Page 16 of Zel (The GriMM Tales #2)
Zel gasped, for he could see the hair behind him in the mirror, and it was indeed starting to lift and move.
It followed the motion of Ulrich’s hands on Zel’s wrists, but eventually, it was Zel leading, Zel choosing how to conduct them, somehow able to envision it all, even the parts of his hair he couldn’t see.
Ulrich never released Zel’s hands, even when it was all by Zel’s direction that the movements continued.
“There we are.” Ulrich lowered Zel’s arms, but his touch lingered on Zel’s wrists.
Their eyes met in the mirror before Zel took in the way his bound hair looked from the front.
It was perfect. He reached back to pull his braid over his shoulder, stroking it more to marvel at the intricacies of the design rather than for comfort like he usually might.
“Does it look all right at the back of my head?”
“See for yourself.” Ulrich produced a silver hand mirror that matched the brush.
Zel took it, stood, and turned away from the wall to use the hand mirror to reflect the larger mirror behind him and the full length of his braids twisted into one glorious whole. It looked even better than how his mother had woven it for their trip to the tower. “And I did this? With my magic?”
“I barely had to help at all by the end.” Ulrich smiled more softly than his teasing grin. He looked so handsome in his minimalist clothing. “Eventually, you won’t even need my touch.”
Zel clutched the mirror to his chest. “I very much doubt that, my lord.”
It was flawless double-speak, enough flirtation that Ulrich glanced down Zel’s body and back up to the flush in Zel’s cheeks—a flush Zel didn’t need to fabricate.
Zel worried his bottom lip, holding Ulrich’s gaze, and then tried to hand the mirror back to him.
“Keep it. You already own its partner, and a perfect match should not be separated.”
Perhaps that was flawless double-speak. Zel needed to hold back, draw things out until he knew more, knew enough, but a part of him wished that his two large lies to Ulrich did not have to be so.
“Breakfast?” Ulrich turned to the door. “And then, afterward, shall we take a walk?”
“Through time and memory again, my lord?”
“No. This time, we will be leaving the tower.”
ULRICH
I t seemed Zel had been prepared to be kept like a prisoner, for being led to the tower wall, which parted for them like curtains drawn aside, filled that lovely face with wonder.
Ulrich had reminded Zel to dress for autumn, and while temperature hardly affected Ulrich, he dressed in kind.
He also donned one of his many guises to dull the sparkle of his hair, his skin tone a more even brown rather than tinged with indigo, and his eyes less aglow.
He could have been any free elf out for a stroll with a charming companion on his arm, and it was very much how he had once looked before amassing his power and immortality forever changed him.
Of course, few people went out for casual strolls in this wood, for it was a place traversed only with necessity or ill intent. It meant the forest was quite empty of distraction and rather peaceful most of the time, since Ulrich feared nothing.
“You are staring, Zel,” he said, noting the constant flicks of Zel’s eyes up toward his changed appearance.
“My apologies. You are still handsome, but it is strange to see you muted. This is how you looked in the memories you showed me. Why not look this way all the time if you can?”
“It would be a waste of magic when I am in my own home, and in truth, I rather like that other appearance. It's distinct, boldly declares my power, and is a reminder of all I have become.”
“As well as adds a mystique of ethereal beauty.” Zel smiled, seeming quite genuine with the compliment. “I suppose glamours to trick the eye come easily to you?”
“Do you assume I trick you too?”
“I was raised to take nothing for granted, my lord, and to always assume a smile hides something sinister. For in this world, it usually does. But I believe the version I see of you in the tower is the real you.”
“It is. Although, the truth of someone goes much deeper than what one sees on the surface, does it not?”
Barely a waver of lost confidence betrayed itself on Zel’s face. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Such a talented liar, but lies alone were not enough to condemn Zel. Ulrich had more to learn over the month ahead before he decided Zel’s fate for certain. “Had you been in the wood before your trip to my tower?”
“A few times,” Zel said. “Never unaccompanied, and I never felt quite so at ease in them as I do with you, but an all-powerful immortal does soothe the nerves. Did you have a destination in mind, or shall we—”
“Not that way.” Ulrich blocked the step Zel had been about to take down a path to their left.
“Oh, you can be at ease with me, Zel, but certain territories within this wood are respected between its denizens. No need to stir the wrath of anyone who otherwise leaves me in peace, and I leave them in peace as well.”
Zel peered around Ulrich cautiously, where distantly down that path could be seen a thicker density of trees with a shroud of darkness about them as if no light could penetrate.
Even in autumn, with many of the leaves turning colors and falling at their feet, bare branches themselves were thick enough to hide most of what might be stumbled upon in there, with additional thick and dark fir trees.
For most mortals, to go that direction would not end well.
“The Dark Forest?” Zel whispered.
“I am sure you have heard many tales of it.” Ulrich leaned down to whisper as well. “And yes, nearly all of them are true.” His breath must have been warm on Zel’s skin amidst the cold around them, for gooseflesh prickled the pale skin near where Ulrich exhaled.
“Well then,” Zel said with a shiver, “I certainly do not envy anyone foolish enough to head that way on purpose, unaware of the dangers.”
“Agreed.” Ulrich led them forward instead.
Zel was on his right. Ulrich had not specified it that way, but Zel had naturally gravitated there and held onto Ulrich’s right arm.
Now, leaning a little closer, Zel slid the hand nearest to Ulrich down his arm until their fingers entwined—Ulrich’s blackened and pained ones, and Zel’s soft but strong.
The comfort throughout Ulrich’s usually aching veins was instant.
“Are all denizens of the wood, the Dark Forest in particular, immortal like you?” Zel asked.
“Some, I believe. Others with stipulations. I am not friendly enough with any of them to know all the details.”
“Do any of them know your details?”
“No one knows everything about me, Zel, not even my old apprentice.” That caught Zel’s attention just as Ulrich had intended, but he did not elaborate.
“Am I your new apprentice, my lord?” Zel asked.
“You are more than that as my betrothed.”
“And despite not sharing all your secrets with your apprentice, would you with a bride?”
So very clever , Ulrich thought, as he looked at Zel. “I would.”
“Then might I ask…” Zel brought them to a halt along the path they trod down. “Will you always be this way? Pained by your arm, I mean?” Zel gently squeezed Ulrich’s hand. “There is no way to reverse this curse you bear?”
If Ulrich did not already know Zel planned to betray him, he might have believed the question was borne of genuine concern and curiosity. “There might be,” he admitted, but he had no intention of elaborating on that yet either.
They had reached their destination.
Ulrich darted his eyes into the trees around them.
“My lord?” Zel followed Ulrich’s gaze.
“Sit tight and have no fear,” Ulrich said, lifting Zel’s hand to kiss the chilled and seemingly delicate fingers in his grasp.
“I will let no harm come to you. But we are not alone.” Ulrich tore his grasp from Zel’s and darted into the darkness of thicker trees, leaving Zel, so very lovely and alluring, even bundled against the cold, that any bandit would gladly take the bait.
Ulrich watched from the shadows, having gone the opposite direction from the hiding place of the bandit who was watching them. He had not known exactly where he might find a highwayman in wait, but he knew the most likely places along the paths in the wood where it was dangerous to tread alone.
For mortals, anyway.
Zel spun the correct direction moments before the bandit revealed himself. Ulrich made note of how Zel’s hand jerked, as if reaching for a dagger that wasn’t there. Good instincts. Honed.
“What a fool your escort is to leave such a fragile flower alone,” the bandit said, circling Zel with his own dagger drawn.
Zel’s entire countenance shifted. No longer politely composed and demure, Zel went taut like a wolf ready to spring forth and rip the man to pieces with bare hands and teeth. “You would do yourself a service to walk away,” Zel warned.
“Why would I do that, pretty petal, when your company would be so sweet.” The bandit lunged, but a fire filled Zel’s eyes, and a snarl formed, as if that nickname was especially unwelcome.
The bandit meant to frighten, overpower, and claim—not injure.
Not initially. So Zel easily deflected the first blow, showing off the true skills of a Thieves Guild assassin.
No skirts or long flowing braids could hinder Zel’s fluid and elegant movements.
Being smaller and weaker than the bandit meant little, for Zel was fast and knew exactly how to redirect the bandit’s strength against him.
A second swipe of the bandit’s dagger was deflected, a third, then a fourth came at such a perfect angle that Zel was able to twist the bandit’s arm, spinning him to have his back to Zel and his arm pinned behind him.
The bandit slammed his head back, too tall to strike any part of Zel, but enough disruption for him to break free. Still having hold of his dagger, the bandit turned and launched himself to tackle Zel to the ground.