Page 42 of Noble Charms

“You said he’s seeking a spouse. Not a wife…?” Aria gave Noble a once-over, curious.

“Morgan’s open to any and all. He’d kept company with a nice young elven man for a time. I don’t think you could call him kinsme.” Noble’s face grew dark with a blush. “I guess I don’t know. I mean, Morgan’s a horn-bearer anyway, and kinsme is an elven word, so it may be offensive to use it in such a way, and⁠—"

It was Aria's turn to laugh, cutting Noble’s uncomfortable rambling short. “You really haven't the language to discuss this gracefully, My Grace.”

“Ugh. Don't call me that, even as a joke,” Noble said, lip curled. “That's the worst one of them all.”

“But you're usually graceful,” Aria replied. “It suits you well.”

Noble tried to pout, but couldn't contain himself. He grinned, once more, and bumped Aria's shoulder like Aria had done before. “We never discuss these sorts of things in my family—both sides. I didn’t even learn the word kinsme until I was living in Argosin. My family has only ever had one expectation of me: get a nice, well-to-do wife. Honestly, discussing anything otherwise—taking a man as a spouse instead—would be impossible. We're supposed to breed. That’s the role of those descended from the Sun God. It's our single commandment from above. Have kids.” He sighed. Groaned. And shook off the thoughts. “I've honestly mucked up my family's few requirements for me by losing Virginia like this.”

“You'll find someone new, and they'll be happy for you, I'm sure.” Aria meant it. He reached up, and placed a hand upon Noble's arm that held the handle of the umbrella above. “You're going to enjoy the process. Remember that part. Someone new in bed?”

“I haven't a clue how I'll manage to do that, either. Meet, and bed, my next wife.” Noble sighed. “My every invitation for the upcoming season has been rescinded.”

Aria gaped. The autumn ball season was the most enjoyable of the year—there were more casual functions in addition to the glitzy galas leading up to the winter equinox, Winterend. That day in particular came with a citywide celebration, with hundreds of parties happening all at once, and Noble had undoubtedly attended the most exclusive Winterend soiree each year. He squeezed Noble's arm, his God-given warmth sinking into his fingers. “They can do that? Uninvite you?”

“No, not really, but I received several letters of sympathy, and every single one said that they would understand my absence at their event.” Noble smiled without it reaching his eyes and helped Aria step safely off a curb and across the street, avoiding an approaching carriage. “It's all subtle. Passive. If I dared to show up anyway, they'd be aghast, and I'd confirm their suspicions—that I’m a ghoul that doesn't understand the niceties of my ilk. It'd be the final nail in the coffin of Former-Earl Yves St. Clair.”

Aria pinched a lip between his teeth as he mulled it over in his mind. “In a way, you've been fired just as I have.” If they hadn't been mired in such terrible sadness, the similarities of their circumstances would have seemed a little amusing. They were opposite in almost every way—elf, human. Short, tall. Kinsme, not. Peasant class, title class. And yet they both stood on the same rainy street, beneath the same damp umbrella, with the same broken heart. “I suppose you get to keep the book, then. We're equally pitiful. But at least I'll be busy busking. You're the one who's going to have the time to sit down and read the thing.” Aria began to slip away, but Noble grabbed his hand gently, and held it between them.

Noble peered at Aria's fingers and knuckles with uncanny focus, and his thumb stroked idly upon his skin. He was warm, but nonetheless Aria shivered, and purposefully did not consider why, even as his soul hummed in joy. Noble broke the silence as he said, “We should share it. We can share it. Move in with me.”

Aria tripped over a crack in the flagstone at their feet, but Noble's hand on his own kept him upright. He fumbled with his words the same as with his steps. “I beg your pardon?”

They stopped walking, and Noble released Aria once he was stable again. But then Noble donned that uncanny, manic look that meant he was up to no good. “It's perfect. You're an elf.”

Uh. “Yes, very good,” Aria replied, slowly, as if addressing a child. “And…"

Noble scoffed a laugh and said, “I mean—you've no titles. You've made your own way in New Hieroph for a decade yet, as a common man. If I start bringing you about publicly, to events around town, it’ll improve my reputation. If I pretend, for a time, that you’re my adame.”

Aria let the idea sink in. “Hm. Yes, that may actually work to undo some of the ruin. Most nobles employ an adame.” And though some, like Ellor, engage in romantic relations, many others would not. Noble’s history as a womanizer would be a boon to him in this scenario. “You want to hire me.”

“No! Well, I mean, certainly I’d be happy to give you coin, but I would never expect you to perform for me,” said Noble. “I mean it to be a farce. I don’t think nobles should be hiring elves to bolster their longevity. But if I act like I’m turning over a new, high-class leaf… And besides, you’d have a place to stay. Permanently. Well, until I remarry, of course.”

Aria considered it. His heart tightened some, but he had to admit the offer was tempting. It would solve a great many problems at once.

“I swear to treat you as a friend.” Noble paused. And then he spoke, quickly and with a contagious enthusiasm, “We can be friends, can’t we? And you’ll have full room and board. An adame’s salary to match. And! Most importantly, you’ll get to come to the various galas and rub shoulders with others in the nobility. You’ll get to fix your own reputation—as a bard. We’ll bring your lute with each trek out, and I’ll queue opportunities for you to play for my supposed friends. See?”

Aria was struck with the same sense he had when he learned Noble saved Lima and Pinto from the stables. Noble presented him with kindness and hardly recognized his own generosity in doing so. And this was Aria's opportunity to return the favor—he was unlikely to ever be in this position again. “Then, I agree. But without the salary.”

Noble's thick, dark brows furrowed together in concern. “Hm? But I've plenty⁠—"

Aria held up a hand. “If I accept payment for appearing as your adame—” he wasn't sure why his cheeks grew warm at the word. He ignored it, and hoped the dim light of the street helped mask the color. “It’d be perilously close to being real. Neither of us wants that. I want to be a bard. This will give me the chance if I can focus on that alone.”

Noble stroked his chin, along the short, wiry hairs of his beard. “But I fear your burden will be much greater than mine with this plan. You deserve to get something out of this that isn't just another temporary bed.” He was quick to add, “Not that temporary. You may stay as long as you like, I swear.”

“Ha.” Noble's manic energy rubbed off on Aria, and his skin buzzed. He pointed at Noble, and then himself. “Noble, if you gain me access to places, and to people, that I've not been able to access before? I wouldn't even need to find a new bardic guild. I could truly strike it out on my own, as an independent.” Forget being blacklisted—if he charmed the right people, at the right places, he'd be whitelisted for gigs he'd never before been able to land.

“You'll move in? With me?”

Aria tried to remain casual and shrugged. His soul screamed yes. “I suppose it's not the most terrible idea. But it does ruin our other plans, you know. Usually this is the part where we part ways with fresh wounds and simmering fury.”

“Oh, that's not ruined.” Noble grinned. “Merely postponed. We can do that about a year from now, when I'm freshly wed, and you're amassing riches with a doting lover worshipping at your pretty feet.”

“Hm,” said Aria, staring up at the swirling dark sky of clouds above. “A thousand gold, you say? Very well. I agree.”

Aria couldn't blame himself too much for misunderstanding. His soul continued to proclaim it’s him every time Noble came into view, and would then fall into a cozy, peaceful silence within his company. Aria’s affection grew misplaced like a weed flowering between flagstones on the city street.