Page 69 of Zel
“Your leader is gone!” Ulrich announced, as Zel stalwartly came to stand beside him, “but you needn’t make an enemy of me. Swear allegiance to your new leaders, the Pipers, and I will spare you. Refuse, and you will answer to me instead of their blades.”
An eruption of surprise filtered through the ranks upon recognizing Lothar lay dead on the floor and the sorcerer stood in their midst, but barely a member hesitated before taking a knee and holding their weapons blades-down toward the Pipers in fealty.
“Spread word among your ranks of what happened,” Ulrich ordered, even as more members continued to arrive. They too all dropped to one knee, even not knowing the full story. Ulrich looked to Zel. “We must finish preparations at the tower before the hour grows late.”
“Of course.”
“What are you going to do?” Gregor asked them.
“What all this was leading to,” Ulrich said, “and it requires Zel’s magic, which remains strong. You needn’t worry for his safety. Not with me.”
Almost as if the gods had planned it so, young Rudy appeared in the doorway with the next collection of guild members.
He did not take a knee.
“I will see you again,” Zel promised his parents.
Someone in the crowd muttered, “Did the sorcerer sayhissafety?”
But Ulrich swept them back to the tower, barely allowing Zel to hear Rudy’s final cry.
“Zel!”
Fifteen
ZEL
Lothar was dead. Zel’s parents were safe—and they had called him Zel. Why he had ever doubted they would heed his wishes seemed so silly now. The Thieves Guild might not be able to act independent of the Queen, but that was another day’s fight.
The night was theirs.
And Ulrich would soon be Zel’s.
“Do we need to await an appointed hour?” Zel asked once they’d returned to the tower.
“The appointed hour is now, for we must finish before midnight.”
“We have plenty of time.”
“Yes…” Ulrich seemed to hesitate, frozen where he stood.
“You are certain the loss of my hair won’t affect the ritual? Ulrich? Are you well? What else—”
Ulrich lifted him by the waist and kissed him.
All Zel’s anxiety over this night flooded out of him. So much had remained bundled up inside him, even with the battle won, but to feel Ulrich’s claiming lips and hungry tongue, the rest fell away like Zel’s hair had fallen at his feet.
“I am not sure if we have enough time forthat,” Zel hummed, “but I could be persuaded.”
“I am afraid not.” Ulrich chuckled.
“Afterward then.” Zel kissed him again. Outside of that awful cage, Ulrich was a godlike presence, equally sparkling and shadowed like an entity of the night sky, but something else seemed to be dimmed in him for his lips turned downward once this new kiss broke. “Why do you look sad? Did… did my brutality with Lothar change your view of me?”
“Never. Nothing could.” Ulrich held Zel’s cheek, and though the fullness of Zel’s braids was gone, his bob of hair still brushed Ulrich’s blackened fingers and brought them to life. “Ferocity in response to being wronged is justified. And as your parents said, you were marvelous, Zel.”
“Then is it my hair? Do you miss it? I do. It must look awful right now.”
Ulrich held Zel’s other cheek and kissed him gently. “You are as radiant as ever.”
