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

were bright red, as if coated in blood. “Are you hurt?” he called out.

Even from this distance, he could see the glower on her face. “’Course not.”

Aidan remembered the blood on his own hand, and then he wasn’t so sure he believed her. Twigs snapped under his mucky boots as he tramped toward her, upsetting the peaceful crackling of the fire. He stopped at the makeshift spit and stared. There were two birds roasting – pigeons, he’d bet his money on. “How the blazes did you manage all this?” he asked.

Slaíne froze where she stood, her eyes narrowed.

Aidan stopped and raised his hands. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “I snuck up on them.”

His eyebrows shot up of their own accord. “You snuck up on them?”

“I didn’t steal them, if that’s what you’re accusin’.”

Aidan had to laugh at this. “Pigeons are wild birds and don’t fall under poaching laws.”

The girl didn’t seem to know what to say to that statement, and went back to turning the spit again. “I ate the eggs.”

Aidan suppressed a grin. “I see.”

“I’m sorry,” she snarled.

The grin broke through. “No need to apologize. You did all the work.”

The girl seemed to be deciding if he was making fun of her or not. Stooped over the small blaze, she returned her attention to the task at hand.

“Eggs are hard to Dismiss and save for later, anyway. All that brittle shell.” That drew no comment from her, so he tried a different approach to getting her to talk. “And you managed to catch, pluck, and gut them within half an hour’s time?”

If he didn’t know better, he’d wager a smile was fighting its way onto her face. She grimaced. “Took two hours or so, but I’ve got fast fingers.”

Aidan rubbed the backs of his hands over his eyes. “Two hours? Was I really gone that long?” He’d said it more to himself than to her. “One loses track of time when one’s punishing oneself.”

* * *

The birds cooked through, Aidan removed them from the spit and placed the carcasses on slabs of bark he pried from a nearby tree. After dining on nothing but cold food and under-cooked tubers for a month, this was a treat. He ate slowly, savoring.

Slaíne, on the other hand, ate as though her next meal weren’t guaranteed. Grease dribbled down her chin, and she didn’t mop herself up until every morsel had been chewed off the bones.

Aidan wondered if he should offer her some of his, but decided it might hurt the strange girl’s feelings. He handed her a water bladder and said, “Thank you. I didn’t expect….”

She was already waving the words away and drinking. When she came up for air, she said, “There enough water for me to drink a few more?”

“A few more…?”

“Mouthfuls.”

Aidan felt the bladder. She had already drained more than he could afford. “No. Sorry.”

With apparent reluctance, she passed the bladder back. “Vines.”

“Hmm?”

She looked around the woods, and his gaze followed hers. “Blast. Naught but poisonous things.” Of all things, she reached to the ground, dusted off a few pebbles, and stuffed them in her mouth. When she caught him staring, she frowned and went about cleaning up after the meal.

“Do you think your m—the elves are following us?”

Slaíne shrugged and swept ashes onto the fire with a thick stick.

Aidan wandered off to feed and water Triumph while the girl worked, keeping mindful of her Pull and the other Pulls surrounding him. There were no other humans nearby, nor did he sense the elves. They might be safe. Still, best not to leave anything to chance.

Once he’d finished with his horse, he returned to the camp, where the girl had piled all his belongings.

Slaíne watched him, silent expectation written on her face.

Amused, Aidan made a show of waving his hand and Dismissed everything.

The girl nodded once to herself, as if a burning question had been answered, and wiped her hands down her skirts. “Right. Where’re you off to now?”

His eyes narrowed. “We are headed for a town.”

She snorted. “Right. And what town might that be?”

He frowned. “That is my concern.” If the elves found her before they found him, he would still have a chance of escaping. It wouldn’t do to give away his plans to her…especially since he didn’t know where her loyalties lay.

With a scowl, Slaíne put her bony hands on her bony hips. Her look said it all: “So that’s how it is.”

That rankled. “See here, I haven’t time to explain myself. If we’re to make it to W—the village, I mean….”

She smirked at him.

Exasperated, he jabbed his finger in her direction. “If we’re to make it to the village before nightfall, I need your utmost cooperation. Is that understood?”

Eyes ablaze, the girl snapped him a smart salute—“Aye, sir.”—causing her loose shirt to dip down over her shoulder.

Aidan froze. “What is that?” He was looking at a bloody gash the size and shape of a whip lash. Recalling the dried blood on his hand, he again berated himself. He needed to take care of this, before it could get much worse. Left untended, it could be deadly. “Come here.”

It was her turn to freeze. “Nah, sir.”

He pointed at the wound, which she was covering up as best she could. “That’s going to become infected.”

To his frustration, the girl merely shrugged and muttered something that sounded like ‘ruddy meddler’.

“Let me have a look.” Aidan made a move for her, but she skirted out of his reach. “Slaíne, please, I’m only trying to help you.”

“I can manage m’self.”

He decided to change tactics. With a sigh, he threw up his hands and moved toward his horse. “I’m sure you can. Now, can we ride?”

Slaíne gave him a suspicious look, hesitated, and finally approached Triumph, who was huffing impatiently. She was ready to mount the steed, when Aidan grabbed her around the waist and pinned her against the horse’s side. “Gerroff!”

Aidan Summoned a clean rag and dabbed at the green pus oozing around the edges of the wound. He tried to ignore