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

Aidan didn’t blink. “I have no need for them.”

If he hadn’t known better, he would say there was approval in her eyes. Whatever the case, she nodded and looked off into the distance. “All right. I will tell you some of what I know, Mr. Aidan. But I want somethin’ in exchange.”

He braced himself. “Name it.”

She smirked. “I want my sword back.”

“For what end?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Aidan glowered. “If you mean to kill me with it, then it really is my business.”

Slaíne smiled with her teeth this time, threw her head back and laughed. It was a spritely sound, one that he was sure he’d never heard the likes of before. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end, and goose-skin break out all over. Too soon, her laughter ended, and her expression grew very serious. “No, I can’t kill you. You’re quite safe.”

“Can’t kill me? Or won’t?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Her face fell. “You’re safe from me. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Wondering how he had offended her, he tried smoothing it over before she refused to share her information. “I’m sorry. I shall speak of it no more.”

Her smile returned, and he wondered at her. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for.” She held up her hands. “All right. Give me a moment to collect m’thoughts.”

Aidan tried to appear impassive, but he could feel the tension of anticipation tightening his muscles and setting his jaw. His heart beat so hard it hurt. His hands grew moist, and it took enormous strength of will to remain still, afraid that the slightest movement might make the girl change her mind.

There were several more moments of silence between them ’til at last she spoke. “I don’t rightly know much about the Blest…your kind,” she amended with a nod toward Aidan. “The Four rarely spoke of such things in front of me.”

Aidan gave her a moment before prodding. “Whatever you do know could be of great help to me.” They sat in silence for a moment, until he swallowed hard and said, “Please. Please tell me everything you know.”

Slaíne looked up at the sun, her face bathed in its glow. “As far as I can understand, there are maybe three or four Goblets. Together, they’re called the Immortal.” She paused and wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue. “There’s the Summoning Goblet, which I’ll return to in a moment. There’s also something like a War Goblet – or was it Warring?” She bit her lower lip and squinted. “Can’t recall. But each Goblet comes with a gift.”

“A gift?”

Slaíne nodded. “Yes. Whoever drinks of the Warring Goblet is given the warrior’s mind. He’s nearly unbeatable in battle. The Summoner – that’s you – can make objects disappear, reappear, and can draw or repel them…what you’ve been calling Summoning and Calling.”

Aidan nodded. “How much do you know of the Summoning Goblet?”

“Next to nothing, only what I know about the others: the drinker has the ability for only so long. Until, well, they make water or what have you.” She snorted. “Doesn’t explain you, though. You don’t happen to have a giant iron goblet on your person, do you?”

“I did,” Aidan said slowly. “Until I threw it to the elves. What was I thinking?”

“Oh, probably about not getting yourself killed.” She smirked at him when he looked up, and then returned her own gaze to the sky. “Might still happen, the dying part. If the Four knew of me telling you this….” She shuddered.

He wanted to press her for more answers, but sensed that if he did so, she’d stop talking altogether. So he removed his intense gaze from her face and stared down at his filthy hands. The cut had healed almost miraculously. His hand felt almost new.

Aidan flexed his fingers, and a clump of weeds tore themselves, roots attached, from the ground and shot into his hand. He hadn’t meant to Call them. Their Pulls were so weak, they’d just responded to his feelings, perhaps. He knew without looking that the girl had risen to her feet and took a step to her left.

“That’s pretty much all I know. Sorry if it weren’t very useful.”

Aidan still didn’t look up, but twined the blades of grass around his fingers. “What of Cedric’s grave?” He looked up, and was not surprised to find her startled. “You do know about old Cedric, then?”

“‘Old Cedric’, he calls him,” she scoffed. “Cedric the Elder’s just a legend. Myth.”

“No, he’s real.”

Slaíne narrowed her eyes. “You mean to tell me that you believe the Goblets Immortal were made from wizard blood? Nonsense.”

Hoping to lead her to reveal more information, he shrugged. “So, what if I do?”

“Because, Mr. Aidan, it’s a very dangerous business, believin’ in wizards. An’ if you’re thinking of lookin’ for him….” She tossed her head, and her cap went flying away in a breeze. She didn’t seem to notice as her red curls cascaded down her shoulders. “If them legends be true, you’re already good as dead.”

Aidan held up a finger. “But what if Cedric the Elder is already dead? What if he has something buried with him?”

That brought Slaíne up short. She closed and opened her mouth a few times, and then took to pacing. “You want to go after a wizard’s tomb?”

“I might.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but the girl saw right through it.

“A wizard’s grave would be cursed, of course. You’d better have an awful good reason to want to go diggin’ there.”

That brought Aidan’s temper to the surface, but he let it cool before he spoke again. “Believe me. I do. And I don’t believe in curses. That’s child’s talk.”

For all that his words did, he might as well have slapped her. Slaíne recoiled.

Aidan laughed. “You really do believe in them?”

It was her turn to grow angry, it would seem. “How could I not?”

He leaned back, and his manner became playful. “Is this about your supposed