Page 51 of Ogres Don't Play

“You’ve been angry. My betrothed is old. Very old. I haven’t met her. I assumed that she would die before I took the throne, but I see now that I should have focused on finding a different solution.”

“She wants to be the ogre queen?”

He frowned, then nodded. “It would be very beneficial for her and her people.”

“Can you break it off without bringing on a big war?”

He studied me for a long time before he shrugged and glanced away. “Perhaps. I haven’t applied myself to a solution. She was very aggressive when I was young, so I was sure she’d get herself killed biting off more than she could chew, particularly after our world merged with yours, but she settled down to wait.”

“How wise of her. It’s not like you were looking for someone to sing your heartsong.”

“I was not.”

I nodded and glanced away, willing myself not to burst into tears from hearing that he wasn’t looking for love, didn’t want to sing that duet with me. “We should go in.”

“The balcony would be ideal. Come.” He took my hand and urged me towards the small stairs behind a door that I’d forgotten about.

His hand felt so perfectly right around mine. I stared at that hand, the way it swallowed me whole. I should have pulled away, but instead, I let him take me to the balcony. It was small, private, and it overlooked the organ with an extremely good view.

Tiago was standing at the front, where I should be, and he smiled and bowed when he saw me and Arrook.

“We must give a big thanks to the Music Master for hosting the Jubilee, as well as Rook the Luthier for sponsoring the event.”

I waved at him and smiled down at the audience, impressed at how many people there were. They must have come in the side entrance while I was worried about greeting Balry properly. Who had directed them that way? I glanced at Rook. Driverhad organized so many fine details like directions to each major event, including parking. There was very limited parking in Sing.

Once everyone had clapped for us, we sat down, like I’d done at so many events as the Commander’s precious Miracle.

I was too tense sitting next to Rook the Luthier, feeling all these awful things in my chest. “I guess we could keep it casual,” I said.

“Beg your pardon?”

I shifted in my seat, crossing my arms so I wouldn’t touch him. My fingers buzzed with wanting, like he was a gorgeous new harp I hadn’t touched yet. “I’m not a pureblood angel. There’s no real reason to follow old traditions in regards to old feuds between angels and ogres. We can have a professional relationship, from one propaganda poster to a stone worker luthier.”

He touched my shoulder, the barest touch that sent fire through me. Heavenly fire, because that touch was heavenly. “Or you could toy with the pretty ogre and his pretty tusks until you find a real match to settle down with permanently.”

I shook my head. He made it sound like Belry had put it, females going nuts over him because of how he looked. “I don’t have any plans for permanent…I thought I was betrothed when I was younger, to a very good man, but he knew what I was, and rightly informed me that we were not well suited. I can’t imagine any other lion would feel differently.”

He growled, low and delicious, sending shivers down my spine. “He’s a fool. Your blood burns with heavenly fire. You are more than a match to any who…” He frowned suddenly and glanced over the balcony, searching out the crowd below. I followed his gaze and found my brother and Gavriel surrounded by goblins.

Rook frowned at me. “Unless his blood was less than heavenly. Goblin blood would be a problem. You planned to marry the archangel?”

I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but if Gavriel actually had goblin blood, that was life-altering. “He had the most interesting voice, and such a mysterious aura. He was always stern, but kind. Once he even hid me when my brother was looking for me. Rich used to tease me mercilessly.”

“Yes, your brother’s very annoying.”

I grinned at him. “He is, but it’s mostly for show.”

“It’s very convincing.”

I laughed and squeezed his hand. “I’m not going back to my father, at least not if I can help it. If you can’t help being betrothed to someone else, then what else is there?”

He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “You played my heartsong, and I accepted it.”

“So, I’m supposed to be your what, exactly? And then when the king passes on, how can I accept someone else possessing you?”

He frowned at me, then his troubled expression cleared as he focused on the organist who had entered to loud cheers and applause. “Perhaps you will tire of me by then.”

“Rook the Luthier and Luthiel Slandriil? Perhaps if you were only one of them, but both? Impossible. It’s not only that, but your voice, this one, and the other, I could never tire of either.”

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