Page 78 of Ogres Don't Play

My grandfather nodded at me, his ageless beauty shimmering subtly, making the grand music master feel underdressed, undergunned, and underwhelming. “I am here for the princess’s crowning. I’ve been working on the perfect piece.” He pulled a gorgeous, delicately ornate crown out of his sleeve and held it so it caught the light mesmerizingly.

“But…” Georfus sputtered, looking from my grandfather to the fallen princess. “The Princess is dead.”

“What dead princess? I only see my own lovely granddaughter looking like she should be recuperating in a bed being waited on hand and foot rather than washing the kitchen floors.”

The ogre king snorted and pulled a crown out of thin air. “That crown looks like a stiff breeze would blow it away. She needs something solid, something that can actually take a blow or two.” His crown did look sturdy, also like it would break my neck. It also wasn’t what I’d call pretty, more like a helmet missing chunks.

The elven emperor frowned at the ogre king. “Her crown is fit for an elven princess.”

“But she’s the ogre princess.”

“And you want to break her neck?”

“I want to break yours.”

That’s when Rook showed up, plucked both crowns out of the air and tucked them under his arm, making both of them vanish.

“Finally, someone sane,” I muttered.

Rook cleared his throat, glancing at me. He was so handsome, Magr, Rook, it didn’t matter. He was Magr, though, and wasn’t quite as large as the ogre king.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a low rumble that went to my bones.

I nodded and beamed at him. “Of course I am now that you’re here. How was the troll war?”

“Too long. I’ve missed you.”

My heart panged and fire spread through me while a familiar aching happiness chased away every other thing.

The ogre king snorted and stepped aside with an elegant gesture so Rook could take his place at the counter. He slipped his arms around my waist and leaned his forehead against mine, inhaling deeply my scent while I reciprocated.

“Next war, I’m going too,” I declared, rubbing my nose on his silky cheek. He felt so good. And so did I when we were together.

“No, you’re going to jail!” the repetitious elven music master decreed.

I peered around Rook to frown at him. “No, I’m actually not. I have the backing of the Holy Order of the Swords of Truth. My brother is a lion. If you have a problem with my position here as Music Master, the one who single-handedly dragged it back from the abyss you were happy to push it into, then you can address him with your grievances. He’ll be happy to show you the error of your ways.”

My grandfather cleared his throat. “She also has the backing of the golden lands.” He gave me a slight nod. “If you need more teachers, as well as funding for a school, I would be happy to help.”

All of a sudden, elves weren’t so bad.

The ogre king coughed. “And she’s got Rook the Luthier on constant retainer. What other music hall can boast of that, hm?”

One of the Gray society officers got a call and raised his phone to his ear. His eyes widened and he glanced at his friends and then nodded and edged out of the room, leaving the Grand Music Master alone. No, the plaid guy was still there, leaning against a counter and eating an eggroll, but I didn’t get the idea he was actually on the Grand Music Master’s side. More like he was watching an interesting show.

The Grand Music Master sputtered one last time and then eyed me narrowly. “It seems you have wiggled your way out of your just desserts this time. Next time you step out of line, the hammer will fall.”

“Excuse me?” I said, scowling at him. “No, actually, you’re going to pay back payment for all the taxes Singsong has been sending your guild for the upkeep of Singsong City since I’ve been here. You’re also going to watch yourself. If I smell a hint of corruption from your direction, I’ll bring war to you.”

He stared at me, and finally, a flicker of fear and awe went through his eyes. “No. You’re not the angel. The one who…”

Rich walked in, golden wings outstretched and draped an arm around the elf’s shoulders, making him gasp and go pale. “She’s an angel, all right. The one who. Maybe you should hurry home and arrange those payments before she decides she’d like me to escort you. I’m the lion she was talking about. And I’m very hungry.”

The elf clenched and unclenched his jaw several times before he gave me a stiff bow. “I see that the Singsong Music Hall is in good hands. Welcome to the guild, Music Master Miracle.”

“It’s Mirabel, but thanks,” I said.

Then Rook scooped me up and carried me out of the kitchen, past the fallen princess-murderer, and out into the cool, quiet hall.

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