Page 22 of Zel (The GriMM Tales #2)

Eight

ZEL

S ometimes, Zel would look out toward the kingdom of Hallin before bed and spot the shadow of Ulrich walking into the wood for who knew what—likely for a soul or possibly to hunt game, since they never went without meat each day.

Sometimes, Zel would see Ulrich catch his prey around the perimeter of the grounds when some foolish bandit came upon the tower—or if a deer did.

Sometimes, Ulrich would even look up, and rather than ducking out of view like the first time, Zel would smile, imagining that Ulrich smiled back at him, even if he couldn’t see Ulrich’s face clear enough in the dark.

Whenever Zel spotted Ulrich outside the tower like that, he would take to his bed imagining the sorcerer ascending and climbing in through the window to join him.

He never did. He never snuck into the washroom either, and Zel believed Ulrich did not watch him while there or in his bedchamber, or he would have already known Zel’s secret.

One of them anyway.

Zel had learned many things in the subsequent days since the tale of The Bard and the Fairy Prince .

He continued to keep Ulrich’s interest and continued to feel interest of his own, much as it pained him when he remembered his true goal.

Most interesting, at least for Zel’s mission, had been a couple nights after Ulrich shared that favored love story.

They had dined together for the evening meal, but later into the night, they had still not left the dining hall. The wine flowed, more than any night before, as discussion turned to each of their first teachers.

Ulrich talked of the first person to teach him magic beyond the minimal amount he had been born with—thankfully not the same as the one whose soul sealed the magical book on the main room’s shelf—and Zel reminisced not of his parents but of a different teacher, one who had taught him the basics with the blade before his parents honed those skills.

Sadly, she passed away during a mission.

“Mission?” Ulrich had inquired.

“Um… we call any order for a particular theft a mission.” Which wasn’t a lie, but it was if implying Helga had died from anything other than a failed assassination.

Ulrich eyed Zel with a glassy haze.

A drunken haze.

“My first teacher did not stay long enough for me to know her fate,” Ulrich said.

“A traveler through our kingdom. She was ravishing. Not the most beautiful person I have known, mind you,” he added with a fixed stare on Zel’s face, “but if ever in my past I could have given up my ambitions for love, she might have earned it and turned me from my path.”

“Just as the bard saved the prince?” Zel referenced Ulrich’s favorite tale, though not without a stir of jealousy, even if that teacher had only been a potential love for Ulrich.

Surprised as he had been to learn Ulrich had not known love in his life, Zel had come to like that truth.

He liked knowing Ulrich’s heart had never belonged to another.

“Precisely,” Ulrich said. “But I think I mourned more for the fairy tale not lived than the woman. It takes someone special to tempt one with both.” His drunken eyes had centered on Zel, more heated than ever.

“Are you well, my lord?” Zel asked.

“Too well.” Ulrich chuckled, tearing his gaze away to stare into his wine goblet. “I think it best that we suspend our merrymaking or regret it come the morn.”

“Being immortal does not spare you the effects of strong drink?”

“How unfair if it did. But I am spared the ill effects later. You, I imagine, are not. I would not want to put you at such… dire risk should we continue.”

Zel rarely suffered too badly after a night of merrymaking with drink, but he had never woken after a rough night completely unhindered. He did not think that was what Ulrich was saving him from, however.

They parted and retired to their separate chambers, but what mattered was what Zel had learned. Now he knew how Ulrich might be put in a vulnerable enough state for a blow to be struck. He just needed to learn how to make that blow matter.

Since Ulrich’s tongue seemed loosened while intoxicated, Zel also began laying the groundwork to propose a different sort of outing, one during which he might discover the final pieces of the puzzle needed to slay him.

Zel did so perhaps too slowly, but it saddened him knowing he might have a way to complete this mission, and he stalled well into their third week, until he could no longer risk wasting another day.

While Zel had a moment alone, resigned to finally move forward with his plans, he perused Ulrich’s shelf of dearest treasures.

He eventually realized he had his braids over his shoulder and was stroking the plaits.

Typical when anxious, but he had been doing it too often lately.

If his hair hadn’t been magical, he might have pulled out clumps by now.

The only other things that could usually ease Zel when he felt like this were stolen moments with Rudy in the storeroom—currently not an option—or encouragement from his parents.

Usually not an option, since Zel was in the tower and they were hours away back in the city, but in front of Zel was an orb with green mist swirling within it that could show anywhere its activator wished to look upon.

Although Zel couldn’t remove anything from the shelf, he could still touch its contents. He ran his fingers over the orb and imagined his parents in their music shop, which at this hour would just be closing.

“Any letters today, Soph?”

Zel snatched his hand back. He hadn’t expected to be able to hear what he looked in on. He hadn’t heard anything when Ulrich touched the orb, but then, Zel’s father’s voice had sounded like it echoed within Zel’s mind, not from the orb itself. Perhaps only the activator could hear what was shown.

Zel quickly returned his fingers to bring the images and sound back.

“…normal to not receive one every day,” his mother spoke the last half of her answer.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry every second our little Rapunzel is away.”

The pair were shuttering the shop for the night. They didn’t look like assassins while in normal clothing. Or like thieves. But then, who did when not in the midst of such acts?

“She is not so little anymore,” Sophie said.

“Soph, when it’s just us, I think you can say he .”

“Can I?”

Gregor looked over from where he had latched the door closed to Sophie counting the day’s coin to separate out what would go to the guild. “What do you mean?”

“Just that.” Sophie shrugged. “When this is all over, do you think Rapunzel will live as a man or remain a woman?”

Gregor approached her with a scrunched brow. “I suppose I had never thought about it. Rapunzel hasn’t had a choice in the matter until now. Has he only ever dallied with boys?”

“You have to ask?” Sophie chuckled.

“Well, how does one discuss such things with their child?”

“I thought most fathers and sons got quite bawdy about such talk.”

“It’s different with Rapunzel than if we had a real so—oh. I see your point.”

Zel had rarely heard himself spoken of in such a way. When he thought, it was with I’s. When others spoke to him, it was with his name. It was only in overhearing other people talk about him that he had to hear he’s and she’s. And usually, just she’s.

But perhaps neither sounded right.

“I am fairly certain Rapunzel has only ever dallied with Rudy,” Sophie said—which was correct.

“Then I imagine Rapunzel will live as a woman.”

“Gregor,” Sophie chided. “That is hardly definitive evidence.”

“I know. I just rarely think of Rapunzel as a son. He’s my daughter!

” Gregor laughed. “ She is. Goodness, this is difficult when we do not have the one person here who can tell us which is right. And it’s all our doing, not Rapunzel’s choice at all.

” Any mirth between them dwindled as the last coin for the guild was set aside.

“Our dear child has had to sacrifice so much. We have too, but… Oh, I hate this, Soph. I hate that our child must pay for our mistake.”

“My mistake,” Sophie muttered.

“Don’t start that again. There’s no guarantee the sorcerer wouldn’t have caught us before we scaled back over that wall, even if we hadn’t gone up the tower first. Eating that lettuce might have been what saved us and Rapunzel.

I wouldn’t trade any of our sacrifices if it meant our babe would never be born.

” He reached across the front counter where Sophie had been doing the counting and took her hands.

“Neither would I,” she agreed.

“I just wish Rapunzel was free to live as whoever and whatever he or she wishes to be. I wish that for us too. Can you imagine if it all actually goes to plan, the full plan, and we take over the guild? Nobody is loyal to Lothar. They only fear him. We could run things so much better.”

“It still surprises me how much I want that, when once I wanted a life for us outside the guild,” Sophie mused. ”Though I’m fairly certain other members will still fear us if we take over using the sorcerer’s magic.”

“Only at first! We’ll earn their loyalty until they learn they needn’t fear us at all.”

Sophie brought Gregor’s hands to her lips and kissed both sets of knuckles. “I hope for that future too. Soon. Rapunzel will not fail.”

“Rapunzel will not fail,” Gregor repeated. He helped Sophie sweep all the coins for the guild into a separate bag that they would bring to the communal coffers, like they did every night. “What’s this?” he asked of a piece of parchment resting beside the till.

“A recalculation of yesterday’s sales,” Sophie explained. “You were short.”

“I was?” Gregor studied the parchment. “This isn’t your handwriting.”

“Rudy did it, when he was helping me restock earlier. He noticed the discrepancy.”

“That boy,” Gregor said with fondness. “He's been here nearly every day. Still trying to earn Rapunzel's favor?”