The living area flowed into a kitchen without walls; only a shift in flooring from warm wood to slate showed its shift in purpose. The kitchen counters were pale stone and spotless, with a bowl of fruit arranged so perfectly I suspected the whole thing was fake. A closer examination confirmed the fruit was indeed ceramic. Who did that? What was the point of fake fruit?
There was a wine rack built into the wall, and every bottle looked like it cost more than my weekly grocery shop.
The mer prince was a man with fine taste, but the apartment felt … cold, and that had to do with more than the running air conditioning.
A single glass sat on the counter, upended and bone dry. No other dishes. No clutter. No evidence of the man who lived here or the imposter who had swept through. No helpful posters setting out ‘Jingo’s evil six-point plan’, which I hadn’t expected but would have welcomed all the same.
The property reminded me of a hotel suite, the kind you slept in but didn’t live in. There were no books, no knick-knacks from travelling. Everything was sterile. Top of the line but sterile.
I walked slowly, eyes scanning.
No shoes by the door. No jacket thrown over a chair. No evidence of any letters, no spam mail. Perhaps he had a mail slot downstairs. I’d have to check at the reception desk.
‘It’s nicely done, but it’s not very lived-in,’ Robbie commented.
‘No, it’s not,’ I agreed. For all Robbie had fine things at the den, it was anything but cold. Everything was layered texture and inviting.
The den. I couldn’t stop picturing it in my mind and comparing this place to that.
‘The den is nice,’ I blurted. ‘Are we expected to live there?’
Apparently the topic had been hovering in the ‘to-be-discussed soon’ column for too long, and my brain had shoved it firmly into ‘now’.
Robbie licked his lips, and I appreciated his show of nerves, because the king of the ogres had a poker face that could see him win the World Poker Tour, if he were so inclined. So he was letting me see his nerves, just like the pottery-related tension earlier. I’d asked him to let me in and he was. Truly. Perhaps the pottery revelation had made me see him more clearly too.
‘I’ve been planning to raise that issue,’ he admitted, shifting his weight. ‘I would like us to live together, yes. In ogre culture that doesn’t happen until marriage, which is why I’ve been making sure to spend one or two nights at the den, lest I be accused of an infraction. But an ogre king must reside in a den – for his protection and to offer protection too. The most vulnerable reside on denproperty. Older ogres and children. As such, there must be warriors there at all times.’
‘Okay.’ I let that settle in. I hadn’t seen anyone old or especially young at the den’s blessing. Had they been deliberately absent? The vulnerable hidden away while the rest put on a show of strength?
The ogre kingmustlive in a den. So that’s that then. ‘So, we have no choice.’ I tried to keep emotion out of my voice as I stated the obvious.
He snorted. ‘There are always choices, Inspector. You know that. You just have to find them.’
‘You just said the ogre kingmustreside at a den.’
‘Yes, but we could start our own den, a far smaller one. Or …’ He paused. ‘We could change my status.’
My heart pounded. I needed to be a hundred percent clear on this. ‘What do you mean? What are you suggesting, Robbie?’
He shrugged like it was no big deal. Like we weren’t talking about him abdicating for me. ‘I arrange for someone to challenge me for leadership. Not a to-the-death challenge, but perhaps unconsciousness. I let them win. I walk away as another ordinary ogre, and you and I live wherever the fuck we want, however the fuck we want.’
That was a lot to unpack. For a beat, it was tempting, really tempting. But he had never once asked me to give up my role for him, and I would never dream of asking him to do that for me.
For both of us, our jobs weren’t just employment; theydefinedus. Asking him to give up his crown would fracture something within him, and I’d never want that for him.
I shook my head before my brain had fully processed his words, but the instinctual reaction didn’t feel wrong. I could picture him storming into Quintos’s ball like an avenging angel, rage and power rolling off him.
If he removed his crown for me, if he lessened himself for me – all because I didn’t want to live in a commune – he’d resent me. Not right away, but surely one day.
Besides, he was agoodking. A good man. He deserved to lead.
And I found I wasn’t so against the idea of living in the den as I might have been months ago. It was a big step and a little intimidating, but I’d never been one to shy away from a challenge.
‘I’ll move into the den with you,’ I said. ‘The current one. Not a fake little one that will cause more political problems for you.’
He closed his eyes, and the tension drained out of him in a rush. His shoulders slumped, and he whispered, ‘Thank you.’
‘Of course. But you should know, I only love you for your crown,’ I teased. ‘I can’t have you giving it away for me or the attraction will surely fade.’
