Page 4 of Noble Charms

Prittey took up the handkerchief and folded it neatly. “See? Everything’s alright. You want to go get a snack? I bet the kitchen’s just bursting with food for everyone right now. If we ask nicely, they may share.”

Noble nodded and slid off the ottoman. He took hold of Prittey’s hand and asked, “You met Sumas once, didn’t you?”

She led the way out the library doors. “I did, along with my brothers. Your dad told you, huh?”

“Was Elys there?”

She laughed again. “Yeah, actually. He was.”

Noble nodded. “If they’re here, instead of in their own home, I hope they’re together. They should be.”

“Well, if they were in love, I hope so too.”

Noble nodded, more confident now. “They were in love. I just know it.”

Noble and Aunt Prittey carried on down the hall, toward the scent of fresh rolls, cooked onion, and candied fruit.

PART I: THE EARLY YEARS

1

AN UNTRAINED HEIR

ARIA

Other fresh grads moving out of Argosin University clogged the streets with enormous steamer trunks and many doting parents with their own buggies and carriages. Aria guided his enchanted, wheelless coach down a spring-damp cobblestone path, between the towering brownstone dormitories, navigating the sea of strangers and a handful of familiar faces—(“Good morrow, Elizabeth. Lovely to see you. Must be going!”)—all whilst the hands of his pocket watch tick-tick-ticked against his heart.

A long carriage ride was all that remained between Aria and his destiny.

His soul was certain of it, even if his head was not. All his life, he’d heard whispers within himself: go west. Find him. And he was ready to make the journey to where he belonged. A bard in New Hieroph City.

He did belong there, in the urbane sprawl, didn't he? He was never meant to stay in his tiny little village with more sheep than people. His magic, his beauty—these were gifts destined for greater things. Four years of bardic training at university had made him ready. Supposedly.

As Aria approached the designated corner where he was meant to meet Lord Noble Yves St. Clair, the watch’s ticking felt more like thunder. Gods be swift. He was more nervous now than he’d been during his final exam last week.

How would he find one human man among such a number of them? They’d never met despite both attending the University of Argosin in the same graduating class, and Aria knew little of the human monarchy. Weren’t they red-haired? He couldn’t recall. Aria knew the man was human, yes, but humans came in a dizzying array of colors and sizes, considering most were part giant. A shame this Lord Noble hadn’t been an orcish noble instead—Aria was acquainted with their iconic silver skin.

Aria’s mounting fears were soon dispelled, because he found Lord Noble Yves with terrible ease. His soul spoke again, and it was no gentle whisper this time. That’s him.

Near the corner of the stained-glass walls of the library building, at the end of the oak-lined street, two figures writhed in visible passion. One was an elven woman, slight in form like most elves, with long white hair. The other was a human man—well over six feet tall with long brown-black hair and skin so golden copper that it looked as if he glowed from the inside out. His large, many-ringed fingers fastened upon the woman’s behind over her layered skirts.

As he approached the lovers, Aria held his breath, as if their desire could somehow be contagious. The two moaned and panted and whispered to one another, oblivious to his approach. He looked between the kissing pair and confirmed that the woman in question was his childhood friend, Sylvia. Which meant this human was him.

Him, said Aria’s soul.

One day ago, when Sylvia learned Aria planned to leave Argosin for New Hieroph City, she’d squealed that the timing was divine. Her boyfriend had complained about taking the train across the kingdom and was stranded. His royal status required a reserved car, and he’d have to wait a month’s time for his trip for the arrangements, and he was despondent. Aria agreed to help. Such a dear friend you are, said Sylvia, but that hadn’t been the truth of it.

Aria’s fears—nay, terror—of moving to New Hieroph meant he was the one benefiting from the arrangement. This St. Clair grew up in the city. Having him as a guide would be a remarkable boon. Assuming, of course, that they got on.

This golden, handsy, towering human man was the Honorable Lord Noble Yves St. Clair, Son of Earl Something-something, Twelfth Heir to His Majesty the King Agolde’s Throne, the Great Ninth Son Child of the Sun God.

That’s him. That’s him.

“I love you so much,” Sylvia said against Noble’s lips.

Aria’s calm mask slipped off his nose as it curled in disgust. Startled at his own reaction, he squared his shoulders and took a breath.

“I love you,” Lord Noble Yves muttered in return, hands still squeezing through her many layers of linen skirts. “And this. I love this a lot.” His fingers tightened as Sylvia giggled and squirmed. “I’ll miss it deeply.”