Page 17 of Zel
There would be no slaying tonight, so Zel unsheathed the dagger from beneath his skirts and hid it under his mattress. He unpacked what little else he had into the chest and wardrobe, discovering that his cloak and furred surcoat had already been placed within the wardrobe on metal hooks. He set his silver hairbrush on the nightstand between the bed and window.
There was a window here, just like the one that faced the heart of the kingdom. Zel approached it to look out, and it faced the neighboring kingdom of Hallin. Zel was certain a second window could not be seen from the outside and assumed that this one, in this magical room, was invisible to anyone who looked at it.
How wondrous; but as enchanting as the sorcerer had proven to be, Zel could not falter. His future, hislifedepended on it, as did the lives of his parents if forced to face Lothar’s wrath.
He would change, he decided, and removed his flowered crown before venturing back into the main chamber. The sorcerer was not there. The room remained lit by candlelight and sconces, and Zel allowed himself a moment to look it all over, especially the original treasures that had tempted his parents.
Everything was immaculate, all expensive looking or ancient, like fanciful leather tomes tucked between strange trinkets that Zel dared not touch when he did not know their purpose. He was surprised, even pleasantly so, to see some of his favoritecollections of poems and bard tales among the sorcerer’s books. Some were even quite modern for a being who had supposedly lived here for centuries. Did that mean the sorcerer sometimes left the tower, or did he acquire such things from unwanted guests?
Zel spared a glance outside the window, wondering how far along the path through the wood his parents had gotten, and how surprised they would be when they returned home and found Zel’s horse waiting. He hoped Rudy would be well too, following in their wake.
He should dress for dinner and rejoin the sorcerer.Ulrich, Zel reminded himself. It had never suited him to know the names of his victims, but in this case, he must use it. He needed to charm Ulrich to better learn his secrets, his weaknesses, his undoing, without charming him so much as to be found out.
Would Ulrich go back on his promise to wait until they wed to bed him? If he grew too eager, the ruse would be over. Zel had to take this one moment at a time and always come out ahead as the true manipulator of what was to come.
He took the key and used it to return to the treasure room.
“You look lovely, Zel. Shall we dine?”
Zel had assumed—and hoped—that his full turn of the key would not yet bring him into Ulrich’s bedchamber. If it had, he worried his seduction might take a dangerous turn too soon, but his guess was right, and instead, the door opened to reveal a stately dining hall fit for the Queen herself.
Ulrich sat at one end of a long table in a high-back chair, though he rose at Zel’s entrance and bowed like a proper gentleman greeting a lady. He was dressed the same in his black and violet robes. Zel had used the loom to create exactly what he had said he wanted—a simple, single piece dress with breeches beneath as his only undergarment, no corset nor bodice, only a silk sash cinched at his waist. It was the most comfortable he had ever felt outside of his assassin gear, and he still looked convincingly feminine. He also still wore Rudy’s pendant. He knew it was foolish to wear something a commoner shouldn’t have, tempting Ulrich’s curiosity when the pendant’s origin was complicated at best, but the weight and meaning behind the token helped Zel feel grounded and somehow safer within the monster's den—however unlike a monster Ulrich had acted thus far.
What he had bid of the loom was to take what had been black and violet fabrics and add starlight shimmers to the combination as a mimic of Ulrich’s hair. It was as if literal stars dotted Zel’s dress as he moved, in brilliant contrast to his golden braids.
He also carried one of the books he had found in the main room. He set it beside him on the table when he took his seat across from Ulrich. Food had already been laid out, waiting for him to fill his plate, including a salad made from therapunzelin the garden.
“You still wish for me to eat your lettuce?” Zel asked.
“I do. Do you not care for it?”
“It is some of the most delicious food I have ever eaten. But it leaves me curious.”
“You know what it does. You are healthy and brimming with magic because of it. Your hair could never have grown so long or so silken if you were not infused with magical essence.”
Because Zel’s hair could only be cut by him—and as far as anyone else knew, not at all—it had often been speculated that it was where his magic was contained. “But I cannot wield magic.”
“Would you like to learn how?”
“Anyone can learn?”
“Anyone can learn almost anything with the right tools. Talent is a factor, but lacking talent only stops those unwilling to put in the work. It is even possible for magic to occur spontaneously from someone with seemingly no power at all, although quite rare.”
Zel wondered if that was how the sorcerer had learned—hard work over natural talent. “Perhaps not on our first night,” he said.
“Please then, eat. If the wine is not to your liking, I can conjure a different vintage, ale, anything you like.” Ulrich began to fill his plate, so Zel did the same.
He took a sip from the wine before taking his first bite of food, and it was worlds different from the vinegary swill served to guild members. “This is wonderful, my lord.”
Ulrich raised his glass. “To the month ahead and a deserving end when it is over.”
“Prost,” Zel toasted, and after taking a larger gulp, he turned to his food. It was all just as delicious as the lettuce. “Do you have servants who prepared all this?”
“Not living ones.”
Zel paused, wondering if undead had touched this food.
“Not any longer, I mean,” Ulrich said. “Magic can accomplish much. I know many spells to cook and prepare food, so long as I know the recipes, but I tend to my garden myself, and I still need to catch and kill any game we eat.”
