I stop, bowing my head. Soon, I am going to have to make a difficult choice. But for now, I will indulge in Ivy’s company for just a little longer. That human ismine,and if anyone says otherwise, then I’ll tear them apart.
The front door of Bannog’s shop crashes open, and I reel back, unsheathing my claws. Bannog gets to his feet.
“Bannog! Where the bloody hell are ye?”
We both flinch at Stannog’s grating tone, and I turn to Bannog. I didn’t know he was even coming today.
The ogre sighs regrettably. “Well, well, if it isn’t my lovely cousin. I wasn’t expecting him till midnight. We were going to deck the tree in boughs of holly…”
That’s when I spy the fir tree bejewelled with various trinkets in the corner of his lounge. It's best I leave. I’m not too fond of Yule. I abandoned all that pure, childhood wonder the day I left the farm.
“Does he know how to knock?” I gripe, slipping my claws back inside my gloves. I’m pretty sure Bannog’s front door is destroyed now.
“Stannog?Knock?” Bannog guffaws at the preposterous thought, then proceeds to make another pot of tea.
Stannog stomps towards the lounge like a rampaging giant, but his next words stop me in my tracks.
“I know the little git’s here. Who does he think he is, bringing that dung girl to the village on the night of the festival?”
Dung girl?My heart thumps, and then my claws make their appearance again. It looks like blood is about to be spilled after all.
The door to Bannog’s lounge flies open, and there’s no mistaking the blonde inside the arms of the ogre.
“Let me go!” she cries, kicking and screaming, but then her voice fades the moment a deathly snarl slips from my throat.
Now my world is dripped in black as I zero in on Stannog. The bastard. Hehurther…
The ogre drops her at my feet, and she peers up at me meekly, bottom lip shaking. “T-Tegwyn.”
Yet I only have eyes for Stannog.
“What did youdoto her?” I breathe, widening my stance as I prepare to attack.
Ivy gasps when she spies my unsheathed claws, and then her face pales five shades lighter.
The ogre scoffs when he sees my pitiful stance. “I saved her life, that’s what happened. If I hadn’t stepped in on time, she’d be dead. Ye shoulda seen her, staring at the king’s statue like she had a death wish!”
My lip twitches, and then I expose my teeth. “That better be true or—”
Stannog caws like a crow. “Or what? You’ll slice me up with your claws?”
I snicker, eyes flashing like warning beacons. “Don’t tempt me…”
I don’t look away from the spiteful ogre, so at odds with his kind cousin. The bastard has always had it out for me, ever since I arrived at his doorstep at the age of fifteen. And then I had the gall to bring a human to his shitty tavern, one that’s in serious need of repair, might I add.
Finally, Bannog gives a dramatic sigh, falling back on his wingback chair. “All this yelling is making me thirsty. How about we all sit down and discuss our grievances likecivilbeings?”
Ivy glances at Bannog curiously, and when he catches her gaze, he waves. “Why, hello, darling. My, you’re even prettier than your posters.”
He chuckles warmly, then proceeds to pour that steaming honey-gold tea into not two, butfourcups.
I don’t think Ivy is in any fit state to have tea with the likes of Stannog just yet. She’s still cringing in terror, sensing that raw, angry energy rippling from the big brute in waves. Ogres are legendary in human folklore; I bet she has heard many tales, ones that involve human babies and using their bones as toothpicks.
While some of those stories may be true, I don’t think Stannog has ever feasted on a human infant. He's a bastard, sure, but he’s not a complete brute.
Then there’s Bannog, who knits tea cosies and bakes sweet biscuits—I just hope his ingredients don’t involve the ground-up bones of children.
Stannog puffs out his chest when I finally look away, focusing on Ivy this time. I should have known she would’ve followed me. After all, I can’t tell a lie to save my goddamn life. Now she is surrounded by enemies on all sides, and I close my eyes, gripping the bridge of my nose.
