Slee stood tall, sensing its new form from head to toes, from vision to scent. Above, the lights it had called upon receded.

“Sire,” said the one in black, “that wind did not feel natural.”

Slee, as the Zachary, smiled. “Let us return indoors then.” The vibration of the voice in his throat was an interesting sensation, a little rough, and deep.

The one in black, Willis, Slee knew from having absorbed the thoughts and memories from the Zachary, led the way to the door and they entered the castle. That the Weapon did not note that it was Slee in his king’s form meant the disguise was well done. As Slee followed the Weapon down stairs and along corridors, it ran its fingers through the bristly hairs along its jawline and chin to familiarize itself with the odd sensation. When they arrived in the area of the royal apartments, Slee’s nostrils flared at the scent of her. She was close by.

The Weapon halted at a door. “Do you wish to change before you sup with your generals, sire?”

“My generals? What do I want with them? No, I will attend my wife.”

The Weapon schooled his surprise. “Yes, sire.” He opened the door.

The rooms beyond smelled predominantly of the Zachary, a masculine human scent mixed with the tang of leather and steel. As Slee walked inward, it found the steel and instinctively quailed from it. There was a rack of swords displayed on the wall of varying lengths and ornamentation. Just gazing at the angry gleam of the blades burned Slee’s eyes.

Slee stumbled past it and came face-to-face with an older man of noble bearing and graying hair. Slee recognized him, through the Zachary’s memories, as the valet.

“Would you like me to dress you for supper now, my lord?”

“No, I am going to go to my wife. But I do not need this.” Slee slipped off the heavy coat. It was uncomfortably hot. Other layers came off until Slee was down to shirtsleeves.

“Er,” Horston said, “wouldn’t you at least like a longcoat to wear in the presence of your lady wife?”

“No,” Slee replied. “She has seen me in less.”

Horston coughed and looked to be struggling to retain his composure. When he turned away, Slee’s keen hearing picked up suppressed laughter. Had Slee said something humorous? It would have to be careful in its interpretation of words and situations through the filter of the memories and thoughts of the Zachary.

Slee looked at its new hands. They were strong, calloused by using the steel weapons. A gold band encircled one finger. It bound the Zachary to the Beautiful One, and now it was Slee’s. She was Slee’s.

It used the Zachary’s memories to find the passage that led to his queen’s apartments, and met resistance. Resistance that bounced Slee back a couple paces. The wards. Slee must subdue its intrinsic self, to wholly become the Zachary in order to fool the wards.

Slee closed its eyes and breathed deeply, let the essence it had absorbed of the Zachary flow over it. Him. Opening his eyes once again, he squared his shoulders and strode forward with purpose. There was still resistance, but it gave. He drove his will into it, and the wards fell away, allowed him to pass, for all that they sizzled across his skin.

I am Zachary, I am king. I will not be kept from my wife.

When he emerged into the queen’s sitting room, he took in the great hearth, and the sofa where she reclined, studying a book. He took in the glow of her golden hair, her porcelain skin. Her cheeks blossomed with pink health. He noted the graceful hands that held the book. He took halting steps forward until two furry white canines came bounding up to him. Abruptly, they halted, and eager tail wagging turned into low, threatening growls.

The Beautiful One sat up and turned, looking startled.

Slee could freeze the dogs, or with a gesture, slam them into a wall, but the Zachary would never do such a thing. He loved the nasty little curs.

“Finder! Jasper!” he snapped.

The growling quieted, but continued on a register too low to be perceived by ordinary human ears, but Slee heard it. The posture of the canines remained rigid, their ears laid back and their fur standing on end.

“Why did they growl at you?” the Beautiful One asked.

“I do not know,” he replied. “Come,” he told them in a sharp tone of command, and he strode from the sitting room and toward the entrance. He did not expect the dogs to obey, but he sensed they would follow him warily to keep an eye on him. They knew he was not exactly their master, and yet he was. They were confused.

He flung the door open to the corridor and told the Weapons on guard there, “See that these dogs are returned to their kennel and do not return. They were disturbing the queen.”

Before they could answer, he shooed the dogs out with a stern command and swung the door shut. The dogs barked on the other side, the sound fading as he returned to the sitting room.

“What was that all about?” the Beautiful One asked.

“I do not know.” He feasted his gaze on her. “They will not misbehave again.”

“Perhaps,” she said, “they were as startled as I am to see you. I thought you were going to dine with your generals.”

“I changed my mind. I could not bear to be away from you and the children.”

She set her book down and looked confounded. Slee knew there was strain between her and the Zachary, and that the Zachary did not love her as he loved another. Only a great idiot would be so blind to the radiance of the Beautiful One. The Zachary did not deserve her, but he did deserve all that was going to be taken away from him.