1. An Untrained Heir
AN UNTRAINED HEIR
ARIA
Other fresh grads moving out of Argosin University clogged the streets with enormous steamer trunks and many doting parents with their own buggies and carriages.
Aria guided his enchanted, wheelless coach down a spring-damp cobblestone path, between the towering brownstone dormitories, navigating the sea of strangers and a handful of familiar faces—(“Good morrow, Elizabeth. Lovely to see you. Must be going!”)—all whilst the hands of his pocket watch tick-tick-ticked against his heart.
A long carriage ride was all that remained between Aria and his destiny.
His soul was certain of it, even if his head was not. All his life, he’d heard whispers within himself: go west. Find him. And he was ready to make the journey to where he belonged. A bard in New Hieroph City.
He did belong there, in the urbane sprawl, didn't he? He was never meant to stay in his tiny little village with more sheep than people. His magic, his beauty—these were gifts destined for greater things. Four years of bardic training at university had made him ready. Supposedly.
As Aria approached the designated corner where he was meant to meet Lord Noble Yves St. Clair, the watch’s ticking felt more like thunder. Gods be swift. He was more nervous now than he’d been during his final exam last week.
How would he find one human man among such a number of them?
They’d never met despite both attending the University of Argosin in the same graduating class, and Aria knew little of the human monarchy.
Weren’t they red-haired? He couldn’t recall.
Aria knew the man was human, yes, but humans came in a dizzying array of colors and sizes, considering most were part giant.
A shame this Lord Noble hadn’t been an orcish noble instead—Aria was acquainted with their iconic silver skin.
Aria’s mounting fears were soon dispelled, because he found Lord Noble Yves with terrible ease. His soul spoke again, and it was no gentle whisper this time. That’s him.
Near the corner of the stained-glass walls of the library building, at the end of the oak-lined street, two figures writhed in visible passion.
One was an elven woman, slight in form like most elves, with long white hair.
The other was a human man—well over six feet tall with long brown-black hair and skin so golden copper that it looked as if he glowed from the inside out.
His large, many-ringed fingers fastened upon the woman’s behind over her layered skirts.
As he approached the lovers, Aria held his breath, as if their desire could somehow be contagious.
The two moaned and panted and whispered to one another, oblivious to his approach.
He looked between the kissing pair and confirmed that the woman in question was his childhood friend, Sylvia. Which meant this human was him.
Him, said Aria’s soul.
One day ago, when Sylvia learned Aria planned to leave Argosin for New Hieroph City, she’d squealed that the timing was divine.
Her boyfriend had complained about taking the train across the kingdom and was stranded.
His royal status required a reserved car, and he’d have to wait a month’s time for his trip for the arrangements, and he was despondent.
Aria agreed to help. Such a dear friend you are, said Sylvia, but that hadn’t been the truth of it.
Aria’s fears—nay, terror—of moving to New Hieroph meant he was the one benefiting from the arrangement. This St. Clair grew up in the city. Having him as a guide would be a remarkable boon. Assuming, of course, that they got on.
This golden, handsy, towering human man was the Honorable Lord Noble Yves St. Clair, Son of Earl Something-something, Twelfth Heir to His Majesty the King Agolde’s Throne, the Great Ninth Son Child of the Sun God.
That’s him. That’s him.
“I love you so much,” Sylvia said against Noble’s lips.
Aria’s calm mask slipped off his nose as it curled in disgust. Startled at his own reaction, he squared his shoulders and took a breath.
“I love you,” Lord Noble Yves muttered in return, hands still squeezing through her many layers of linen skirts. “And this. I love this a lot.” His fingers tightened as Sylvia giggled and squirmed. “I’ll miss it deeply.”
Aria cleared his throat, if only to stop them before word got out about the utter lack of decorum displayed by a member of the royal family—technically a prince.
If only to stop Sylvia before someone decided her behavior misrepresented elves at large, and the once-conservative Fellowship Elves decided the intermingling of humans and elves need be forbidden again.
Elves and humans had been at peace for a hundred years now.
Imagine if this open display of lust sent them back to war?
Sylvia and Lord Noble continued undeterred. She asked, “Are you sure you have to go?”
“I suppose I could fight the gods to free myself of my obligation to them,” he replied, his deep, velvet-smooth voice as practiced as any bard.
From what Aria knew, Lord Noble had been at the University of Argosin to learn law, not music, and if he’d trained in the arts, he would have crossed Aria’s path before now.
But perhaps this voice, this charm, belonged to his lineage.
The Sun God left some blessings. Perhaps in voice?
Aria directed the horses and carriage closer to the pair, until a shadow cast over them. He ahemed loudly this time.
Sylvia looked up and gasped. “Aria! Hi. You’re early.” He was not.
“Well met,” said Aria, tilting his head. He released the reins to his mares and said, with a bow, “Sylvia. Nice to see you. And, My Lord, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Aria Charms of Highfell, of the Bardic College of Argosin. I come bearing your ride to New Hieroph City.”
They met eyes, blue to black, and all at once the many noises of the lane faded behind them.
Lord Noble Yves wore no mask at all. He smiled openly, handsome face almost troubling in its perfect symmetry.
“Please, my friends call me Noble.” He stepped away from Sylvia and moved close to Aria, and his every step matched the rhythm of Aria’s beating heart.
He offered his hand to shake. “If I cared for things like titles, I’d have asked my uncle to send me a caravan. ” Uncle. The King. Of course.
Aria looked at Noble’s proffered hand in a moment of hesitation before taking it into his own and squeezing the way humans preferred.
Something settled in Aria, and all the nerves, and all the fears, and all the anticipation disappeared. That’s him, said his soul, and then it too fell quiet for the first time in a long time. Aria sputtered for something to say and asked, “You wish me to address you by Noble?”
“If I had any wish right now, it would be to stay here with her.”
The world rushed back. The noise returned. Aria’s back went stiff as Sylvia sniffed and said, “We said we wouldn’t cry, Noble.”
Noble looked nowhere near tears. He flashed a smile behind himself, at Sylvia, and said, “I guess this is it, then. I’ll write to you.
We’ll arrange your visit to the city soon.
” Sylvia scampered to his side, placed a kiss upon his cheek, and then stepped away.
Noble faced Aria straight-on, black eyes taking him in, and his charming white grin seemed to glow. “You’re my driver for the next week?”
“Not precisely.” Aria collected his thoughts, staring with purpose into Noble’s too-friendly face.
Though he hadn’t known the human nobility well, Noble did seem familiar.
Perhaps he shared that smile with portraits Aria had seen of the king.
He stepped away from Noble and explained.
“I’ve a driverless coach that we’ll share.
I’ll be accompanying you here, on the opposite bench.
Worry not, I’ve mapped stops across the countryside.
We will sleep and dine in an inn each evening.
It should be a comfortable journey for us both. ”
“I see.” Noble hefted a big burlap bag over his shoulder.
Aria realized he had no other effects—no trunk, no case—and held his many questions as he opened the boot of the carriage for Noble’s…
sack. Noble didn’t notice Aria’s curious examination of the lumpy thing as it was deposited, and he looked over the coach with a narrowed gaze.
It had faded paint, but solid, gleaming windows on all four sides, and a roof that was unlikely to leak.
“Interesting. Better than waiting weeks. I appreciate your aid. The Crown will no doubt send its thanks.”
“That’s not necessary at all,” said Aria, raising both hands. “I’m doing this for Sylvia.” He glanced over to her, and she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and gave a little wave.
“Sure.” Noble waited by the carriage door, and Aria stepped up to pull the silver handle, opening it for him to inspect. Noble said, “You can send the money back when it comes, I guess.” He plopped into one seat and leaned out the already-opened hatch window. “I’ll write to you soon, Sylv.”
“Please do!” She cried.
Aria climbed into the seat opposite Noble, closed the door, and reached up to ring a bell mounted into the red velvet-upholstered ceiling above. A misty green ghost swept by the door, checking that it was fastened, and then stepped up the footholds to climb into the driver’s seat.
Noble whistled. “Old school. A real phantom carriage.”
Aria sniffed as he buckled himself in with leather straps.
Noble had not done the same, but Aria said nothing.
No doubt Noble had ridden in many more coaches than Aria and already knew how they worked.
“My mother purchased it secondhand as a graduation gift. I wasn’t expecting it.
I thought for sure I’d have to spend the summer working to earn train fare to make it to New Hieroph. ”