Page 37 of Noble Charms

“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.”