Page 45 of Ogres Don't Play

“Protect. HARPs safe. You leave. Not safe.”

I stared at her. “Oh. Right, because someone else was hunting me down. Really? Even then?”

She shrugged and picked up a piece of bacon in her large, yet talented, fingers. “Eat.”

I opened my mouth, because there was no other option, then I sat up because it was so good, and I was suddenly starving. I took a bite, chewed, swallowed, then asked, “And Driver tracked me to Singsong City?”

“Arrook. Heard story. Crazy musician.”

I nodded like that made sense, because it did. I’d been keeping my position here pretty low-key, and it had been cut off from the music guild, but musicians did talk. Coming here like I did had been crazy, but I’d taken the falling-down building and turned it into a functioning hall, even before Rook found me and put his stone artisans to work on it. I ate every last bite, and finally, Lanise nodded like I’d done something right.

“Where is he?”

Her eyes widened. “He?”

I cocked my head and studied her. “You know, Arrook. The guy who took a poisoned elven arrow in his back last night.”

“Not last night. Last week.”

I gasped before throwing back the blankets and scrambling out of bed. I was wearing my nightshirt. The pun one. “Last week?! I can’t sleep for a week! I have the jubilee to prepare!”

She stared at me, then shrugged. “Then not use big magic.”

“It wasn’t that big.”

“Was that big,” she contradicted.

“No, it wasn’t! I just incinerated the elven arrow and made Arrook puke.”

She stared at me for a minute, then shrugged. “Then you not sleep week. Only day.”

I frowned at her. “I only slept for a day?”

She shrugged and turned away, apparently irritated with me and herself for bothering to use so many words on our argument. I dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of pants and a kimono to go over the nightshirt, since I couldn’t find anything else.

I expected Yaga to attack me when I came out, but she wasn’t in the small sitting room outside my bedroom, or the hall outside. Lanise followed me down the spiral stairs and into the kitchen, where Tiago was leaning against the counter, strumming his lute.

He straightened up when he saw me. “Mirabel! I thought that you’d sleep through the Jubilee entirely.”

I grabbed a roll and various slices of cold cuts before I said, “Has it really been a week?”

“No,” Lanise said at the same time Tiago nodded. He gave her a curious look. “A week yesterday night. This morning will make eight days. She said you weren’t injured, but what kind of magic did you use that knocked you out for so long?”

“I burned an eleven arrow and made someone puke. That’s all.”

Lanise snorted.

Tiago looked between me and her before scrunching his fluffy brows and leaning close. “You burned an elven arrow? Did it happen to be sticking out of an ogre’s back? Was an ogre the one you made retch up poison?”

I shrugged and stuffed my makeshift sandwich into my mouth.

He continued with a frown of concern. “Ogres don’t respond well to light magic. Forcing one to respond to light magic would be a great task, indeed, particularly if the ogre in question was, ahem, Magr.”

I frowned at him. He’d been shifty about what to call him. Did he know that the prince heir was Rook the Luthier? Impossible. No, actually, Tiago could know any number of things that he never mentioned. Elves were like that when they weren’t trying to assassinate you for being related. Come to think of it, I really didn’t understand much about elves.

I made another roll and meat sandwich and then turned to Lanise. “Where is he? Arrook.” I added when I remembered the way she’d hedged.

Tiago answered easily. “Rook is in the organ hall. Are you going to tell him that you’ve shifted your affection to Magr? I suggest that you wait until after he’s repaired the organ. We’re going to have a fine concert to kick off the Jubilee. I hope you don’t mind, but I arranged…well, Rook probably arranged it first, but he lets me pretend that my efforts had something to do with the great organist Balry coming here to play our organ.”

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