11. A New End
A NEW END
ARIA
The night before Hampenstead left for the Agolde Estate, on Winterend’s Eve, Aria stepped into his hotel room ready to take the next step. He’d whispered to himself all day, you can do this, this is the best choice, this is right. All while his soul cried, no!
He liked Hampenstead. He was smart. He was kind. He wanted Aria the way Aria wanted him.
Hampenstead had his hotel suite prepared with candles, roses, white wine, and a whole roasted chicken that smelled like garlic. Not to mention the silk pillows and music player twinkling away in the corner to set the mood. It was terribly romantic.
Aria circled the room, smiling at the display. “This is lovely, Eric.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever been presented with a dinner like this before. The most Ellor had ever done was bring him a flower from a street vendor.
And Noble—
Well, he never dated Noble, but his memory fed him visions of him sharing his coat, of him helping Aria to remove his boots, of them curled together beneath a blanket reading The Bard Bride. Was that romantic?
Aria pushed Noble out of his mind.
“I t-tried,” said Hampenstead, chuckling. He closed the door, locked it, and stood with his arms tightly fastened to his sides.
Aria approached, and stood on his tiptoes to kiss his mouth in greeting.
“It smells good, the meal.” He looked over at the chicken seated on a bed of vegetables.
He actually hadn’t eaten meat once since moving in with Noble.
Noble, too, went temporarily vegetarian in Aria’s presence.
Aria didn’t remark on his usual diet, and instead took a seat at the small dining set by the window on the tenth floor, looking over downtown New Hieroph, with its twinkling lights and bustling carriages.
Hampenstead sat across from him and said, “Aria.”
“Yes?”
“I wish to have you.”
Aria flushed. “Goodness.”
“I’m s-sorry. I had to say it. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you and…” He trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor. “Since I’ll be gone two nights, I thought perhaps tonight we could make love.”
Aria waited for a beat before standing, approaching, and kneeling at Hampenstead’s feet. He smiled at Hampenstead’s startled inhale of air and said, “How do you want me?”
“Any way,” Hampenstead whispered. “How do you like to be had?”
It’d been some time since he was on his knees like this. Wordlessly, he reached forward to unfasten Hampenstead’s trousers. Hampenstead stopped him short, taking up both of Aria’s hands.
His dark brows pinched close to his brown eyes, and he asked, “Does this mean you’ve thought about my invitation?”
Aria swallowed, more nervous to discuss that than to take Hampenstead into his mouth. “Well, yes.”
“And?”
Twice now, Aria had been wronged by the nobles he’d cared for.
Ellor never intended to marry him—he wanted control over him emotionally.
Noble never intended to marry him—he wanted a wife to satisfy the expectations of his family.
Before he agreed to anything, he had to know.
“Do you see yourself marrying me one day?”
Hampenstead blinked behind his round spectacles a few times, clearly thrown by the question. “What do you mean?”
“Not now—no, I don’t mean—” Aria laughed nervously, and sat back on his heels. “I mean in the far future, if everything is good, and we’re a good match, would you marry me?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment and said, “I don’t think patrons often marry their adame, do they?”
The silence from Aria wasn’t quiet at all, because the music player continued to ding-ding-ping-ring in the background. He stared, utterly still, into Hampenstead’s eyes. “What?”
“Well, and logistically, how would it work, an adame-husband? Would you still get a salary? No, that’s quite odd.”
Aria pushed himself away from Hampenstead, and nearly tripped as he climbed to his feet. “No. Not—no salary, of course not.”
Hampenstead hesitated before nodding. “Right, then. I feel like I’ve misunderstood something.”
“I don’t want to be an adame. I want love.”
“I could love you as an adame.”
“What about as a husband?”
“You’re untitled, and an elf, and moreover—an adame. I cannot imagine how it would work. I’d lose face, lose business, should I try something like that. You understand, don’t you? You could be my adame in title, and we could carry on in love.”
“I have been dating you—we’ve been courting already.”
“Have we?” Hampenstead’s brows pinched. He seemed genuinely concerned as he asked, “Are you dating nobility so you may wed one of us? For our coffers?”
Aria’s chest grew hot. “Absolutely not.”
“Then why would you suggest courtship over—"
Aria said, voice rising despite himself, “Because I want to be loved, Eric, not used.”
“Come now, that’s an old-fashioned way of thinking. Adame are highly respected. Revered, even.”
“I don’t want to be paid to be by your side.”
“What’s marriage but a different type of payment? One that puts me, specifically, in a poor position.”
“A husband is someone you love. Someone you love as an equal.”
Hampenstead said, “We aren’t equals, Aria. I’m a viscount. You’re an adame.”
We aren’t equals, Aria.
We aren’t equals.
Aria trembled as he backed away. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”
“D-don’t be like that,” said Hampenstead, following him step for step. “What I propose is—is better. You can stop being a bard. Stop working shitty gigs at parties for people who don’t care about you, and join me. I care about you. Be my adame and I’ll keep you happy. Or t-try to. I swear.”
Aria kept moving back, until he hit the door. “No.”
Hampenstead asked, “Are you dating nobility for our coin?”
He whispered, “I cannot believe you’d ask me such a thing.”
Hampenstead’s face twisted into a frown, and he said, “Well, you’ve fucked two nobles in short order, and were about to suck a third, so you may forgive me for my c-confusion.”
“I told you that it wasn’t like that with Noble.”
“No? You didn’t use him for a place to stay? You didn’t use him for opportunities to meet other elites like me? You didn’t use him for sex? What did you call it? Comfort. He comforted you. You used him. You told me yourself—you didn’t even perform adame duties for his home.”
“No,” whispered Aria, hand scrambling for the doorknob. “It’s not like that at all.”
Hampenstead captured Aria’s hands in both of his own.
“I don’t say this to hurt you. I’m n-not trying to be cruel.
I simply want you to consider the proposition.
You know me, do you not? I care for you.
Be my adame. Let me pay you for your services, and we will travel the world together.
You deserve a fresh start with me. We won’t marry, but we’ll be together. See?”
Aria could only shake his head. “Why can’t you love me?”
“I can. I will. It doesn’t have to be complicated. Look.” Hampenstead let Aria go and approached the bedside table. There, he had a document. Aria recognized it. A contract. The same he’d signed for Ellor. “Take this. Read it. And sign it.”
He placed it in Aria’s hands and patted the side of his face. Aria looked into his eyes, through his glasses.
“I’ll treat you right. I-I’ve got much affection for you. You’re the prettiest elf I’ve ever seen.”
Aria’s fingers tightened over the document.
Hampenstead kissed him once on the lips, and Aria didn’t return the gesture. “Sign it when you’ve decided I’m right, and send it to me before Winterend. It expires at midnight that night.”
Aria could feel the magic embedded in the document—assigning over his magic as an adame to Hampenstead. A temporary spell that would vanish, harmless and heartbreaking, if Aria never signed.
“You’re too talented to slum it out at bars, Aria. This is what you were meant to do.”
Aria read and read the document every day leading up to Winterend. The paper grew soft from the number of times he unfolded it.
His soul said no, but that voice had grown muffled as the temperatures plunged in the city, and Aria wanted nothing more than to have a warm body against his.
NOBLE
Damn near everything reminded Noble of Aria. He’d thought two weeks away from him would have softened the memories, but they grew more pronounced, like his soul opted to keep Aria as a ghost if he couldn’t have him in person.
Noble dismounted the horse and handed the reins to the stable boy. The speckled mare he’d ridden looked like Lima. He still loved that name—Lima. Aria’s horse.
Noble rubbed his temples as he climbed the stairs to his room. He heard his mother laughing distantly in her room downstairs as she got ready for the big night. They were going to start with a family dinner and then begin the gala with all the noble guests.
His mother’s voice reminded him: she’d had an adame growing up. He wondered where that elf was today. Had he cared for Noble’s mom, or was it just a job to him? Aria didn’t think the role was romantic in the slightest. That much was clear.
And Noble had begun to agree. He didn’t want Aria to work for him.
He wanted Aria to love him. He closed the door to his room and made his way to the awaiting bath, steaming warm, to clean the day off himself.
Even the bath made him think of Aria, though.
He remembered sitting in his bath at his home in New Hieroph while Aria read The Bard Bride aloud, behind a curtain, and how they’d laughed together at Eleanor’s adventure.
Noble made himself leave the bath. He dried off, donned the formal outfit left for him by Morgan, who was no doubt halfway back to New Hieroph by now for a romantic evening with his fiancee.