10. A Quick Release #4
“It may be a sign.” Aria placed the kettle upon Noble’s stove and faced Romy seated at the bistro table.
“Again and again I’ve tried to make New Hieroph work for me, and it hasn’t.
This invitation—it may be a sign.” He’d been thinking about it over, and over, and over, for five full days.
And even though his soul continued to insist no, Aria’s mind was compelled.
Winterend approached, and Noble would return from his visit to the Agolde Estate, and Aria would need to make his choice.
“I think I’ve been waiting for a sign. Is this it? ”
Romy gazed at him in thought, her curly, blonde-streaked hair pulled up into a high ponytail at the top of her head. Her soft smile suited her. Being in love suited her. “Well, you can’t leave until after my wedding.”
“Obviously,” said Aria. “I’ve got to walk you down the aisle.” He’d been truly touched when she asked. Both she and Aria didn’t have fathers—they died young. Young for an elf, anyway.
“I don’t think you should leave at all, though.”
“I’ve got the perfect opportunity with Hampenstead. Nightveil might be the perfect change of pace for me.”
Romy’s pretty smile dropped. “Nightveil? You didn’t say it was Nightveil. You’d flee the entire kingdom of Allbright for that dreary place? It rains year-round.”
“It cannot be that bad.”
“If you think elves have it bad here, wait until you see that place. I went once as a child, and it was like a waking nightmare. The sun rarely shines there—Elys probably damned it centuries ago.” Romy nodded. “Stay here. Would it really be bad to be Noble’s adame?”
It was Aria’s turn to shudder. “I would never.”
“Why do you have such a problem with elven consorts? It’s not always about sex. Often it’s not. Elves simply kiss their patron, and their patron gets to enjoy an extended life.” Romy gestured. “It’s an honorable career these days. King Agolde even has an adame in his court.”
“I want to be loved. But more than that—I want to be a bard. I want to sing.” His heart ached as he said it, and felt like he was so far from his dream.
“My dad was an adame, you know. He died at court. I only got to see him a handful of times in my life. He was always working. Adame always work. It’s…
” He sighed. “It’s just not the life I want.
” Even if every man he encountered wanted him for his magic alone.
Romy exhaled, and the kettle whistled. “I knew your father had passed, but I didn’t know…"
“It’s alright,” said Aria, pulling the pot off the stove, and pouring two cups of tea for him and Romy. “I get frustrated sometimes because. Well.”
“Because you look exactly like an adame should. Blond and pretty.” Traditional adame were exclusively blond elves. “You’ve been told you should do that your whole life, huh?”
“Yes.” Aria brought the cups to the table and sat across from Romy. “Maybe that’s the sign. Maybe I should do it. Be an adame. Give up trying to make music. Give up trying to find love with one of these nobles, and work for them instead.” For their entire human life.
“Well,” Romy blew on the hot tea. “You don’t have to be Noble’s adame to be with him. You could just…be with him.”
Aria said, “He wants a wife. He’s been talking about marrying up—getting the title of duke from his uncle. He won’t get that with me. No, the royal family will all but abandon him if he dares go with me. Imagine if we had children? Half-elves in the human court? It’d never be allowed.”
Romy sighed in a dreamy way. “You and Noble would have such pretty babies. And how lovely would that be? No pregnancy. Boy elves really are Elys-blessed.”
For many elves, children could be conjured into life, womb or not.
If the parents’ love was true, and if they performed a ritual, a newborn would manifest between them both.
Aria could nearly see it: a tiny baby with Noble’s warm brown skin and Aria’s bright white hair.
His heart ached as he thought about Noble kissing them both, and smiling in that familiar, sunny way.
Romy interrupted the vision. “Anyway. Who cares what the royal family thinks? Noble’s as far removed as one of them can get, even if he’s technically a prince.”
Aria looked down at his cup, fingers warm against the ceramic, and he remembered how warm Noble had been beneath his hands, too.
“Noble cares. He’d take me as an adame, but he wants a wife.
I can think of nothing worse than standing by his side day to day while he marries and has his human babies and moves to the countryside. I’d rather anyone but him.”
“Because you love him.”
Aria gasped. “I didn’t say that.”
“But do you?”
Yes, said his soul. “No,” he said, stubbornly, loudly, mostly in response to his inner voice. He felt his face warm. “I…” His mind jumbled. “The way I feel for Noble is too complicated to summarize. He’s—he’s my best friend.”
Romy exhaled and said, “Fine then. Forget I said anything.” She sipped her tea and said, “Let’s get you prepared for your Winterend gig. You wanted to show me a song you prepared, did you not?”
Aria stood up, grateful for the topic change.
“I’ll fetch my lute. I need this job to go well—it may well be my last chance to strike out as an independent bard.
I’ve got to move out of Noble’s after Winterend, and if I fail to impress anyone at this party…
” Aria looked off. “It’s either Hampenstead’s Nightveil, or all the way back home. ”
“Neither one of those will happen on my watch. Let us practice.”