7. A Bold Move #2
Aria raised his hands, cracked his knuckles, and said. “Agreed.”
But Morgan wasn't going to give him the chance to prepare, and as soon as the word left his mouth, the knife struck through the air.
Aria’s magic came to him without reciting a spell, without music from his voice or lute. He found it from all around him, flowing from the air, from the world, into his veins. He released the spell: Timestop. A spell that paused the movements inside a radius the caster chose.
Five feet from around the post—nothing moved. Including the knife, which had stopped against the wood. All four dinner guests rushed from the table, approaching the knife to examine its proximity.
“Wow,” said Noble. “You did it. I didn’t know you could cast so quickly—and without music. What manner of bard are you?”
Aria’s stomach dropped, then did a loop, and he felt his face go flush. This had been a mistake—he shouldn’t’ve demonstrated his skill. Fortunately, Romy saved him from having to explain.
“Aria is a very special elf, as I’m sure you know,” said Romy. “His gift with magic is unlike any I’ve seen. Elys truly has blessed him.”
Morgan crossed his arms, crouching to view the knife at eye level. “I must give it to you; this is fine work.”
Aria’s stomach unknotted and he gave Morgan the slightest bow of his head. “See?”
And Romy, ever a traitor, said, “But Aria lost.” When Aria jolted, she said, “You did. Look.”
Morgan nodded, finger upon the post, above the knife. “The tip is touching the post. You weren't fast enough. No spell would be.”
Aria said, “Oh, come now—it's barely touching it at all. Noble would be unharmed.”
“If that had touched me, I'd scarcely have a knick,” Noble agreed. “I've had worse wounds from shaving.”
“Sure, but that wasn't what we said.” Morgan stood straight and snatched the knife from midair. Aria released the spell with a sigh. “I can admit when I'm impressed. That wasn't bad.”
Aria frowned, and Noble placed a warm hand upon his arm. “Spirit of Law. I'd give it to you.”
Romy turned to Morgan and said, “I mean, rules are rules. It was a simple task. He lost.”
Morgan smiled at her and said, “We see eye-to-eye, you and I.”
Romy's smile went a little soft on the edges, and Aria watched as she gestured with her own magic, demonstrating her abilities to protect.
Aria sighed, and Noble's hand stroked his skin in comfort. Noble leaned in to whisper, “Morgan's simply a competitive sort. Would have been near-impossible to get him to cave, I fear.”
Aria relaxed against Noble's side and mumbled back, “No wonder you two argue as often as you do. You're both stubborn as mules.”
Noble's laugh rumbled through Aria, and he had to admit, even though he lost, Noble's support made it hurt slightly less. Noble said, “I'll trust you to protect me in the future. I’ve never known anyone who could do all that you do.”
Aria patted Noble's hand on his arm and said, “From here on out, I'll stop any knives that come your way.”
NOBLE
Noble and Aria stood side-by-side on the sidewalk outside the house, watching Romy and Morgan depart down the block, and around the corner. Noble caught, as they moved out of sight, as Morgan reached for her hand.
He sighed as the strained, tangled knot inside his chest grew ever-tighter. “I suppose that wasn't what either of us hoped for.”
Aria shivered as he said, “I'm terribly sorry, Noble.”
“You're sorry? For what?”
“I hoped Romy would be a match.” He looked towards the sky, the smooth line of his cheekbone and jaw revealing none of his inner thoughts. “That would have been nice. Then I'd have an excuse to see you both whenever I liked once I’m out of your home.”
Noble understood the sentiment too well. “Yeah. At least they seem to have enjoyed one another.”
Aria shivered again, more pronounced this time, and said, “Elysium above. It's gotten even colder.”
Noble took a step towards his stoop. “Let's get back inside, into the warmth.”
Aria gasped. “Noble. Look. Snow!” Noble tilted his head to look where Aria did, into the sky, and the makings of small flakes drifted upon a breeze. “The first of the season.”
Noble watched the childlike wonder dawn like a rising sun upon Aria's face. Aria continued to shake—he wore only a shirt, and not a jacket to dinner—but he remained in place, hand outstretched to catch a flake.
And when one landed upon his palm, the clouds above seemed to break—suddenly, fat, fluffy flurries filled the air around them, glittering and white.
Aria laughed and said, face turned to the sky again, “I love snow.” Flakes caught upon his long lashes and his pointed nose, and he sighed in bliss—a relaxed sound Noble did not often get to hear.
He shed his dark blue wool jacket and draped it around Aria, to stave off the chill. “You'll get sick in the cold like this.”
Aria held the lapel of the coat against himself and said, “Ah. Thank you—wow.” His eyes closed in apparent bliss. “It's warm.”
Noble placed a hand around Aria—to share his warmth. That was all. His arms moved without his permission until Noble had hugged Aria from behind. Quietly, above his scalp, Noble said, “Sun God things.”
Aria rested his head against Noble's shoulder, settling in comfortably into the jacket.
It was thigh-length on Noble, which meant it hit Aria's knee, draping over him in an obvious display of their different heights.
Noble could tuck Aria entirely against himself, and he did, and together, they silently watched the snow fall.
Noble still had not solved his problem. Aria was a problem. Holding him like this, warm in body but also in his heart, was a problem.
Aria looked up at him with his starlit blue gaze.
Noble could smell the red wine that had stained his pink lips, a now-familiar shade of red.
Why couldn't he stop staring at Aria's mouth?
He already knew how he'd taste. Like the wine.
Like the baguette they shared with their meal.
Like the buzzing sensation of magic, because he was magic.
He was as powerful as he was beautiful. The tangled problem grew all the more pressing.
Feelings that Noble couldn't deny leaked within his chest, polluting his heart.
His heartbeat whispered, it’s him, it’s him, it’s him.
Aria turned within Noble's arms and placed a small, pale hand upon his chest. “Thank you for the jacket.”
Noble was just drunk enough to give in to his first instinct—to place his hand atop Aria's, and lace their fingers together. He squeezed.
“Noble?” He and Aria both turned to the source of the new, unexpected voice, standing near his stoop.
Virginia held her coat tightly closed with leather gloves, plaid scarf tucked tightly around her neck, wool hat dotted with snow.
Standing in her shadow, Noble met eyes with the squirrelly little man she'd left him for.
Kip. When Noble didn't reply, Virginia said, “I thought that was you standing in the middle of the street. What are you doing out here at midnight? In the snow?” She added, voice gone sharp, “With, I presume, your adame?”