Page 4 of Zel (The GriMM Tales #2)

Any pity Zel felt for this man fled him, and he readied himself for his duty. He waited. His parents and the other thieves who were called upon as assassins had trained him to have endless patience, for that patience would be tested when he faced the sorcerer.

The bandit exited the room, and just Zel’s luck—he was usually lucky, which others guessed was another benefit from the lettuce—he turned in the opposite direction from Zel, leaving himself exposed.

Zel leapt and tackled the bandit to the floor, stabbing his dagger between the man’s ribs right into his heart.

He ripped the dagger free with a twist on extraction to ensure a swift bleeding out and death within less than a minute.

Then he rolled the man over to watch the light leave his eyes.

Kills only counted if the final moment of death was witnessed, an old Thieves Guild superstition.

A month from tomorrow, sooner if possible but no later, Zel would be watching the light leave the sorcerer’s eyes, or the sorcerer would be watching the light leave his.

“R-run…” the bandit said with his last breath, but he did not keep his fading eyes on Zel. He tilted his head back to look toward a room at the end of the hall.

Zel noticed the sack the bandit had been carrying, spilled now onto the floor beside the body. It was just clothes. Personal items. Nothing of value. This was the bandit’s home, made clearer when Zel looked up and saw a child cowering in the far room’s doorway.

“P-Papa?”

There could be no loose ends, no witnesses. It was Thieves Guild law . The Queen did not tolerate revenge quests from friends or family of the deceased left alive.

The little girl in a plain nightdress too small for her clutched a patchwork doll to her chest. She stood immobilized and shivering as Zel stepped over her father’s body to move toward her. She could not have been older than five or six.

“Are there others in this house?” Zel demanded, using his higher, feminine pitch that was second nature to him now. “A mother? Siblings? Anyone at all?”

The girl shook her head.

Zel lowered his mask and swooped down to her level, grabbing her shoulder with the hand not holding his dagger.

“Then do as your father bid you and run. Take everything with you that could prove a child lived here and go. The guild will ransack this house, and if they have reason to believe in your existence, they will find you, and they will not show you the same kindness that I am.”

That the girl’s eyes did not show blame nor hatred toward Zel for what he had done to her father was a testament to how expected such acts were in this kingdom. “Where do I go?” she asked.

“Wherever you can. But you cannot stay here.”

Zel turned back to the dead bandit. Had he been a bad man, or just a poor man turned thief to clothe and feed his daughter?

Zel had no way of knowing. He had no way of knowing whether any of his targets had been worse than he was as a killer for hire.

But the Queen’s words were law, Lothar her arbiter, and guild members Lothar’s tools to wield.

Zel was a fool to be taking such a chance on his final night, but if he killed outside necessity or someone deserving, he would be no better than the monsters that held his reins, no better than the sorcerer he would soon be sent to.

Someday, somehow, he longed to be more.

There wasn’t time to move the body, but cleanup was the job of other guild members.

It would be seen as strange if Zel did it.

He needed to circle back to his father, give the girl as much time as possible to escape, then send the cleaners to the bandit’s home to confirm the kill.

He could only hope the girl would be gone by then.

To her credit, as Zel used the stairs to exit out the front door this time and leave it unlatched for the cleaners, the little girl went straight for the bag her father had dropped and emptied it of the rest of its contents to begin gathering clothes and items of her own.

In this life, this kingdom, childhood was a luxury most did not get.

Zel waited around the bend of another alleyway to catch his breath, which came out in visible puffs since it was late and the autumn season had begun much colder than usual.

His father was likely looking for him, after warning the wounded bandits that if they lived, it would be by the grace and mercy of the Queen, and they would do well to never cross her again.

Fear was a powerful tool for motivation.

But then, so was hunger.

The girl would be all right, Zel told himself. She had to be. If she crumbled now, she would never survive the winters ahead of her.

Whatever quiver tried to work its way into Zel’s hands, he willed it away with a gritting of his teeth. He’d had no choice. He’d had to kill that man, and there was still more killing to be done before he could rest.

Breath calmed and quiet, Zel wiped his blade on his breeches before sheathing it.

Missions were the only time he wore breeches instead of skirts.

They were more practical for the job, but in truth, he had never minded wearing skirts or other pretty things, rouging his cheeks, or displaying his luxurious locks.

He was beautiful enough that pretending to be a girl had always come easily to him, so easy that it rarely felt like pretend at all.

It still wasn’t him, not all of him out in the open, and he longed for whatever that might prove to be once he had the freedom to wonder.

If he ever did.

Distantly, Zel heard feet running on cobblestones. Father , he hoped, or someone else from the Thieves Guild. Regardless, he had given the girl enough time.

As Zel stepped out of the alley into the next street, he was caught up short by nearly colliding with a passing old woman. How had he not heard her coming?

“Goodness, child! Did you give this old woman a fright! In such a hurry?”

Zel was tongue-tied at first, not only by the surprise of the woman’s arrival, but by how frail and shriveled she looked. He had never seen anyone so wrinkled. She wore a black robe and used a walking stick for her hunched posture, likely to keep her from toppling forward.

“My apologies, Madam,” Zel said. “I realized the time and felt the need to hurry home.”

“As you should,” the woman said with an equally aged voice to match her appearance. “‘Tis far too late and dangerous to be going anywhere alone. Will you be all right?”

Zel smiled, wanting to point out that the old woman was alone too, but then, when one reached such a ripe old age, they likely didn’t worry much about Thieves Guild pickpockets or even bandits. “I will, thank you. These streets are dangerous indeed. You hurry home too.”

“Thank you, child,” she said. “Although, given what day it is, I can no longer call you child , can I, Rapunzel?”

Zel startled yet again, trying to study her face, her voice, but there was something impossible to place about her. “Um… yes. No , I mean. I am no child. I became a woman today. Finally twenty. Have we met before, Madam?”

“I do not believe so, dear, but everyone knows you, don’t they?”

Most did in these streets. A story like Zel’s wasn’t possible to keep hidden from neighbors. His true identity was difficult enough to hide. But she must have had a keen eye given most of his hair was still hidden by his hood. “I suppose they do.”

“Are you excited for what is to come?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Zel answered honestly, “but I am excited to put childhood behind me.”

“Good,” she said, and then seemed to study Zel’s clothing, his breeches especially.

If she knew him, then she was local and would also recognize the clothing of the Thieves Guild.

If she drew attention to it, he was honor bound to kill her, and he could not risk two acts of mercy in one night.

“You’ve got a spot of red on you, dear. Be well,” she said and continued on.

It was no wonder she had lived for so long if she was that wise.

Zel turned to head in the other direction.

“Such a fair and lovely lad,” he heard from her.

Zel spun around, because no one should know, no one , but when he looked in every direction the old woman might have gone, he saw no sign of her.

Already frazzled by the eventful night, Zel hurried to find his father and to better prepare for what came with the morn.

“ Y ou did it!” Rudy nearly bowled Zel over with the force of his tackling.

Zel and his father had returned to the Thieves Guild to applause and merrymaking in celebration of his induction as a full member.

Rudy, Zel’s closest friend, had ascended to full membership the previous month.

He was part of the pickpocketing unit that kept the guild in funds.

The Queen could be quite stingy with her coin.

The Thieves Guild in full was made up of the pickpocketing unit, elite thieves for larger jobs, assassins like Zel, guards who were well trained but not as cutthroat or stealthy as the assassins, information brokers known as whisperers who kept their eyes open and ears craned for anything important happening in the streets, and finally, the cleaners.

Their job was to ensure that even if citizens knew the Thieves Guild was responsible for something, there was never enough evidence to prove it, and thus Thieves Guild activities remained rumors and guesswork.

Zel’s welcome reception meant the cleaners had already confirmed the kill and someone had reported back ahead of them.

The little girl must have gotten away, or daggers and swords drawn would have greeted Zel and his father instead.

He hoped she would be okay beyond a single night of escape.

If an assassin had taken Zel’s parents when he was her age, he might not have made it this far without losing even more of his soul to survive in these streets.