The Earl and the Executive

by Kai Butler

  “Much appreciated, Ovi,” he said. He followed her, grateful for the brisk pace she took.

  At the flyer bay, he waited as she spoke with one of the men, shifting from foot to foot. He startled when someone grabbed his elbow, spinning to see Zev.

  “Tiral,” Zev said. “I can cover the expense. I’m sure it won’t be long, and it cannot be that much —”

  “I will handle it,” Tiral said, interrupting. “Zev, I love you dearly, but this is a family matter now. I won’t go running to my lover at every thing that goes wrong. If I need to leave Lus, I’ll send word.”

  “I thought we might share this sort of burden,” Zev said, raising his hand to cup Tiral’s cheek. For a moment, Tiral leaned into the caress.

  “Perhaps with time,” Tiral said. “We’ve barely had time to learn anything about each other as lovers. I won’t be a leg-shackle, especially since you’ve so neatly avoided wedding bells.”

  “I said anything you need,” Zev said insistently. “Money, support… anything.”

  “I appreciate the thought, Zev, but this is a reality I must handle with my family,” Tiral said. “The estate is my own business. I love you, I’ll message you soon.”

  He stepped away, following Ovi to a small flyer that had a waiting pilot ready. He glanced at it, appreciating the sleek lines. It looked newer and probably would be fast enough that by the time he buckled himself in, they’d be halfway back to Lus. He shook the pilot’s hand, immediately forgetting the man’s name, and glanced behind him.

  Zev looked hurt, but Tiral was only able to offer a small wave as he got into his seat. He knew that Zev must have felt that Tiral’s rejection was unjust, but Tiral wasn’t sure what else to do. He wasn’t about to become some leech on the Laft fortune.

  The idea of marrying for money had been an equal exchange. His title and his estate married into someone else’s family in exchange for rescuing both. Taking money from Zev would simply be taking. As lovers all they had to offer each other was love and any physical comfort that came from that.

  The pilot was efficient, and Tiral saw stars before he even realized they’d pulled out of the hangar. The spread of space before him was a reminder of why he loved flying. Other than the unique puzzles that working on an engine provided him with, actual flight made his shoulders loosen.

  After a childhood spent buttoned up and contained by protocol, his family, and the expectations placed on him, flight provided him with an opportunity to truly be free. He was in love with that. He relaxed into the seat, enjoying the luxury of the craft. Once he got to Lus, he wouldn't have time to appreciate such small pleasures again, perhaps for many years.

  24

  Watching the flyer take off, Zev found himself at a loss. He’d been prepared to transfer the money to Tiral in that moment. The idea that Tiral wouldn’t accept his help felt confusing and left him somewhat flat-footed.

  Ovi moved back towards him slowly, clearly giving him time to come to terms with himself. She took her place silently beside him, observing the nearly empty hangar. A mechanic nearby worked on a larger flyer intended for group outings and the sounds of his tools on the floor were the only noise for some time.

  “Let me know as soon as Lord Gret contacts me,” Zev said finally. He nodded at her and stepped away, his hand reaching for his fob.

  He must have some work that had gotten piled up while he’d been with Tiral or during his rather embarrassing alcohol-infused week prior to seeing Tiral again. His mind flashed to the image of Tiral in his bed, the way that his lips had formed the words I love you.

  He’d seemed honest about it, as though he truly did love Zev. But if he did, why hadn’t he accepted Zev’s offer of money?

  The puzzle of it made him turn the interaction over and over in his mind. Tiral hadn’t seemed angry when he’d said that Zev hadn’t wanted marriage, and he hadn’t seemed offended at the offer of money. It couldn’t have been pride.

  And he’d been willing to share such financial vulnerability with a potential spouse.

  Perhaps that was it. The answer was so simple that it felt as though whatever had been knocked loose inside him at Tiral’s departure settled back into place. They weren’t married. It probably seemed to Tiral that by giving him money, Zev was changing the rules. He would be treating Tiral as no more than a courtesan. He would be paying Tiral and thus making him appropriate for sex and love, but not good enough to share a life with, not good enough to marry. Perhaps it had been pride. Tiral could not wish to live a demimonde life, in love with Zev but never his equal.

  The thought of it pulled Zev up short. He wasn’t sure what to do with the idea of only having part of Tiral’s life. It reminded him of the actress he’d been wooing before he’d ever met Tiral.

  She’d wanted him, and probably held some affection for him, but he would always be only half a person to her. Worth having in her bed, but needing to be secreted in through the servants' entrance of her building.

  Groaning, he looked around to realize he was almost back at his room. The idea of seeing those rumpled sheets — or more likely freshly laundered sheets, proof of some maid's diligence — left him cold and unhappy. He turned and headed towards his office instead, aware only then that Ovi had been following him at a discreet distance.

  “I will call you when I need you,” he snapped, passing her with long strides.

  “Of course, sir,” she said mildly.

  He ignored her censuring tone and found his way to his office. It was set up like most of his offices: the large screen desk, two chairs in front, and a couch to the side in case he fell asleep. It felt empty. With his recent confession of love, he’d hoped that they would have time — a whole week perhaps — to spend their days making love.

  Instead, he was back where he always was: at work.

  There was a blinking message on his desk, and he clicked on it when he saw the sender. It was a short missive from Nosre alerting him to some news about the company and then a short line at the end indicating that Ovi had told him of Zev’s kidnapping and that his brother would appreciate a call at Zev’s earliest convenience.

  Shaking his head, Zev keyed in the call.

  It was answered immediately, Nosre’s form filling a space on the desk in front of him.

  “Are you alright?” Nosre asked, abandoning their usual pleasantries.

  “I’m fine,” Zev said. “Not a scratch on me. I had to use the old turnball pitching technique that we learned as children, but other than my pride being damaged by the sorry state of my arm, I am uninjured.”

  “Turnball?” Nosre said, confused, but he shook his head. “What happened? How did you get involved with a criminal? Zev, this is what we pay people to deal with!”

  “And had it not involved the death of Lord Gret’s brother, I would have happily left it to one of our shadier employees,” Zev said. “However, Tiral wanted to speak with the pirate himself —”

  “Pirate —” Nosre huffed. “Ovi told me you were involved with Vee Ollir, who even I know is not someone you want to tangle with!”

  “In my defense, I only thought we were dealing with a pirate, not a notorious Lusan criminal,” Zev said. “We went to the pirate for information and then Ollir captured us after that.”

  Shaking his head, Nosre said, “Enough, you’ll have to give me a full recounting when we see each other next. Which will have to be soon. I do not trust your ideas about safety.”

  Happy to let the matter rest, Zev couldn’t help but ask for his brother's thoughts on the issues that had been plaguing him since Tiral had left.

  “Nosre, do you think that there’s some difference between marriage and taking a lover?”

  His eyes narrowed, Nosre said, “Of course. Don’t be daft. Aside from the legal and financial protections that marriage provides, most see marriage as coming into the family. A uniting of two houses.”

  “So if you were offered money and whatever you wanted to be someone’s lover, you wouldn’t trust the
m with Laft business?” Zev probed. “Even if they offered to help?”

  Raising an eyebrow, Nosre said, “Of course I wouldn’t trust anyone with Laft business! No matter what they offered. It’s for family only. As for money, well I don’t need money. That has no use to me, and even if I did need it, well… that makes it seem rather tawdry, don’t you think? Accepting money from a lover, like a common prostitute?”

  “But would you share information with a spouse? And money?”

  “Zev, where is this going?” Nosre asked sharply. “Did someone offer you money? All you have to do is refuse. It’s not that rude, if done correctly.”

  “No,” Zev snapped. “I offered Tiral money to help him through his financial difficulties and he refused. He said it was a family matter.”

  “Well, it is,” Nosre said. “That was very proper of him.”

  “But he knows I can afford it, and he said he loves me,” Zev said.

  “I imagine he does, but you are not married and don’t plan to tie the knot. It would be quite encroaching if he expected money and he probably feels no desire to ask for it, as you’ve no more ties to each other than you did to any of your other lovers,” Nosre said. “He sounds reasonable about the whole thing.”

  “I never said I loved any of my others!” Zev snapped.

  “Well, that’s a shame,” Nosre said. “Quite sad to not have loved a single other paramour. If you want to share in his life, then just marry the man. I’m sure he won’t mind, if he loves you. He was willing to marry that Rit fellow, wasn’t he?”

  “No, he wasn’t, which is why he agreed to be my lover,” Zev said.

  “Well, I imagine he wanted more than love initially at least,” Nosre said. “I’ve looked into him and he’s quite a stodgy fellow, don’t you think? Comes from a whole line of people who have married each other.”

  “I won’t be bullied into marriage,” Zev said defensively. “Not by you or him!”

  “Is he bullying you into marriage?” Nosre asked. “It sounds to me more like he’s treating you as a lover and not as the husband you want to be treated as. I don’t see what the big issue is anyhow. I’ve told you several times that marriage would be excellent for you.”

  “You’re being absurd,” Zev said. “He and I just discussed why I can’t marry him.”

  “Because of that traumatic incident in your past?” Nosre asked. “You surprise me. You never want to talk about it. What did he say? He didn’t mock you for it, did he?”

  “Of course not!” Zev said, offended on Tiral's behalf. “He was quite kind about the whole matter and he said that he understood.”

  “I’m sure he does. You’re generally clear in your explanations of events.”

  Zev looked at his brother sharply, but Nosre’s expression was so bland that it was impossible to tell if he was mocking Zev or not.

  “I mean that he said he understood my reasoning for not wishing to marry after such an experience.”

  Nodding, Nosre said, “Well, he does know you well, then. If he can understand your logic for that, then good for him. It seems that he will make the perfect lover. He’ll have to work full-time now, at that university. If he doesn’t need to take on extra work because of any debts. I imagine that you’ll like having a lover who’s as busy as you. You’ll be able to drop by when you have a free moment and… well, I’m sure he’ll make time for you.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Zev said, “I’m not sure I understand your point.”

  “Just that I’m sure this will be a smashing arrangement. Will put a bit more pressure on me from mother, thanks for that!” Nosre made a small face and said, “And having a lover as busy as you means that he likely won’t think of you any more than you think of him.”

  “I think of him all the time!” Zev snapped. “He’s a constant on my mind! I was sick when I thought he might marry Rit.”

  “Were you?” Nosre asked curiously.

  “I was! The idea that he’d find another makes me ill! I can’t stand the idea of him meeting someone at the university — probably some other professor. Someone he can see more often. And they’d probably be willing to marry him. He’s got such a brilliant mind. And where would I be? At work on Viga,” Zev spat. The image was too clear.

  Away from the glittering lights of Lus, without Zev’s presence to remind him why he loved him, without Zev there to help him…. Would the blush fade from the rose? Would Tiral give him up that easily after declaring he loved him?

  “I’m sure distance will make the heart grow fonder,” Nosre said, his voice seeming to come from afar.

  “Or distance will make the heart forget,” Zev said miserably. “And I’ll be left alone, and in love with someone who’s married to some other professor.”

  “Oh, I’m sure if he said he loves you, he won’t be that callous,” Nosre assured him. “Of course, perhaps you’ll get so busy that you’ll forget him. I’m sure he won’t seem so attractive once you’re back to sleeping in your office and ignoring the perfectly nice bed that your maids make every morning.”

  “I need to go,” Zev growled. “We’ll have to catch up later.”

  “All right,” Nosre said agreeably. “Give my best to Lord Gret, and if you see his secretary tell her that I have received her criticisms in writing and will return my own in kind.”

  Waving away the call, Zev tried calling Tiral directly but was repeatedly put through to the message service. In frustration, he opened a line to Tiral’s house on Lus. The serious butler answered, his expression surprised at the sight of Zev’s face.

  “Mister Yuls,” the man said.

  “Yes, yes. Can you please tell Lord Gret that I’m calling?” Zev snapped.

  “Unfortunately, sir, I just forwarded his message to you. He, Lady Gret, and Lady Edah have decided to return immediately to the estate. I believe that they were able to hire a ship that left almost as soon as they had finished packing.” The butler bowed his head. “I’m not sure of their communication details while traveling, but I’m sure if you leave a message at the estate, he’ll see it when he arrives.”

  Irritated, Zev said, “Thank you.”

  He turned off the call before he could say anything ill-advised and, after a long pause, he stood and walked to the bridge. The hallways were mostly deserted. The staff that was kept constantly on hand was minimal. Whenever he was ready to travel, Ovi always magicked a full contingent of servants out of somewhere and she clearly hadn’t had time in the rush to rescue Tiral and him.

  Reaching the bridge, he pursed his lips and hoped that he looked calmer than he felt. Wincing a smile, he opened the door and stepped through. The captain had been speaking with the navigator and both looked up when he entered.

  “Sir!” the captain said, his eyebrows drawn together.

  “Are the police still attached?” Zev asked.

  “No sir, they left about an hour ago. Miss Ovi directed us to head back to the port at Lus.”

  “Ignore that order,” Zev said. “We’re going to Gret. As soon as we can.”

  “Of course, sir,” the captain said. He turned to the navigator, who had already pulled up the appropriate charts.

  Now, Zev thought, he just had to decide what to say when he got to Gret.

  The ride from Lus had been blessedly short. That was about all that Tiral could say for the experience, as most of it had been spent trying to answer impossible questions from his mother, trying to understand Edah’s long-winded explanations of agricultural processes that might help stretch their remaining capital a bit further, or talking on the jerky, broken interstellar line with Renn about anything they could do short of selling the estate.

  He’d been surprised not to see a communication from Zev waiting for him on Gret, but he understood that Zev had likely taken his abrupt departure as a rejection of sorts. With a sigh, he realized that he’d have to deal with that at some point as well.

  During the trip, Edah had been tactfully curious about his experience aboard The Last
Resort. When he’d admitted that he and Zev had come to an understanding, her excitement had been tempered by the reality that Zev was not with them, and any understanding came without a ring or even the possibility of marriage. She’d been understandably sympathetic, but there was little that she could say that he hadn’t already told himself in his head.

  It would be enough, just to love Zev. They would be happy. With time, they would develop an intimacy equal to that of a good marriage, and once this whole estate business was settled, he wasn’t going to need a ring anyway.

  His assurances to himself almost satisfied him. He loved Zev, and he wanted Zev with him on Gret. He wanted him to know everything about his life, both on Gret and on Somnu. The knowledge that Zev didn’t yet know him that intimately and that they would each return to their separate lives hurt. They’d have time, he assured himself, and many couples lived separately anyway. Even some married couples lived apart, if both had their own duties or if they only came out together when social custom demanded it.

  Tiral began sorting through the various folders of paperwork that had accumulated on his personal server during their trip, when he’d been hindered by poor signals and low bandwidth. Looking up from the downloads to the window, he saw the estate spread out. The flowers were all in bloom, a rainbow of colors that spoke to the capabilities of his gardeners. In a few weeks, after he’d let the men go, it would likely look overrun and wild.

  Beyond, he could see a hint of farmland and the glints of metal machines that did most of the hard labor. He’d always loved the estate. The land was something his whole family was able to take pride in, and the people who worked it were just as proud of their homes.

  A fleeting thought crossed his mind: he could have been a very good earl. He’d spent far more time at the estate than Lecc ever had and he knew most of its issues with a familiarity that felt as though he’d memorized them. Shaking his head, he tossed aside the daydream. With the debt, there was no chance of that fantasy ever coming to anything more.