Ogres Don't Play: An Urban Fantasy Romantic Comedy by Juliann Whicker

Author:Juliann Whicker [Whicker, Juliann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Thirteen

Iwoke up feeling sluggish and weary, like I’d harnessed vast amounts of war magic the day before. After a battle, it was good to sit in a window seat in the sunshine with a harp and play and recuperate, but I didn’t have that luxury because the war had only begun.

I dressed in my elven light armor, which was as clean and crisp as the first time I’d put it on. I pulled a kimono over it, because I was the music master, not some elven princess who was too prissy to eat sausage rolls with her fingers. Today I was hunting down an archangel.

I shook my head while I secured my harp on my shoulder, then patted Yaga where she roosted on the vanity post. “Wish me luck, Yaga. Not that I’ll need it.”

She opened one eye and then shut it. Yeah, that’s what I get for having a chicken sidekick.

I went out and almost tripped over Lanise who was sitting on the floor, legs outstretched, harp on her lap. She glared up at me, taking in my armor and outfit. “Stay. Teach. Safe day.”

I leapt lightly over her legs. “I’d love to have a safe day, but I need to hang the fliers in Song for the Jubilee. Tiago should have them ready. Maybe you should intern with him so that you can learn such essential skills as poster making.”

She snorted and rolled to her feet, gripping the harp like it was a weapon. She’d clearly used more than her fair share of weapons over the years. “Why not tired? Big magic. Big sleep.”

“I slept so well. Thank you so much for your concern, but I’m fine.” Particularly since I wasn’t going to do big magic for at least a month. I hurried to the stairs and went down quickly, then stopped abruptly at the bottom when I saw the ogre with white eyes in his extremely scarred face.

He bowed to me, then gestured towards the back door. “Car.”

“Ah. Lanise told you that I was going to the city,” or he was going to take me back to Rook again. I definitely didn’t have time for him when he wouldn’t answer any of my questions and would distract me with his pretty tusks. “What can I call you?” He had a lot of names, and I’d hate to use one that he found offensive, like, ‘Curse,’ or ‘Plague.’

He smiled, twisting his scarred face and showing off one broken-off tusk. “Driver.”

Well, that would work. “How fitting. Well, Driver, I want to stop by the respectable shops in Song and post my call for the Jubilee while Tiago takes care of Sing.”

“You in Sing. He in Song.”

“He has too much elven blood to go into Song by himself. He’ll accidentally go into war mode and kill everyone I’m trying to recruit.”

He blinked at me. “You war mode.”

I laughed and patted his arm like he wasn’t the most terrifying thing ever. “You’re too funny. I never apply more pressure than is necessary.

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