Page 33 of Zel (The GriMM Tales #2)

Thirteen

ZEL

M uch of the following days continued like those before.

In the morn, Ulrich would brush out Zel’s hair and help him to braid it with magic.

They would share every meal together, with dinner always including a helping of rapunzel .

They would go for walks, tend to the garden, share stories and music, but Zel’s nights were spent in Ulrich’s bed now instead of his own, and much time was spent planning how to enact upon Lothar the very assassination intended for Ulrich.

They would sneak into the guild, avoid larger concentrations of thieves and assassins, and attack Lothar while he was alone with only his sanctum guards to protect him.

Ulrich had not answered plainly yet about what would happen after Lothar was dead, but no longer would Zel accept a life carved out for him not by his own hand.

He had worried at first about Rudy, returning alone through the wood after bringing nearly a dozen with him from the Thieves Guild, but he must have been stealthy in his recruitment.

Zel checked on Rudy the next day using Ulrich’s orb, searching the halls of the guild until he found him and was content to see that it was business as usual for his friend, despite the missing members.

Rudy’s next letter included:

Pity a crew of so many set out toward the Dark Forest without Lothar’s permission and did not return. ‘Tis a terrifying place, and I worry for you being so near it, my dear Zel.

Zel couldn’t risk Rudy doing something else foolish, so he kept his reply vaguer than usual. He took minor comfort in that Rudy had made no mention, not even coded, of having discovered Zel’s secret.

Only to Sophie and Gregor did Zel give hints that his mission had changed. He assured them that this was what he wanted and warned them in veiled terms to be ready for a siege upon the guild.

Zel refused to feel guilt for those he and Ulrich had killed in self-defense, but he did not want thoughtless slaughter of his peers. Nor did he wish to add to the weight on his shoulders that had always been more about fate than follicles.

Those follicles were not cooperating as hoped when Zel attempted to practice with them as weapons on purpose.

A faint swish was Zel’s only reward as the section of hair he had sent outward like a lash missed its target and slapped against the wall.

Winding it back into his braids was easy, and he did so each time, since it would have to be a surprise attack or prove useless.

But no matter how second-nature it was to braid or unbraid his hair now, aiming it like a herder’s whip was not so effortlessly learned.

He had grabbed Louisa seemingly by instinct and could not repeat the results.

“I will succeed,” Zel repeated his old mantra. “I am ready for this. I am fierce and beautiful and capable.” His hair launched forward like a striking snake—

“That you are.”

—and smacked the goblet he had intended to grab.

It happened slowly, like time paused as Zel held his breath, because the goblet was about to slosh its contents onto his letters, and would have if Ulrich didn’t sweep forward like descending shadows and catch it before it spilled.

“Apologies!” Ulrich said. “I did not intend to startle you. Would you perhaps prefer the sparring chamber for these tests?”

“Why bother, when I can’t even lasso a cup?” Zel wound the hair back into his braids with an angry whip that nearly slapped Ulrich like it had the goblet. “Sorry! My apologies now.”

“You are frustrated.” Ulrich steadied the goblet and turned to lean against the desk.

“Endlessly, it seems. A slow grab is doable, but slow will not serve us in the coming fight. If only I were as wondrous as you.” Zel offered a wistful smile. “I would be if we could make me immortal before we raid the guild.”

“As I have told you, much as I fear for your safety, we cannot. Some magic is little more than a parlor trick requiring no exchange. Some is fickle and demands precision to work as intended. Your magic must be at its utmost peak to drain mine, and that will only be at the appointed hour. The final night of our month together is a full moon, when the gods’ eyes are most open. ”

“To look on us and grant me eternal life in the mingling of our power?” Zel felt calmer simply imagining it and moved toward Ulrich to find his place in the sorcerer’s arms.

Ulrich opened them, parting his legs where he leaned against the desk, and gathered Zel to him. “Whether any gods truly look on us, I cannot say.”

“It is no matter to me if they do or do not, if there is one human God or the many the elves worship, so long as we succeed.”

“We will. For I am quite wondrous.”

Zel snickered.

“You are wondrous too, Zel, just as you are.” Ulrich kissed Zel’s forehead, then his lips. Afterward, he looked at the desk. “Your letters are dry. Shall I…” But his words trailed off.

“What is it?”

“Only a curiosity. You sign your letters Zel .”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Rudy addresses you as such, usually, but your parents always address their letters to Rapunzel .”

Even as only an explanation, the name made Zel sneer. He had begun to distance himself from it more and more while in Ulrich’s company. “That is what they call me.”

“They do not abide by your wishes to be called Zel?”

“I’ve never asked them to.”

“Why is that?” Ulrich faced Zel again, as the letters folded themselves and flew out the window like usual.

“It’s silly. They are the last people I need to ask, the last that matter, but I always shy from correcting them. Maybe when all this is over, I will say something.”

“You needn’t hesitate, Zel. You can be whoever you wish to be. Man, woman, neither, both. Whatever the answer, that is what I shall call you, how I shall see you, and others should too.”

How the Immortal King of old could be so tender a partner, Zel would never understand, but however cursed Ulrich might see himself, his time alone had clearly softened him. Or maybe Zel had. “You still want me despite not knowing my own answer?”

“I would want you, Zel, even if you never know.”

The tears, joyful ones always closer to the surface when Ulrich was this kind, flooded Zel’s eyes with warmth. Never could he doubt that he loved this man, nor could he doubt why, even if Ulrich had yet to say it back.

Zel lifted onto his toes to kiss Ulrich more passionately than the tender peck he had been granted. In his fervor, some of his hair unfurled and wrapped around Ulrich’s arms and legs, holding him bound.

“Sorry!” Zel gasped out of their kiss once he realized.

“Do not be.” Ulrich’s expression was startled, yes, but hardly fearful, as he looked at the wrappings that almost appeared like ribbon, tying his hands behind his back and his legs together.

“It appears emotion is your trigger. Common enough with magic. You simply need to believe you can control it, and you will. Unless, of course, this is what you had planned for me.”

Zel flushed. Tying up his sorcerer had not been his intention—he didn’t think. Perhaps his hair knew better what his inner self craved. For now, he released Ulrich. “Practice would be safer first, but it is easier to believe in myself around you.”

“Then why are you practicing alone?” Ulrich stretched his arms with an elegant flex once they were free. “I will be beside you for this mission, after all.” He gestured pointedly toward the magical door.

Perhaps the two of them in the sparring room was the right idea.

A full turn of the key brought them there, and where Zel had continuously failed while practicing alone, he found it easier in Ulrich’s presence to will his hair to obey his commands.

Lashing out here to trip up Ulrich’s ankles.

Lashing out there to grab the sword from his hands.

Lashing out everywhere, from multiple angles, and tying Ulrich up again with arms taut or bound behind him, and legs tied together too.

The way Ulrich grinned at Zel when he used the bindings to force the sorcerer to his knees gave Zel an idea for something very special for the night before they were to raid the Thieves Guild.

Something very special indeed.

ULRICH

C alling Zel wondrous did not do him justice. He was talented, generally collected, and as much as he had been honed into a vicious killer, a pure heart remained if a little tainted at its edges.

Zel did not wish for his freedom if it meant harm would come to his parents, or to Rudy, or to too many of his fellows, for Zel believed they were as trapped as he had been.

Few joined the Thieves Guild for the fun of it, Zel had said, but because they had no choice.

Especially in recent winters as famine took greater hold over the kingdom, people were desperate, and Zel cared what happened to them. He wanted a happy end for all.

It was sweet, and stung Ulrich knowing he could not give Zel all he longed for. But he could help unseat Lothar, free the guild for more charitable leaders, and pave the way for the better future Zel had earned.

That they could not do the ritual early was no lie on Ulrich’s part.

The spell was particular. And thankfully, Zel had not tried asking to postpone their raid until after the month was up, for he feared that if he did not return successful that very night, Lothar might take it for failure, lash out against Zel’s parents, or besiege the tower at an inopportune moment.

The only answer was to go early the evening of Zel’s final night and complete a different mission before returning to the tower to complete Ulrich’s.

Since Ulrich had never been inside the Thieves Guild, they could not port directly there or to where Lothar might be, but as long as Ulrich got them into the city, Zel could lead them the rest of the way.

Just like he had for their night on the town.

Ulrich wished they could have had more nights like that.

But he would leave Zel a beautiful life, with all of Ulrich’s treasures bestowed upon him.