Page 42 of Zel
Zel prepared himself to grab hold of that hand and twist it, throwing himself out of reach with the momentum, but he didn’t get the chance.
“I believe you have acquired an already spoken for dance partner.”
The shadow of Ulrich appeared, a brief flicker of his true form showing itself, as he swept Zel into his arms and shoved the man aside in one graceful motion. Whatever else he had done to the man, whether magical or just brute force, the lout was sent scurrying for one of the exits, holding a hand to his mouth like he might expel everything he had drunk.
Zel was in awe. The song was an upbeat waltz, modern within the past few decades, yet Ulrich, holding Zel close, fell into step with those around them effortlessly. The difference was that his hand at the small of Zel’s back was welcome and did not wander.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“You follow my lead beautifully, Zel. Assuming I have permission to continue dancing with you beyond the rescue?”
“You do,” Zel said.
Ulrich danced far better than the drunken oaf had, well enough to draw a different kind of attention to them, but once the band moved on to a second song, Zel realized they had wound up back at the bar. He mourned no longer dancing with Ulrich, but the bar had been his goal, and the barkeep pushed fresh goblets their way as if having expected them. Perhaps he had witnessed what happened and knew to have drinks ready.
Perhaps Ulrich continued to command the night’s events.
They claimed their cups, but Ulrich grabbed hold of Zel around the waist again and danced with him one-armed back to their table. They laughed when they collided with its edge upon reaching it, but not a single drop spilled from their goblets.
They drank. They listened to the music. And there was soon no question as to whether or not Ulrich was using his magic, for the air in the tavern began to sparkle like twinkling stars. Swirls of colored lights sprang to life in unexpected corners, twirling along with the dancers. It was like being in the heavens, on a night when more than stars dotting inky blackness could be seen, but swaths of pink and teal and violet.
Like Ulrich himself when no disguise dampened his brilliance.
Zel was delighted to watch it all with Ulrich beside him. A few less inebriated patrons noticed the illusions, most assuming that this elf or that one must be responsible, for their race was known for creating beautiful enchantments. The drunker among the patrons simply enjoyed it.
“It’s lovely,” Zel said, as the next song began. “The magic even moves to the music.”
“You added your magic,” Ulrich said, leaning in closer to Zel, “so I added mine.”
“Mymagic?” Zel questioned. They were close enough that, when he glanced up, the barest lean from Ulrich could have bumped their noses.
“Your voice. You have been humming along to the songs.”
“Have I? I didn’t realize.”
“You have a lovely voice. Though everything about you is magical to me, Zel.”
Zel was feeling warmer by the moment. “Praise be to the lettuce?”
Ulrich chuckled. “Oh no. You surpass anything mererapunzelcould give you, little cabbage. That is why you are Zel.”
Zel felt warmer still, but in his eyes like earlier. In his chest. In his gut. Between his legs. What magic was this, he wondered, for his whole body felt aflame, and he wanted to launch himself at Ulrich as much as part of him feared he might burst into tears. “Drink can make one… truthful,” he said, bold enough to movehis hand onto Ulrich’s thigh. “But also feverish. Flush. My virtue is crumbling, my lord, for all I can think about is getting on my knees beneath this table and taking you into my mouth.”
Ulrich’s disguised eyes flashed with their usual violet fire and swirling galaxies. His chest heaved, not with need for breath, but with the same rising desire. He seemed about to say something, or equally like he might pull Zel to him and kiss him. Zel leaned closer too, enough that a kiss, whether chaste or bruising, would be so easy to claim. But then he might never want to stop.
“I’m sorry!” Zel lurched away before any kiss could be taken. What was he doing letting himself want and wonder? At least something hecouldblame on the drink was a sudden need to relieve himself. “I… I fear I am going to ruin this moment far worse than postponing it if I don’t make my way to the latrines just now.”
Ulrich huffed a laugh. He was clearly disappointed but nodded.
Zel did need to piss, but he was also being a coward again. He had to clear his mind and think through a plan to redirect their conversation so he might covertly gain the knowledge he sought: how to kill the unkillable, though what he really wanted was just what he had said.
He wondered what Ulrich would taste like.
Zel couldn’t risk using the actual latrines, since the room was communal. An outhouse in the alley was more commonly used by female patrons, but when Zel got outside, it was occupied. His urgent need brought him around back to a narrower alley, where he hoisted his skirts to relieve himself against the wall.
The heat in his eyes refused to go away, and he found himself sniffling and blinking rapidly to keep any actual tears from falling. He had to focus. He had to be smart. Hecouldslip beneath their table to pleasure Ulrich like he had teased, likehe had done for Rudy so many times, but if he did, he knew he would want more like he had never wanted anything before.
As Zel finished emptying himself of all he had drank, he could have sworn he felt eyes on him.
