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

said, gathering supplies for a fire. “That would be a high climb.”

Slaíne shrugged. “Not too high for me.” And she turned again, as if to disappear into the woods.

Before Aidan could stop himself, he stood upright and said quite firmly, “Where are you going?”

“To find water. Is that all right with you?” she snapped.

“How do I know you’re not going to just run off and find your mistresses again?”

Her face pinched. “They ain’t my mistresses. ’Sides, coulda run off whilst you were occupied earlier, now couldn’t I?” She rolled her eyes and continued to leave.

Irritation replaced relief, and Aidan followed her. “How much have your mistresses told you of the Immortal?”

“They ain’t my mistresses,” she repeated.

Aidan nodded. “Fair enough.” He waited, hoping she would offer something. When she did not, he crossed his arms and stared her straight in the eyes. “What do you know?”

Slaíne worried her lower lip, squinting against the sun. “An’ I’m supposed to tell you all I know, jus’ like that?” A smirk taunted her lips but did not meet her hard eyes.

His biceps tightened. “So you do know about the Immortal.”

She snorted. “So what if I do? What makes you think I’m just gonna tell you everything I know?” Her gaze held on to his, though she brought up a hand to her eyes to shield herself from the overhead blaze.

Aidan scratched at his chin stubble. “You talked of this Meraude. You seemed to hate her.”

“What of it?”

“Well, perhaps I could help you with her.”

“Help me with her? What could you possibly do against a mage?” When he opened his mouth to remind her of what he had done to her blade, she interrupted. “Yes, making things disappear an’ all that. What good will that do against a mage?”

“More than a scrawny girl could do alone.”

She hissed and bared her teeth, reminding Aidan of a feral cat, one that he was trying to pet. “I’m no girl. Two and twenty, and don’t you forget.”

Aidan raised his hands. “All right. Still….” He followed her farther into the brush and bracken. “You’re not going to accomplish anything on your own. We might as well help each other.” He bumped into her when she stopped short, eliciting a yelp. “Why don’t you tell me everything you know about the Immortal, and I’ll help you find and avenge yourself against Meraude.”

Slaíne cocked her head to the side, her gaze wary. “You want something from her, though.”

“So I’ll get that, and then we’ll see about taking your revenge, hmm?”

She scoffed and was silent for a moment, biting her lower lip. At last she said, “Let me just see how much you can be trusted before I say a thing.”

Aidan glowered. He did not like having to wait on others’ whims, and he knew this girl was going to drag this out as long as she could. “But if I’m—”

She turned and continued walking.

Without thinking, he reached out, grabbed her shoulder, and spun her around. Aidan was used to dealing with men, and her reaction surprised him.

Slaíne, for all her bravado, cringed away like he was about to strike. Hate filled her eyes and she stalked around him, back toward their camp, stretching the Pull between them.

Confused and ashamed, Aidan looked down at his hand, which was wet with blood. He frowned until he recalled the whip crack he had heard the previous evening. “Idiot,” he groaned, taking a step back. “I am such an idiot.” Not only was he no closer to getting the answers he sought, he now had to tiptoe, something he was not good at. He was tempted to follow her and apologize, but she started singing again, and he knew that she could wait.

Satisfied that the girl was still close by but not within earshot, Aidan sat beneath a tree, crossed his legs, and attempted something he hadn’t done in ages.

At first he closed his eyes and explored the Pulls around him. He was struck again by the strength of Slaíne’s Pull, but he felt around it. Something small skittered down below the ground. Its Pull was easy enough to let go. He reached out farther, feeling snakes in all their thin, wriggling insubstantiality. Then there were fair-sized rodents, or so Aidan assumed; he couldn’t actually differentiate between most mammal species. Then he found Triumph’s Pull, a few deer, and maybe even a coyote.

“All right,” he breathed and braced himself. The girl’s Pull wasn’t easy now to navigate around, but he was not looking to Call anything. He was looking to Summon.

He held back his cache of supplies in Nothingness, things he did not want to Summon at the moment, and attempted to find his family. If he could Dismiss himself, surely he could Dismiss and Summon others. His family might be in Nothingness this very moment, and all he needed to do was bring them back. But he’d tried this many times, and no matter how hard he stretched and strained, all he produced was sweat.

This time proved to be no different. Aidan sat and focused as hard as he could, trying to draw his mother, father, and Sam out of the abyss.

“Useless,” he shouted after an hour, spittle flying from his mouth. His eyes opened as neighboring birds took flight. Disgusted with himself, Aidan hung his head and tried to bring his emotions back under control. He drew in deep breaths and let them out slowly.

His heart continued to race, and it felt as though he had run a mile through waist-deep mud. But he stumbled to his feet and made his way back to camp, where he could smell a fire and the beginnings of something cooking. He sniffed outside of the small clearing, and wondered at what he smelled and saw. Meat? Where had she found meat? And why hadn’t she run away? Not that he wanted her to, but this whole situation was as odd as it was vexing.

He spied her then, emerging from the woods across the way. Her hands