Page 6 of Noble Charms

“No. I’ve had lunch.”

“Ah. I skipped to spend more time with Sylv. You know.” He tried and failed to hide a smirk, and Aria was embarrassed enough for the both of them. Silence filled the cart while anxiety filled Aria’s chest for the second time that day. He hid it, as he always did, behind a simple blank stare.

He could only wonder to himself: that’s him?

NOBLE

This Aria fellow, all coiffed with shiny blond hair and a thick bardic robe that should have been low-cut and tawdry but had been paired with a damned turtleneck of all things, represented the pomp Noble worked hard to escape at his time in Argosin.

Aria had done the opposite. He’d spent his university education learning how to don that pomp like an overstuffed fur coat. He’d even perfected that silent, expressionless air of superiority that the title class used around poorer folk.

But Aria belonged to those poorer folk. To the everyday man. It was obvious in the quality of his hair, his robe, his carriage. How could a coach rumble when it didn’t even have wheels?

After hours of one-sided chat, Noble gave in to silence. (All he had asked was, “Who’s your least favorite royal? Mine’s Prince Regent.” And Aria looked near to sick and refused to reply.)

Noble took to watching the ever-stretching sky as the carriage climbed through the countryside. The sun set behind them, and the gradient above fell from blue to pink to orange behind sloping, spring-green hills. He counted himself lucky to be one of the only royals that got to experience such a sight. His cousins, on both sides, preferred to remain at the coast, in more well-connected cities like New Hieroph or the kingdom’s capital of Sallansa. And if they did travel, they preferred to take one of the glossy, magic-powered trains. With guards. And butlers.

Noble worked hard to shake off those expectations, and this trip, unaccompanied save for Aria, was a victory lap to celebrate his independence. Take that, Mother Mine. I can do all of this on my own—like a normal man.

The bell above Noble’s head chirped once, and Aria gasped awake. Noble chuckled and said, “Good morning.”

“Hm,” Aria replied. He cleared the sleep from his voice. “My sincerest apologies. I⁠—"

“We’re going to be crammed in this coach for a week. You’re allowed to sleep.” He’d actually been lovely while sleeping. Fewer of those questioning stares and less of that prim, pretty voice.

Aria shifted one way and then another as if uncomfortable, and smiled nervously as he awoke. “That bell means we’re nearing the first inn. I hope it’ll be to your liking.”

Noble watched Aria’s face, muscles trained as still as a porcelain mask. Poor fellow needed a stiff drink and an even stiffer buggering. Sylvia mentioned Aria had a boyfriend—some orcish painter—but he’d clearly not performed his duties well. Aria was wound up like a pretty, waifish string on a carefully crafted spindle.

Noble’s mind wandered as his eyes did the same, drifting from Aria’s small pierced elven ear to his pointy, sloped nose. Aria was fortunate to have such a cute face, Noble decided, because his stuffy disposition would be intolerable otherwise. Noble glanced at Aria’s thick pink lips, pursed tight, and wondered if his artist boyfriend made use of them often enough, or if he failed to do that too.

Aria filled the silence by remarking, “Dinner should be included.”

“Beautiful. I’m starved.” Noble reached for the satchel of nuts he brought and cracked open a shell. He tossed the two halves out the window and caught Aria’s brief, disapproving frown. Noble was really going to have to turn on the charm to make this guy settle down. He said, as he ate, “So. Why a bard over an adame? Is it the sex thing?” Adame were elven escorts—and while they didn’t necessarily have sex with their patrons, it certainly was common. Sylvia mentioned his prowess with magic and Aria could live his life in near-luxury if he committed himself to one wealthy family for life.

“No. I simply would prefer independence. I would like to strike out on my own as a musician.” Aria wouldn’t meet Noble’s stare. “And besides, adame don’t have to have…intimate relations.”

“Yes, I know. They exchange blood, yes?”

“I’ve heard they do that in Nightveil,” Aria said, shifting. “It’s not a common practice here in Allbright. We can simply kiss.”

Noble squinted. “I thought the magic was in the fluid. The bodily exchange.”

Aria said, “Well, it has to be a mouth-to-mouth kiss. You needn’t drink from me to get the life-increasing benefit.”

Noble held back a disbelieving scoff. It was definitely the sex thing. Even if Aria didn’t want to be intimate with his patron, being an adame would associate him with elves that were intimate with their patrons. “You could provide music in addition to the magic benefits. I’m sure that’d be sought after. Could get you even higher bids.”

“I do not want to be an adame,” said Aria, more firm and certain in his tone than before. “I am a bard. I plan to work as a bard only.”

Noble raised his hands, palms out. “Fair enough. I understand. I’ve no plans of adding an adame to my personal staff; it’s a bit of a dated tradition, I think.” He reached for another topic, to salvage the conversation, and asked, “What do you do for fun?”

A silence fell over Aria as he ruminated with gleaming blue eyes growing deeper and more thoughtful. The silence continued, on and on.

“Never mind.” Noble sighed as he bit into another nut. “Do you take everything so seriously?”

Aria frowned. “I’m not taking everything seriously.”

“I asked what you do for fun, and you looked as if you worked to solve an equation of a kind. It’s not astronomy. It’s a question of pastime. What do you do to pass the time?”