The Goblets Immortal by Beth Overmyer (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

in her direction. “No, I have no use for a servant.”

The four elves shared a knowing look. “But you ought to at least have a look. She might change your mind,” said the smallest elf. “Girl, leave the woodpile. The gentleman needs some tea.”

“That is not necessary,” Aidan assured them. It would seem that either the Pull or some Glamour were muddling his thoughts, distracting him from his purpose. “I was – wondering….” And then he forgot.

The girl fetched a tin cup, filled it, and approached Aidan hastily without saying a word.

Relief washed over him as the girl placed the cup in his hands. “Thank you,” he said.

She seemed relieved, too. But then she scowled at him all the same and stalked away.

One of the elves piped up again, still trying to drive a sale. “She’s a docile little thing, never mind that flaming mane of hers.”

The girl was tucking strands of fiery red hair back into her cap, her eyes on him defiant. Bother me and I’ll show you just how docile I am, she seemed to say.

Aidan raised his eyebrows. Docile? My horse. But still he continued to watch her.

She moved about lithely, each step measured, like some wild cats he’d seen skirting around him in the shadows. I’d put some meat on those bones, he found himself thinking. A strong wind might carry her away.

The girl stumbled again as she continued to tend to the fire. The elves laughed.

“Not normally so clumsy, this one. She likes you, mark my words.”

“Why wouldn’t she? He’s a handsome man. Strong as an ox, I’d wager. He’d be a good master.”

Aidan felt a rush of blood run to his face. This is getting out of hand. Poor girl.

“Show him your teeth, Slaíne.”

The girl shot her mistresses a dirty look, cringing away when the tall one lifted a whip. Her eyes widened for a moment, her jaw clenched tight as the elves all cackled and taunted her.

“Really,” said Aidan, “there’s no need for this. I am not in the market for a slave.”

“They’re straight, those chompers of hers.”

“White as milk.”

“She won’t cost you much. We’ll give her in exchange for, say, that Goblet of yours. The one you are hiding in your saddlebag…. Don’t look so surprised, sir. It’s calling us.”

It took Aidan a moment to regain his wits and recall where he was and that he should be mindful of his horse, who he was relieved to see grazing with the four white mares. “I am not—”

“And throw in a gold piece, Mr. Aidan. Gotta be fair to ourselves, ladies.”

“Aye,” they all said, nodding.

“Blast,” he said as he attempted to shake the haze from his brain.

The four sisters laughed. “Something the matter with the both of them.”

“Aye. ’Tis a sign.”

“Aye, an omen.”

Slaíne stared into the fire, her face void of emotion. She didn’t move, even as one of her owners grabbed the cap off her head and waves of red curls poured down her shoulders. It would seem she had given up.

Aidan hated to leave her with these cruel women, and the thought of trying to escape her Pull filled him with uneasiness. But what use had he for her? He could scarce take care of himself, never mind adding another mouth. And yet he found himself saying, “I’ll think about it. But first, I have some questions in need of—”

The she-elves laughed. “Smart man, this one. Knows a deal when he sees it.”

He suppressed a sigh. This conversation would be a long, winding one, he could tell. Small-talk, he thought with loathing.

“Oi, Slaíne, where be them tea cakes?” The fat one smacked her lips and patted her belly.

“So, you said you had a question,” said Leech.

He jumped on the opportunity and got right to the matter: “What do you know of the Immortal, and how would I go about uniting them?”

“Not so hasty, not so hasty,” said the fourth she-elf, the one with the warty nose. “We’ve just met, and that is a personal question.”

“Aye, very personal.”

“What is personal?” he asked, another wave of befuddlement washing over him. Was he going mad? Or were these elves’ particular brand of Glamour unusually strong?

“Personal? What’s personal, he wants to know,” said Treevain. “Why, it’s personal just in the fact that it can get your body killed.”

“Yes, nothin’ more personal than death.”

The four cackled.

Aidan thought of the goblet, and for whatever reason, that cleared his head and distracted him from the ridiculous Pull and the Glamour.

“Well, if you aren’t willing to part with that information, I shall move on. Good day, ladies.” He turned, hoping to hide his intentions.

His hopes were dashed. “Consider your ruse found out,” said Reek. “You need us and our precious information.”

Aidan turned to face them, his eyebrows raised. But feigning innocence wouldn’t work with these power-wielders, as he very well should have known. It would seem that he would have to bargain. “What do you want for it?”

“What do we want, he asks.” The third elf snorted and twisted her ugly head to look over her shoulder. “She’s gone farther than she ought.”

“Mm. Slaíne’s not rightly in the head, thinking she can push the boundary.”

“Foolish.”

“Absurd.”

The end to Aidan’s patience seemed near in sight. He flattered himself to be a moderate-tempered man. But chitchat…all nonsense and fluff and the match to the tinder of his ire.

“It’s not working, Reek,” Treevain murmured to the one with the warty nose.

“What did you say?”

“I said your Glamour is not working.”

Reek snorted. “Nonsense. It’s your Glamour that’s off.”

“Nay,” the former insisted.

“It would seem, ladies,” said Leech, “that all our Glamour is off. Shall we start again? Together on three? Two…four…. Erm….”

“Enough!” said the tall one, causing the others to stop and wonder at her. She, however, stared at Aidan, suspicion forming in her gaze. “The Goblet.”

“What of it?” Aidan demanded, uncertain why he found himself on the defense.

Treevain nodded. “I wondered.”

“I thought so,” said Reek.

“We’ve been fools!”

“Shut up,” said the tall one. “He can hear every blasted word we’re saying. Glamour does