Page 42 of Ogres Don't Play
I frowned at him. “No, I don’t understand. Why would some Prince heir run around pretending to be a luthier? Can’t you hire people for that? How could you make instruments like that if you don’t like music?”
“I love music. Rook wrote the piece you played for him, for me, and I sang my part with you.”
He kept repeating, like Rook…Wait! Rook wrote the most obscure, difficult piece of elven music known, well, barely known to man? He’dwrittenit? “You’re a composer? What else did Luthiel Slandriil write? Cantabile for spring? You’re saying that you wrote that too?” It was one of the most popular elven musical pieces for the quartet.
He hesitated, then nodded, lips slightly tilted, like I was amusing him. Of course I was. He was just some prince heir who ran around spying on musicians and then out musicianing them. I stood up and started pacing. Well, if that’s what the ogre prince was, some genius composer and luthier, then maybe me being an ogre wasn’t that big of a deal. Clearly, people just didn’t understand what ogres really were, so all my fear at being an ogre was simply based on a lack of knowledge.
He stood up and moved slowly towards me, eyes gleaming while he studied me. This wasn’t the truth I wanted, no, but it was too late to be picky. I stopped my pacing to stare up at him. “You’re saying that Driver spelled me when I was a child, likeyou’re spelled to become Rook? Am I actually some seven foot tall, green-skinned female?”
“No. The skin, yes, your skin would not be quite so golden, but the shape and size of you were not altered. That would have been an impossible spelling considering children and growth patterns. You should eat more.” He snagged some sushi and held it to my lips.
I mean, it was sushi. I opened my mouth and let him feed me. Rook’s monster form was just as careful and precise as his other one. “I have green skin?”
“Where your skin is most pale, it has a green cast, like a shimmer of pearlescent, not matte like…” he held up his own hand so we could stare at the pale blue.
“I’d think the prince heir’s skin would be darker blue. You’re much paler.”
“The darkness of the green, or blue, does not indicate how much of an ogre he is. It does show the tribe, though.”
“Ah. So, Driver is a different tribe than you?”
“Yes, although his original tribe was absorbed by several others.”
I nodded, like that made sense, but my thoughts were still spinning. “You aren’t Rook.”
“I am, and Rook wrote the song you played, so compellingly, so perfectly, that I could not resist singing my part.”
I stared at him. That was the fourth time he mentioned composing that piece. Why did he think that was important? Wasn’t there some tribe that had some traditions about heart songs? I stumbled away from him while the enormity of the situation lurked around the corners of my mind.
“I played your heart song?” I whispered.
He nodded soberly. “And I could not resist. You played very, very well, Mirabel. I’ve never heard anyone capture every perfect subtle nuance nearly so well as you. And more. You infusedit with emotion from the depths of your heart, your soul, the strength and courage of the angel, the complex dynamics and understanding of the elf, and the raw truth and sincerity of the ogre. You played my heart’s song, and I accepted it.”
My heart was roiling in my chest, like an electric eel had gotten loose in my chest cavity, zapping everything right and left. “Hirtox? That’s your tribe?”
“My mother’s, yes. That’s where I get my good ear. You really have done research.”
“Yes, I was trying to understand the shirt thing.” I stared at him. “I still don’t understand the shirt thing.”
“Many females have worn my clothing in hopes of gaining my heart.”
“Gaining your heart? Sounds like sushi. Goes right to my heart.” I rubbed my own chest while I stared at the sushi boat. “So, you pinned them to the door and bit their necks, like you did to me? To show that they didn’t get your heart?”
“I ran away and tried to keep my clothing in a more secure location.”
“Ah.” I stared at the enormous ogre, who was somehow once again much closer to me than he should be. “You’re afraid of women?”
He nodded soberly. “They are terrifying. One moment you have a political cause that gives you purpose along with music, which gives you pleasure, and then one female starts playing your heart song and your entire world shifts until that one, terrifyingly vulnerable creature is absolutely everything.”
I stared at him. He stared back.
“Um,” I started, but I had no idea what to say. “So, you accidentally got caught up in some tradition that you don’t want? Time to make a new tradition.” I nodded my head firmly.
He smiled. “I am open to any traditions that you would like to make with me.” His low voice was definitely a seductive rumble.Definitely. My one-quarter ogre was in a puddle on the floor, but I had a lot of other conflicting feelings.
Happily, I had other concerns that I couldn’t forget about, however weird things were. “You’ve been using me for propaganda since I was five, so all these attacks on my life are from your enemies?”
He hesitated. “Possibly.”