you tell it to stop.” Zev then picked up a smaller device and came around the desk. He dropped to his knees in front of Tiral and Tiral found himself sitting up completely straight, as though to distance himself from Zev with pure formality.

  Zev smelled amazing. His hair had been brushed back, and his eyes were like melted gold when they looked at him. Tiral licked his lips.

  Zev looked soft. Pliable. It was not a look that Tiral was used to seeing on Zev’s face. Tiral leaned forward a bit, as though a magnet had drawn him closer. Zev looked up at him, and Tiral couldn’t help brushing the blade of a finger over Zev’s cheek.

  Everything about Zev confused him. He wanted him so badly and his reasons for keeping his distance from Zev seemed absurd now. He had no inclination left to marry for money. There was nothing keeping him from enjoying the short time he had left here on Lus.

  He wanted Zev to want him in the same way, and knew that it didn’t matter if it wasn’t love for Zev. Tiral’s whole heart was held by Zev, and he would gladly hand over his body to him for the chance to feel on his skin what he felt in his heart.

  Zev stilled, and his eyes held Tiral's. He reached up with his other hand and covered Tiral’s hand where it rested on his cheek. He pulled it back a moment and pressed a gentle kiss into the cup of Tiral’s palm. The sensation made Tiral shiver, his whole body suddenly aware and aching.

  “Zev,” Tiral murmured. “I want you.”

  Closing his eyes, Zev exhaled sharply, his whole body tense. “I can’t promise you —”

  “I know.” Tiral didn’t wait to hear. He knew Zev wasn’t going to promise him love or even fidelity. He would settle for whatever Zev could give him. All his intentions before their meeting were for naught. He couldn’t deny his attraction. He was a planet orbiting Zev and he would settle for what he could have.

  “Tiral.” Zev reached up with both hands to pull him down and then his mouth was on Tiral’s
and every single synapse was firing at once. He was aching with desire.

  The door opened and Zev held tighter to Tiral’s collar, his hands making fists in the material. After a long moment, he pulled back. Tiral felt as though he’d been hit, his whole body aware of where Zev was touching his chest. He looked at the door, where Ovi stood glaring.

  “Did you get the bio tracker on?” she asked.

  Zev winced. “We were getting there.”

  She raised an eyebrow and Zev pulled Tiral’s collar down to expose a strip of skin. It felt cold after having been so warm. He pressed the small metal button to the base of Tiral’s neck and leaned back, with a satisfied look on his face.

  “It’ll let Ovi monitor us,” he said. “Our vitals and our location. It’ll be useful if things become difficult.”

  “How dangerous do you think this pirate is?” Tiral asked, confused. “Aren’t we meeting somewhere safe?”

  “I don’t think we are,” Zev said. “He wants us to meet him on The Last Resort.”

  “Where my brother was last seen,” Tiral said, his mouth suddenly dry. He understood now all the precautions that Zev was taking at Ovi's behest.

  “Yes,” Zev said shortly. “So we’ll have to be careful.”

  “Of course,” Tiral said. “Well, shall we?”

  20

  They had to take a public shuttle up to The Last Resort. Ovi had said that a private shuttle would attract too much attention.

  “You’d have to deal with everyone on the station from the dock master to the concierge before you even got through. They’d know you were there,” Ovi’s expression was dark, as though she was challenging Zev to counter her logic.

  So they began their trip in the public shuttle that left from the Lus docks. Surrounded by laughing groups of friends, intimate couples, and a few solo gamblers, Zev had to admit that they stood out. Both of them were serious, and Tiral — who was dressed like a widower — kept throwing him concerned glances.

  They had not had a chance to talk about what had happened in the library, since Ovi had driven them to the station and now they were surrounded by strangers. Getting to the front of the ticket line, Zev said, “One private cabin.”