Page 28 of Noble Charms

Noble, for his part, remained rooted, allowing Aria to leave first. Noble's friend held open the gate for Aria to pass through unencumbered, and did not return the smile Aria flashed his way.

And Aria—Aria pretended that he did not care about the flash of hurt he saw in Noble's face. Of everything he'd said, all afternoon, all the insults that were playful or sincere, Aria declining to dine was the one that hurt Noble the most.

He pushed it out of his mind. He meant what he said. Aria believed he would never see Earl Noble Yves St. Clair ever again.

His soul knew better.

PART II: THE MIDDLE YEARS

4

A BAD END

ARIA

Romy had this way of moving with the music that left Aria both envious and impressed. She was beautiful enough to be an adame, and had a sexual appetite that would make her working at a brothel a perfect match, but the magic she conjured whilst dancing?

She was destined to be a bard. In some ways, Aria felt her opposite. Destined to be an adame, despite him not wanting to perform sexually. Where Romy was good at the bardic arts, Aria was good at adame tasks. In Ellor’s home, Aria effortlessly cast magic to purify food, to keep the candles lit and flames harmless, to clean dirt and debris instantly from every room. But, most importantly as an adame, his kiss kept Ellor from aging. Elves carried this blessing from the god Elys—every elven kiss was imbued with a magic that made their lover healthy and thriving.

In modern times, adame often weren’t lovers to their patrons, but more like important, magical servants. Aria was Ellor’s lover because they were in love, not because of his role.

At least, that’s what Aria believed.

Romy twirled with the beat of the song, smiling, and met Aria’s eyes with a playful grin. Her ample curves, her golden brown skin, her rich blonde curls that fell to her hips—she was a vision. As the music crescendoed, she spun, and spun, and spun, until she stopped before Aria, and he could see the fine sheen of sweat upon her skin. Then again, she always looked dewy. Romy was an elf descended from the marelfines. Her family hailed from the ocean itself.

The music stopped, and the audience clapped, and all the bards, including Romy and Aria, gave a grateful bow.

As the next song picked up, Romy’s fingers danced across the air between her and Aria, and she cast her magic. Mute, the spell that made it so two people could speak without being heard. “Dance with me,” she said, breathless.

Aria, plucking at his lute with practiced ease, shook his head and grinned. “You know that I cannot. If I stop playing, all that's left is Harper.” The harpist. “They'd lose it.” It being their mind, the beat, and the magic. The young elf in question did seem off-kilter—playing with an anxiety that didn't befit their instrument. Aria's consistency kept them both on-beat.

Romy frowned. “But this is my retirement soiree. I should get what I want.” Despite her argument, she dropped onto the floor cushion next to Aria, who lowered to sitting as well, close enough to brush their shoulders together. Romy fanned herself with a sheet of music that Aria certainly wasn't going to need. “I could use the break from dancing, I suppose.” And then she laughed. “I could use a break forever. This is it. I'm done dancing for money. Forever!"

“You shouldn't quit like this,” said Aria, watching Romy sidelong. “You're still young, and you've great talent.”

Romy scoffed. “And now I've amassed great wealth. Why would I keep at this thankless job when I can lounge comfortably in all the riches I've earned? And I didn’t even need to be an adame to do it.”

Aria wilted, but still didn't miss a note.

Romy pouted. “Aw, Aria. I didn’t mean it like that. You and your duke should wed, already. Drop the adame pretense. You've been seeing Ellor for five years now, have you not?”

The answer depended on whether or not Aria counted their relationship from the beginning or from when they last broke up. Three times they called it off. Most recently, it happened five months ago, when they split on their fifth anniversary. Aria was let down over the lack of celebration, and Ellor, frustrated, had thrown him out of his home. Then the warm, lonely, summer passed in a depressive haze before Ellor reached out again. If Aria counted from that point, their relationship was scarcely a month old. “I prefer my independence,” said Aria, instead. He looked out over the swaying crowd, at the men drinking at the bar. The duke in question was nowhere to be seen. “But also, he's never asked me. I can't marry someone who hasn't asked.”

“You could ask him.” She paused. “And then divorce him.”

Aria couldn't help but giggle at the thought. “Yes, I'll propose. I'll make him a ring out of guitar string. Present him with flowers made from ruined sheets of music. I'm sure Ellor would be swept away by me, then.” Aria counted himself lucky to have been able to move back in with Ellor, because the cost of his studio apartment had grown untenable. There were moments, during his lonely, struggling summer, where Aria thought he may have to return to Argosin a failure to his calling. Or worse: turn to a brothel and find another patron who didn’t love him like Ellor had.

He was lucky to have Ellor. He would never risk losing him by proposing marriage improperly.

Romy frowned. “He should be lucky you even have considered marrying him and joining the ranks of his snobby friends. You're not just gorgeous, Aria Charms. You're almost strangely intelligent. And even more strangely powerful. And funny. Secretly, though. Secretly funny.”

“Secretly funny says that I'm not funny at all, except inside your own mind.” Aria grinned. He was flattered, in truth. And he couldn't really argue with her about Ellor's friends: they were, on the whole, intolerable. In all the time he’d been Ellor’s lover, Ellor’s friends had spoken to him maybe a half-dozen times.

“No, it says you're smart enough to not run your funny mouth in front of those that don't appreciate it.” Romy flashed a bright stare at some of the more well-dressed visitors of The Bardic Post on this night. Her farewell soiree had gathered a most unusual array of folks from around New Hieroph City. Other bards, a few wizards, a giantess with an anaconda around her neck—altogether a great many people from different walks of life. Together, they all celebrated Romy's many talents, and mourned the loss of her presence as a dancing bard at their favorite clubs within the city. Aria could only hope to get a fraction of this send-off one day.

Maybe when he was sixty. He'd have saved enough by then, working as Ellor’s adame. Only twenty-nine years left to go. He suppressed a sigh. “Anyway,” said Aria. “You didn't actually get married, either.”

Romy relaxed against her floor cushion and released a wistful moan. “I would have. Thank Elys that Fordham was a good man, and had his will changed for me. If he hadn't, his entire estate would have gone to The Crown. Heaven knows the Agoldes don't need more funds.”