Page 75 of Ogres Don't Play

“Instruments, naturally.”

He rumbled the sweetest laugh and tucked me even closer, so gently that it didn’t hurt at all. And nothing ever would again.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Having Gavriel wash my hair was basically the most hilarious trauma I’d ever experienced. Rook would have made it something I’d never forget, but Gavriel looked like a cat that had gotten wet, his hair on end as he touched the wet, soapy mess.

“Do goblins melt when they get wet?” I asked, leaning over the basin on the kitchen table. My arm was still bandaged, so I couldn’t get it wet, and my head had started to itch horribly.

“No.”

“Angels?”

“Do you not find it uncomfortable to bathe with another person when you are married?”

I flicked some water at him. He flinched when it landed on his shirt. “It’s not as uncomfortable as my itchy head. I should get some of that new-fangled dry shampoo. Seriously, do goblins not like water?”

He shot me a dark look that went with his frazzled one. In the last few days, since I’d taken the armored angelic train from Angel City to Singsong, it had become glaringly obvious what a bad match the two of us would have made. It was a good therapyfor me, to compare him to Rook and find all the ways we didn’t match up.

“I’m not a goblin,” he said stiffly.

That was technically true, because he was also an angel, archangel, the dark brooding kind I’d found so attractive when I was fifteen.

“Who says I’m talking about you? If I took a spray bottle with me the next time I assault the Goblin fortress, would that be more effective than my use of music?”

“You are mad.” He glared at my head, where he was gingerly patting the shampoo.

“That wasn’t a no.”

He pursed his lips and continued with his recalcitrant shampoo job. “Angels should keep their hair short.”

“Which is why I make such a terrible angel.”

The kitchen door creaked open and Gavriel leapt away from me, like he’d been caught doing something that went against his moral code. Tiago peered in, looking frankly miserable.

“Tiago!” I dunked my head quickly shaking out the suds as well as I could with one hand before I swung my head and hair out, spraying the room in general and Gavriel in particular before I rushed over to Tiago before he could run away. The music hall had been incredibly quiet ever since I got back yesterday. Without the ogres and their constant tap tapping on the walls as well as distant musicians always playing, it was slightly eerie. I’d made sure to put up all the wards around the place, but that elven arrow had gone right through them.

“Mirabel, or is it Miracle?” His pained expression increased by twenty percent.

“Oh, I’m no miracle. I’m the same person you’ve always known. Thank you so much for contacting the elven authorities about the elven assassin.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” I gave him a sharp look then shrugged. “If you say so. You’ve always been the best, most conscientious musician I could have hoped for.”

He blinked again. “Hardly. I only did my barest duty.”

“Nonsense. You’re a dive-in kind of musician. Not afraid to get your hands dirty. Like now, would you please take over for Gavriel? He’s the worst hair washer in the world.”

Gavriel snorted while Tiago got a horrified look on his face. “You wish me to wash your hair? But…” He swallowed hard and then nodded. “So be it. I will do as you ask.” He looked truly miserable at the prospect.

I patted his shoulder with my one good hand. “If you really don’t want to, I’ll keep torturing Gavriel.”

Tiago clenched his jaw and then took a formal position next to the sink. “I will do as you request.”

“Thanks,” I said, bending over so Tiago could work shampoo into my tangled strands. “Tiago, where is everyone? The music hall is practically abandoned.”

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