5. A Good Start #2
“On whether or not he loved her. If he did, then yes. That's worse than what happened with El.” Romy appraised him silently. For long enough that Aria said, “What is it?”
“You really think you're okay?”
Aria shrugged. “Truly. I feel—” Him. It’s him. His chest ached with some kind of…yearning. He placed a hand over his heart.
“What is it?” Romy asked.
“I know not.” Aria exhaled and forced his feet to turn around, away from the Arbor Bookshop. “Let’s go find a quiet place for me to soothe my embarrassment.”
They made it a few steps before the headline of the Gotham Gossiper caught Aria’s attention.
The cover was divided into two major stories.
The first came from the Northern Isles—some scandal regarding the orc dynasty.
The piece featured a portrait of a handsome orc knight, kneeling before an orc princess. FRIEND OR FOE TO PRINCESS CESMINA?
The second story was titled simply IGNOBLE NOBLE.
And beneath it, an unmistakable portrait of a man Aria knew.
His hair was different yet again—shorter but wild with curls, and instead of his quintessential grin, Noble wore a frown and a jester hat hanging from a crooked crown.
The subheadline read: The Prince Yves—No Longer an Earl, but a Royal Disgrace.
Aria spun back to face the bookshop at the same moment Noble Yves St. Clair turned his way, and they met eyes from across the cobbled pavers and side-eyeing crowd. And then there was no crowd, no street, no Romy at his side.
There was Aria, and there was Noble, alone.
Together again, thanks to fate. Him, sighed Aria’s soul in relief. “Noble,” said Aria, breathing out the name in shock.
“Noble…? Is that—?” Romy’s voice at Aria’s side snapped him out of that temporary space. The noise and bustle of the street came back to Aria, and his face went hot.
Noble bowed his head as he approached. “Hello, Aria. How do you do?”
Romy’s big blue eyes went from Noble to Aria and back again. She glanced at the newsprint near Aria’s side—the one emblazoned with Noble’s portrait. She snatched the paper up, pulling it out of view, and said, “Pardon me!” before scampering away, to the other side of the newsstand.
Noble smiled, and he looked different. It wasn’t just his hair, or his face—though his beard was darker, and had been struck through with a few strands of white, making him look… Well, five years older. The smile, though, carried something new. A sadness. An exhaustion.
They'd stood there in silent tension for long enough that people on the street continually slowed down to observe them both before politely moving along.
Aria found his voice. “Noble. Hello.”
“Aria,” Noble said, eyes glassy. His voice was coarse as he asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to buy V. Rose’s newest work, but.” He looked at the door, at the doorman, and shook his head. “It seems I’m not welcome.”
Noble’s smile grew bright. More familiar, now.
“You? What could you have possibly done?” Noble tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers and examined Aria's face. Perhaps he looked for changes the way Aria had done already. He had no beard to go gray—most elves grew no body hair, no matter their age—but his blond hair had grown almost absurdly long. “You’re as proper as ever.”
Aria said, “You only say that because you’ve not heard the latest. You’re no doubt avoiding the gossip rags at the moment.”
“I avoid them always,” said Noble. He groaned and stretched his shoulders back. “But quite right. I am avoiding them, especially now.”
“I understand. My condolences on your divorce. And for all the gossip about it.”
Noble sighed, dropping his shoulders back. “Part of the job, I suppose.” His eyes traveled down Aria's hair, which fell loose across the front of his light autumnal trench coat, single-breasted and gold-brown. “Lucky you've not married. You wouldn't have to suffer through something like this.”
Aria dropped his stare to his tight bootlaces and said, “I don't know that I'd use the word lucky.”
“I'm surprised Ellor hasn't proposed, I guess. You've been together for some time.”
Aria's gaze drifted to Noble's boots. They were black and gleaming, and his trouser's hem fell perfectly at length. Aria was going to miss having access to a duke's tailoring. He could see no way to avoid saying it. “Ellor and I have finished. Two days ago, in fact.”
“Wait. Then…” Noble's voice caught, and Aria looked up to see his eyes wide in surprise.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Aria glared, taking a half-step closer. “What's that look?”
Noble's brows rose ever higher. “What look?”
“The one on your face,” Aria said. Noble's eyes filled with a great many thoughts all at once, before he laughed.
“Are you and Ellor that pair Morgan told me about? I'm just putting the pieces together now. You’re the bard that sent a noble flying down a set of stairs.”
Aria could feel his cheeks fill with color for the second time. “It was two steps, and he was caught before he even hit the ground. It’s a bit of a dramatic retelling.”
“Violence. From you? It seems impossible to my memory.”
“It has been five years. Things have changed.” But not that. It was true that he was not a violent man. Aria hadn't been himself at that moment, with Ellor on the steps.
Noble said, “Is that what we do, then? See each other once every five years? Should we board a ferry for this one?”
Aria didn't fight the smile. It was perhaps the first genuine grin he'd donned in days.
Before he could say anything, Noble’s horn-bearer friend reappeared at his side. He raised the book—The Bard Bride—for Noble to take. “It’s not one of the signed copies. I figured you wouldn’t care.”
“No matter. Thank you, Morgan. Morgan, do you remember Aria Charms?”
Morgan bowed his head once as a greeting, but took a long step away from them both. “I’m heading back to the guildhouse. Enjoy your book, Noble.”
Noble read the back of the book aloud: “To those who have started again. And again. And again. Hm.” He flipped through the pages and held it for Aria to take. “This is meant to mend a broken heart, right? Here.”
Aria raised his hands. “No, Noble. I couldn’t. Your friend got it for you.”
“I can get another.”
Aria took the novel into one hand and said, “You needn’t be generous out of pity.” And then he held it back out for Noble to take.
Noble’s grin was childish and bright. “We can discuss it over dinner. Come on. It's tradition—we need to talk for at least a few hours, do we not? And then we can part ways, like we do, with loathing in our hearts.”
Aria took in the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the slightly worn edge of his smile, and knew he couldn't say no. “Fine. We’ll decide who has the more broken heart. They can keep the book.”
Noble held out a hand to shake. “Deal.”
Oh. Deja vu arrested Aria. Him, him, him, his soul chanted. Aria hesitated—but only for a moment—then slid his palm into Noble's. And, all at once, the magic heat that radiated from within Noble soothed Aria's nerves, and he was inexplicably reminded of home.
NOBLE
Noble had begun to explain his choice of restaurant—he knew the chef from his Men's Club, and the chef would put them on the private patio, allowing the two of them to avoid the public gaze, and also they made great pasta—but Aria laughed at his concern. “I’ve been wanting to try this place anyway. I should thank you for giving me the chance.”
“Ellor didn’t take you to restaurants?”
“No,” said Aria, stiffly, and his shame seemed like a personal rain cloud casting a shadow over his small, pretty head.
“I apologize,” said Noble. “Let’s not discuss it.”
“I wish I could avoid discussing Ellor for the rest of my life. I'd do a full mourner's year, if I could.” Aria smiled in a way Noble recognized as a prim mask hiding darker thoughts.
“You may speak with me about it, if you want. About any of it—Ellor. The restaurants, or lack thereof. Or maybe we could speak of easier things. Whatever you’d like.
” Noble wanted to know every little detail.
He craved knowledge of the last five years of Aria’s life.
What had it been like, being an adame? How did he feel about his pursuit of love, now?
But Noble recognized the hurt in him. Noble carried the same pain.
“We can sit in perfect silence if that’s what you need. ”
Aria's face fell. He looked off to one side, and a strand of his sunspot hair fell over his face. Ten years of growth had made him even more beautiful than the years before. Noble wasn’t the only one who noticed, either—
The Maitre D that sat them had stared in awe and Aria didn’t notice, and looked back at their table as he walked away, and smacked his shoulder on the courtyard doorway as he left.
Aria had always been striking, but the remnants of baby fat that lingered in his face had surrendered to his smooth, pronounced cheekbones, and he sat with shoulders relaxed these days. The taut string within him had grown loose. It was a good look.
Quietly, Aria said, “I was kicked out of the guild. I’m no adame. And no bard. I cannot even buy books in town right now. I don’t know what else there is to say. I’ve ruined my life.”
Noble realized he'd been gazing starry-eyed at Aria like he was a doll on display, and he winced at the reality: Aria was dealing with hard times, and the last thing he needed was some odd man from his past scrutinizing his beauty like a wizard marvels upon their orb. “It certainly cannot be that bad.”