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who hoped gentleness meant
the songstress would yield.
But stronger still,
her will remained cheerful,
for against such weakness,
she never would kneel.”
“At last, a man,
steady and kind,
loved her freely
and honored her mind.
For true love is selfless,
a rare gem to find,
not beastly nor cruel
when hearts entwine.”
Lovely. The song and the performer.
Ulrich applauded, studying Zel, who curtsied and smiled. How lovely indeed. Someone other than Ulrich might never have guessed that the beautiful golden-haired muse had been sent here to kill him. But Ulrich knew.
What happened to Zel when the time came was yet to be decided.
Four
ZEL
Zel stared at the ceiling of his bedchamber. He hadn’t really looked at it when he was exploring his room before and unpacking his things, but it was tall and domed, with a translucence through whatever the magical ceiling was made of, so he gazed upon the bare night sky.
Beautiful as it was, how was he expected to sleep when there was still so much to be done? He had twenty-nine more days and nights to succeed, yet it already felt like too little. Ulrich was powerful. Everything that had ever been speculated about the sorcerer in the tower had so far proven true, given his treasures and the ease with which he wielded magic.
Zel knew little of elves. There were some in the Thieves Guild and throughout the city, most slaves, occasionally free or even more rarely high standing, but certainly none as capable as Ulrich. Maybe he was something other than an elf and merely looked like one—a question among many that Zel needed to answer.
Tomorrow, he would begin prodding for information, but gently, so as to not arouse suspicion. At least the luxuries that accompanied this task were pleasant to experience. Zel loved his new dress. He would have to make more like it, since he had been given leave to do so. He’d loved the food and drink as well. He even loved the tower, with its hidden rooms and anything and everything Zel could have thought to ask for.
It felt too easy, but maybe because the challenge remained ahead of him. Most important was for Ulrich to never discover that Zel planned to kill him.
Or that Zel was a man in disguise, playing pretend.
Although, like usual, Zel didn’t feel like he was pretending, but he knew better than to assume anyone else could understand. Least of all a sorcerer who wanted a bride.
Well, maybe least of all Lothar.
Zel was most curious about Ulrich’s blackened hand. How far up did the damage go? Was it damage? Was it evil, or the source of Ulrich’s magic the way Zel’s hair was the source of his?
Though, was Zel’s hair the source of his? And could he actually wield magic, or had Ulrich simply said that to appease him? Ulrich was charming, but Zel could not be certain if he was honest. The true nature of someone was rarely discovered in a day.
It was rarely discovered in thirty, but Zel had to try.
