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

there was a blanket and a pillow sitting on the chair near the fireplace, which was now crackling merrily. He looked over at the tub of water, which was murky and tepid to the touch. It would be easy enough to Dismiss the dirt and oils from it. Perhaps he would…in the morning, and without the girl there, of course. Now all he wanted was to lie down and sleep

With a soft grunt, he placed the pillow down on the floor and settled down on the small area rug before the blaze. He covered himself with the blanket, noticing she had left him the thicker one. The gesture wormed its way into his heart, and he tried very hard to think of something other than the warmth spreading through his chest.

As he settled, sleep crept up on him, drawing him into a dreamless rest. And resting on the edge of unconsciousness, he heard a soft voice singing.

“A gent had me soft heart in his pocket

Tiddily do tra la day

A gent had me poor heart in his pocket

O it bled, and he did not do nothin’

Woe, woe, tiddle do tra la day

O me heart, he reft it in three small parts

Tiddily do tra la lee

O me heart, left berefted and wasted

Bled dry as paper, no love left for me

Tiddily do tra la la lee.”

* * *

Aidan woke from his sleep feeling rested and untroubled. But the world, he observed upon rising to his feet, was still dark. With no frame of reference other than the sky, Aidan moved to the window, saw the waning moon on its decline, and guessed it to be two in the morning.

A glance at Slaíne, and he was reassured that he had not been too noisy in his movements. She must have grown overheated during the night, for her coverlets were thrown over, revealing the greenish yellow of her long-sleeved day dress.

He squinted in the darkness, looking around for the boxes. They were piled on the floor next to the dresser. Curiosity got the better of him, and he approached them as he would a sleeping beast. With one look over his shoulder, he was at ease that Slaíne was good and truly asleep, and he pulled back the brown wrappings of the dressmaker’s boxes.

One dress was blue, the other a deep green. What am I doing? he wondered to himself. He’d given her the money, asked her to buy herself dresses; did he think she would cheat him? What had he been expecting to find? Frivolities? He knew little of the girl, and yet…and yet he knew without a doubt that she would never swindle him. Desiring to no longer explore his intentions or feelings brought on by his sneaking, Aidan moved back to the window.

When he looked out, he noted there was more activity in the square than had been there before. The dresses forgotten, he watched as people took to running. Some poured out of the inn. Their footfalls and grumblings echoed below. Aidan felt the men’s Pulls. Yes, they were all men; he could just make out their attire in the lamplight. But why the mob? He closed his eyes and felt for others. It was in that moment, when he realized each man was carrying something, that the shouting began.

Instinct took over as he Dismissed his belongings and hastily tugged on his boots. He tucked his one bronze dagger in its sheath before Summoning his copper dagger and sidling up to the door. He listened.

Slaíne stirred and mumbled something unintelligible before sitting bolt upright in bed. “What’s that noise?”

Aidan held up a finger for her to be quiet.

Men were still shouting, hasty footsteps were falling, and the sounds of chaos filled the night. Aidan moved to the window again. The mob had scattered, and men clothed in black filled the square. “Bandits,” he said, watching as the pillaging began.

“Bandits?” Slaíne didn’t sound afraid as he might have expected; rather, she sounded annoyed.

There was a firm rapping on his door. “Arm yourself! The wraiths are here.”

Aidan sheathed the dagger and Summoned the sword. Wraiths? Were there such things? If so, there was no fighting them. Feeling as though he was forgetting something crucial, he unbolted the door.

“Sir, don’t,” the girl said. “You can nay go out there.”

He smirked over his shoulder at her. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

Her frown deepened. “Aye, there will. If there ain’t no one to watch out for you.” She stumbled out of bed and rubbed her eyes. “Right. Where’s my sword?”

Aidan shook his head. “No, you are to stay here.”

“But the curse—”

“I won’t go that far.”

Slaíne raised her eyebrows. “Sir, what if you don’t have no choice?”

That was complicating things. He was wasting precious time where he could be helping. Even now the harbinger was running down the hall, banging on doors for a second time. It was all Aidan could do to remain there, calmly discussing how to go about this. “What is to be done?”

“Bring me or don’t go. Not that hard, actually.”

Aidan groaned. “If I don’t go down there, men might die. I have—”

“Abilities, yes. Ones you don’t want to go flaunting.”

Aidan bristled. “I never flaunt them.”

Slaíne gave him a hard stare. “Never said that. We’re wasting time.” She made a move toward him, the dress slipping and pooling around her legs in the moonlight. There she stood in her underthings, scowling. “Curses.”

It took a moment for Aidan to regain his wits and look away. “See? You are in no position to fight.”

“I’ll just wear my old clothes.”

This was going badly. Shouts had been taken up in the distance, and the town’s warning bell tolled. Every second he wasted here might cost someone their life. But taking her with him was out of the question. “No, you are staying here.”

“But—”

“That is an order, Slaíne.”

She recoiled from the words as though they had bitten her. “So, it’s still this?”

“Slaíne….” Whatever he was going to say, he knew it would not be enough. She’d never been his to order about; he’d never seen her that way. And