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

Was that what brought him to that strange realm in his dreams? He needed to know more. “Slaíne, I have been having strange dreams.”

Slaíne waited as one braced for the worst news they could expect to hear. When he didn’t continue she turned away from him and whispered. “Did she send for you? Please don’t play with me. Tell me the truth.”

The truth was fragile on his lips. How to let it break? It mattered not; the look on her face told him that it had already been broken: Slaíne knew that he had been communicating with someone, and that that someone was Meraude, her most hated enemy. Aidan opened his mouth, scrambling for something to excuse himself and put her at ease.

With an exasperated sigh, the girl threw her head back and shouted. It was a quick burst of sound and, quite like her laughter, it raised the hairs on his arms. “Sir, you don’t know what you’re messin’ with.” She swore under her breath and closed her eyes, as one would whilst dealing with a rowdy child.

“Slaíne, I know she kills all magical beings. But— No, please listen. What if we could outsmart her? Snare her in the very traps she’s setting for us. Think about it.” Why did he have to explain himself to her? He almost said as much, but remembered that afternoon where she’d deliberately provoked the wrath of her own curse and bore the consequences. He bit his tongue.

When she spoke again, Slaíne’s voice was ragged and her eyes were the eyes of a woman who had seen too much in her short lifespan. “Perhaps it’s time to tell you about the curse.”

“You don’t have to.”

She laughed without humor. “Oh, but I think I have to. And not jus’ that, we need ter lay out all our information.” Slaíne squinted at him. “First, tell me what she offered you.”

It was too personal. It was indecent of her to ask. He sat there, warring with his temper and impatience.

Slaíne’s patience broke first. “Fine. I’ll start.” When she began, her gaze flickered off into the distance, and her whole body tensed. “I was not six years of age.” Her voice was a millstone, weighting Aidan down as he listened. “The curse, as you may have guessed, is tied to a person.”

Aidan nodded. “I gathered as much.”

“Whoever takes on the role of master or mistress is the one to which I’m tied. Can only go so far a distance from the person before it takes me. There’s only one way out, ’ccording to hearsay, but I won’t be puttin’ much stake in them rumors.”

Aidan frowned. If she wanted to remove the curse, why had she not tried every available route? She was still hiding things.

“Anyway,” she continued, scowling at him, “as you’ll have guessed, Meraude was a family friend.”

“And she did this to you?” he asked, his voice low.

She gave him a quick nod, then shook her head. “She killed my parents. Couldn’t do curses back then, I believe. Not powerful enough. Not yet, anyway.”

“But she didn’t kill you either.”

“No, didn’t have the chance.”

Fighting confusion, Aidan rubbed his brow. “So she didn’t put the curse on you?”

“Good as done,” she snapped. “Six years old, running on me own. Elves found me ’fore she. They had me cursed, yes, but I’d naught’ve run afoul of ’em if I’d not been forced to flee myself, see?” The longer she talked, the faster she talked, and the more pronounced her accent became.

Aidan needed to calm her down so he could understand her clearly. “I’m sorry, but please take a moment to collect yourself.”

She shook her head. “Nay, if I don’ tell you now, I might never have a chance. Mr. Aidan, she murdered me parents. But I was her true target.” Despite what she’d said, Slaíne paused and drew in a few deep breaths before continuing. “You wanted to know why the nymphs think me more a threat than you?”

He nodded, his brow furrowing. “I thought it was because you attacked.”

“An’ you know how I attacked?”

Aidan swallowed. “I assume by lunging—”

She opened her mouth, and he presumed she was going to tell him what she had done, but they were quite rudely interrupted by a loud bang and a blast of light. It would seem the camp was under attack.

Chapter Eight

Aidan moved without thinking as the ground shook. He felt for the iron chains and tried Dismissing any part of them that wasn’t made of the metal, and when that did not work and shouts were taken up in the distance, he explored the Pull of the lock itself. He felt into every corner, every crevice, and smiled when he discovered a lighter, softer metal inside the mechanism. Aidan Dismissed that, and the lock sprung open. “Hurry,” he urged, freeing Slaíne from the manacles.

Slaíne crawled out after him as crying filled the air. The landscape grew dimmer for that brief moment when they stepped out into the middle of the clearing. But moments later, the light came flooding back, nearly blinding both of them.

“It serves him right,” shouted one of the sprites, her voice an eerie pitch. “He was careless.”

The two prisoners exchanged looks. They were surrounded, so there was nowhere to run. Nowhere they could hide where they could not be found. They would have to fight their way out.

As if sensing more trouble, the creatures turned and faced Aidan’s way, their eyes flaming in their pale sockets. As one they yelled out a war cry and charged.

“Whatever you did before, care to try again?” Aidan shouted. “Slaíne?” He looked over at the girl to find her shaking her head.

“No good. Can’t carry you, now can I?”

Carry him? What did she mean by that? Well, whatever it meant, it was too late now. Their ‘hosts’ had them ringed in rightly, their iron weapons drawn.

A woman wreathed in blue light pushed through the crush, and the others took a few stooped steps backward. They were