Page 73 of Noble Charms

Morgan shoved one dumbbell into Noble’s arms and watched him stumble back. “No. You’re a freak. You’ve been stronger than your kin for a decade now. And where’s your heat? You’d have stung my hands with how warm you’d get while we spar.”

“I know not,” Noble mumbled, lifting the weight curiously. It was heavier than he was used to. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Because we live in a time of peace, and you’re in the secondary tier of royals, your abilities have not been exploited. But believe me, Noble. If you’d displayed a fraction of your power at any other time in our history, you would be leading an army.”

Noble smirked. “That’s dangerously close to a compliment.”

Morgan leveled him with a flat glare. “It’s a fact that I am mentioning now, you freak, because that power seems to be slipping. Be it your age, or whatever it is, you need to keep watch on yourself. Lift more frequently. Box often. Keep up with your swimming. This is about your health. If you’ve not got an adame, or an elven lover, your vitality is your responsibility.”

Noble huffed as he grabbed his athletic bag, dumping the weight inside. “Aye, sir. I'll keep hard at work.”

Morgan gave him an encouraging grin and said, “Good. Let's go get some drinks. You can forget about Aria, and your bad sex, and⁠—"

“It was very, very good sex,” Noble interrupted, stopping their trek out of the sparring quarter. “Elysium’s white clouds, it was amazing.” He closed his eyes as the memories poured through him. Aria's mouth. His hands. The sounds he made. “The sounds he made,” Noble decided to say aloud. He was bragging, but only a little.

Morgan exhaled long and slow, as if centering himself in meditation, and he continued, “And I can drink to forget about how poorly you handled yourself on the mats.”

Noble frowned, and walked in-step with Morgan again. “I wasn't that bad.”

“Yeah, but you weren't amazing.” Morgan laughed at his own joke, and Noble grinned in reply.

“I can't possibly be good at everything, can I?”

Morgan pushed through the large, wooden double doors, leading them onto the autumn-damp street. “You're the demi-god. You tell me.”

Noble had done well in bed. He was certain of it. Aria came twice—something Aria, himself, had insisted he could not do. But that hadn't been enough. “I'm not good at love.”

“I don't know that anyone can be good at that. It’s either there, or it’s not, and that’s all.”

“It’s there for me. But not for him.”

“What did he say?”

“I spilled my heart to him—told him I wanted him.”

“And he said he didn’t feel the same way.”

Noble recalled the scene yet again, and winced in pain at how broken Aria looked. “I think he really cares for Hampenstead. And he didn’t want to be associated with me as an adame…"

Morgan nodded in understanding. “Of course not. People assumed Ellor used him as an adame, sexually. And then they’d assume the same thing with you, if you made your relationship sexual like this. And he wants to be a bard.” Morgan glanced down at Noble's body and back up. “The gossip about you two wasn’t helping, either.”

Noble raised an eyebrow. “What gossip?”

Morgan stroked his chin, sifting through his memory. “I suppose it began after your date with the Lady Terra. People speculated if the great womanizing Yves St. Clair had been seduced by his adame and turned to men. I’m sure she started the rumor.”

Oh, how cruel the consequences of his poor behavior. “You didn't tell me?”

“I have kept a great many rumors from you. Why would I let you stew in the hurt of things that are not true? I knew that you weren't paying Aria for sex. Or to be your adame.”

Noble’s extremities went numb. “Morgan. Do you think Aria believed that I was asking him to be my adame only? Do you think—is it possible he didn’t know I meant I wanted him in every way?”

Morgan crossed his arms over himself. He replied with only a slow narrowing of his eyes.

ARIA

Viscount Eric Hampenstead was a half-orc with smooth green skin and a stutter that grew more pronounced with lingering eye contact, and Aria thought him terribly charming. His suits were made of fine materials but not perfectly tailored to his bulky frame, like he’d put on weight he didn’t want to acknowledge, and he carried with him a trunk of books from city to city, because he loved reading narratives about other cultures across their world. He was smart and gentle and so completely different from Ellor. Aria could see the peaceful life they’d have together: utterly opposite the fraught, tension-filled relationship he had with his duke.

Which is why Aria felt like a monster as he asked, “Did you make up your mind on what to do about me?”