Collision of Worlds - Chapter 10

Oliver was bored.

It wasn’t that he disliked the party at the Cortet family estate. The women were beautiful in their flowing, multicolored dresses and the men were dignified in well-cut business suits. The conversation was pleasant and mild with a lot of fake smiling and giggles.

The music was traditional and light and carried by excellent acoustics and speakers. The banquet was both simple and elegant. Free-floating chandeliers bathed the guests in a soft glow. This was old money, Oliver knew. The kind of money that shamed his dreams and aspirations.

 There was nothing wrong with the decorations in the great dancing hall to make him so bored. It was just that all of the people were vapid simpletons. In fact, the most depressing part of the entire evening was the distinct lack of adversity.

He was accustomed to being invited to such gatherings and listening to people prattle on about how undeserving he and Jim were of their accolades and new station. That had been the norm for the past two years since they had been raised up.

And it made sense: Jim Crater was not a blood member of the Royal Family, so technically could not hold the position he’d been granted. They had adopted him, an archaic practice of adopting adults that hadn’t been used in hundreds of years, but it was never going to be enough for the other wealthy and important people to accept them.

For the lay people, Jim was like something out of a storybook. A civilian hero that had risen up to protect his people. It was all ridiculous, but the idea had caught ahold of the public imagination.

But, for the actual royalty, Jim and Oliver were an affront to their dignity, and they loved to discuss their displeasure through gritted teeth.

Oliver was used to taking the jibes in stride. He accepted each offense with one crafted pleasantry or another. Usually, after suffering through a few hours of offensive idiots, he would be left to his own devices at the party to eat their food and drink their wine.

That was also when his window of opportunity opened up in his side dealings. Forgotten and ignored, he was able to move about the party as Oliver the Underworld Trader rather than Oliver the Ungrateful Hero. Some members of the upper echelon were ignorant and biased, but many more were willing to work with Oliver…at least when profit was involved.

Oliver didn’t mind traversing the seedier parts of the city Mys. He grew up on these streets and knew them inside out. He acted as a middleman for the nobles, helping grease palms and make back-alley deals. In the last two years, he had made enormous profits and culled many favors from important people.

And many of those important people were here tonight and interested in trying to make deals. But frankly, Oliver wasn’t in the mood to talk to any of them.

He was looking for one woman in particular.

2

The estate of Margaret Cortet was enormous; she was a first cousin to the king, but she was not known for her political aspirations. The estate encompassed thirty-six separate guest and servant housings and boasted a staff of over two hundred butlers and maids.

The manor was some forty thousand square meters with seven separate wings. It was surrounded by kilometers of carefully tended gardens, streams, and walking paths.

The Cortet family had built a reputation for avoiding the public spotlight. With socialized media and modern technology, it was difficult to remain anonymous, but the Cortet family fought long and hard for their obscurity. This was the first time Oliver had heard of them hosting any sort of gathering, and he didn’t recall seeing them at any other nobleman’s house in the last two years either.

Lady Margaret, it turned out, wasn’t a child. She had grown into a woman in her late twenties with flowing green hair. She had pleasant features when she smiled and carried herself with an air of authority. 

She had undergone a new skin treatment, tinting her skin a faint blue. It was exotic and enticing and popular with the nobility, but he wouldn’t have called it attractive. Some people tried a little too hard to stand out.

There was a clutch of women following after her, murmuring and giggling to each other. She swept about the hall offering pleasantries and introductions, never staying in one place for too long. She was the perfect hostess, always in control.

When she finally made her way to Oliver, she expressed her deepest regrets that Admiral Crater hadn’t been able to come, but hoped that Oliver felt as welcome as a member of her family. The surprising thing was that, when she said it, she had seemed genuinely upset that Jim hadn’t shown.

Then she had disappeared just as fast, heading back into the crowd to greet the next visitor. All of the other guests, men and women who usually mocked him, were generous and polite to Oliver, always keeping one eye on the hostess as though they were children expecting to get chided. They were taking their cue from the hostess and treating him with civility.

The false pleasantness of it all was wearing him out more than the insults.

Somehow, the beautiful brunette he had come to see managed to sneak up on him.

He felt a hand brush his shoulder and turned to see the most elegant woman in the world smiling at him. Elizabeth had shoulder-length wavy hair and a shimmering silk gown that accentuated her curves perfectly. Yet it was her eyes that always caught Oliver’s attention: deep amber, piercing and intelligent. He felt like he could fall into those eyes and drown. They were the real reason he’d come to Lady Margaret’s banquet, just on the off chance he might get to peer into them.

Oliver had rarely seen Elizabeth with her hair down. Normally it was drawn back into a braid, and he’d certainly never dreamt of seeing her in such an expensive gown. He’d never seen her at such an elaborate gathering before, choosing only to meet with her on the streets when they had business to attend to…or other things.

It wouldn’t do to be caught in a tryst with the sister of Admiral Hektor Mensch.

3

Oliver had fallen in love with Elizabeth Mensch months ago. He thought of himself as always in control of his emotions…always honest about his feelings. That was before he’d met Elizabeth. 

“Care to dance?” she asked.

Don’t grin like an idiot, Oliver told himself.

“Of course,” he said, grinning like an idiot.  

He took her hand and gently led her away from the tables. The dance floor was a practical location to have a private conversation: With sound dampeners, it would be impossible for their words to be overheard. But Oliver had to admit that whether or not it was a practical decision never really crossed his mind.

“How are you, Liz?” he asked, breathless.

“Well enough.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Neither was I. I’m surprised she invited you. Lady Margaret is one of my dearest friends.”

He saw the corner of her lip twitch. “You don’t know her at all, do you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You have a tell. Be honest, you’ve never met her before today, have you?”

“No,” Elizabeth admitted. “Not before this gathering. But I like her a lot. She’s not as pretentious as I expected and more ambitious than I gave her credit for.”

“How is your brother?”

She winced, a hurt expression in her eyes. He worried that someone might notice, but a quick glance around showed him that they were alone. There were another six couples on the dance floor, but with the size of the hall, there could have been upward of sixty couples without anyone coming close to them.

“I’m not here because he sent me,” Elizabeth said. Oliver met her eyes. She looked down, the embodiment of false modesty. “Well, not entirely.”

“He still gives you orders?”

“He’s in charge of the family.”

“You should be in charge.”

“I will be,” she replied. “But, for now, I have to play by his rules.”

Oliver shrugged. “I’m not much for playing by the rules myself.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. She twirled, keeping in step with the music, and came close again. “I am supposed to be watching out to make sure Lady Margaret never speaks with your friend.”

“Who, Jim? You thought he’d be here?” Oliver asked. “When has he ever come to a party?”

“Well, my brother thought that with the proposed engagement, he couldn’t refuse—”

Oliver stumbled. “Hang on, hang on, what?”

Elizabeth scrunched her face up and then burst out laughing. “He didn’t know, did he?”

“The countess wants to marry him?” Oliver said, possibilities whirling around his head. “Marry him?”

“A marriage of convenience,” Elizabeth explained. “Her father is quite ill, and she has no desire to marry anyone who would absorb her legacy. Jim Crater is the lowest partner she can stoop to without reaching into the rabble.”

“Yet no one told us?”

“That’s what the invitation was for,” Elizabeth said. “Business like this is never discussed with indiscretion. Margaret would only do it in person.”

“He never comes to things like this.”

She shrugged. “In any case, I believe the countess intended to solidify the arrangement tonight, and I was instructed to ensure the two of them never met.”

“Would you have?”

“I was instructed to,” she replied, pursing her lips. “But it is a big room. I doubt I would have been able to stop her from speaking with Jim.”

“There is no love lost between you and your brother, is there?”

“He’s a petty tyrant,” she replied. “And he used to be a spoiled baby. Why should I care what he wants? I only took this job because I was afraid if Hektor gave it to anyone else, they might actually succeed.”

“Should I call Jim? Tell him to get his butt over here?”

“That is up to you,” she replied. 

He hesitated and then shrugged. “It isn’t really my problem.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Plus, I can think of some better ways to spend our time.”

He stepped in close and kissed her. Her eyes went wide, but she didn’t shy away. Finally, she pushed him back.

When they separated, she spoke breathlessly. “Trying to get us killed?”

“It would be worth it.”

“Not when it’s so easy to not get caught. People don’t care what happens behind closed doors as long as you don’t flaunt it.”

“You know, I had an uncle that said the exact same thing right before marrying his goat.”

“No you didn’t,” she said, chuckling.

“What? How would you know? Don’t tell me you’ve looked into my past,” he asked, pretending to be surprised. “Have you checked into my background?”

“Only the bad parts.”

“It was a prize goat,” Oliver explained, then before she could stop him, he leaned forward for another kiss. This time, she was slower in pushing him back.

“We should go,” she said.

Her smell was intoxicating. “I agree. But there are a lot of people around that would see us leave together.”

“True,” she said. “In any case, I’m leaving.”

“Where should I meet you?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” she said.

She stepped back, flashed him a smile, and then walked over to Lady Margaret. They spoke for a few moments and then Elizabeth headed for the exit. A moment later, he saw two men disappear from the crowd after her. Doubtless her brother’s spies, keeping track of her whereabouts.

Oliver watched her disappear and sighed.

One day she’s going to get me killed, he told himself. No woman is worth that kind of trouble.

It was understandable that Hektor Menschen wouldn’t want a union between Crater and Lady Margaret to come to fruition. If Jim married into the family, then any chance they had of ousting him was gone forever.

It would also be a good move for Lady Margaret. Jim was an Admiral, even if it was only in name. It would help her standing and garner her some public sympathy if she did plan to leave the shadows and take on a more public role.

Truly, though, Oliver wasn’t sure the marriage was a good idea. Lady Margaret wanted the matrimony as a political weapon. Leverage she could use against her enemies. She would probably rely on the fact that Crater was so much lower born than her to keep him in check.

She didn’t know how infuriating he could be, and making Lady Margaret angry would be an unfortunate circumstance for both of them. Such a marriage was the perfect plan to solidify Jim’s position as Admiral, if only he wouldn’t screw it up. But screwing it up was inevitable. 

Still…

Maybe he should call Jim and tell him about it. It wouldn’t be fair to withhold that kind of information when it could solve all of Jim’s problems.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the better the possibility seemed. If it worked out, and Jim didn’t mess everything up, then there was a lot of profit to be had. ‘First Officer’ had a nice ring to it, and Oliver wondered what it would be like to be in such an important position.

Oliver reached into his pocket for his communicator. His fingers brushed against his jacket pocket, and he felt a bulge from something that he hadn’t put in there. Curious, he reached in and found a little square key tag.

He eyed it for a moment, spotting the engraved name, and realized it was a hotel key. It belonged to a room in one of the most expensive suites only a few blocks from here.

Elizabeth must have slipped it in there while they were dancing.

Suddenly all thoughts of political intrigue flew out the window. He glanced back at the party one last time, trying—and failing—to convince himself he should stay, and then headed out the door.

Jim could solve his own problems.