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

a small word. Yet as he thought of what they’d called Slaíne, his blood rose to a boil again, and he was forced to brush past the women, ignoring their comments on the ordeal as he thundered up the stairs.

It had been foolish of him to engage in any type of violence. The last thing he needed was the law’s attention, especially considering he was wanted in these parts as much as in Breckstone. He’d best steer clear of trouble from here on out. He breathed deeply. Somewhat calmed by his quick jog up the stairs, he pulled out his key and entered his room. He was surprised to find the maid in there. “Miss?” he asked as Slaíne and Larkin came up behind him.

“Wha’s she doin’ in here?” Slaíne wondered, none too quietly.

“Cleaning, ma’am,” the starch-stiff woman said. Her back was ramrod straight, but her expression had gone from bewildered to belligerent. “’Tis my rightful duty, ’tis.”

Aidan felt a headache coming on. “Yes, of course.”

“You sure travel light.”

Aidan raised his eyebrows. “Miss?”

“There ain’t nothing in ’ere.” Her tone implied that she did not trust people who carried little with them.

Slaíne stepped around Aidan. “A fire burned our house to the ground. What we wear is all we have left.”

Larkin sighed. “Does it really matter? It isn’t no job of a serving girl to be asking such pointed questions. Now, off with you. Shoo!”

Aidan and Slaíne stepped to opposite sides, and the maid hurried out of the room with a great huff.

“Nosy beast.” The seer shook her head.

“You didn’t know she was in there?”

Larkin scowled at him. “I can’t foresee everything. You didn’t sense her in there?”

Aidan folded his arms. “Her Pull wasn’t particularly strong, so no.” He wasn’t about to say that he couldn’t feel it because Slaíne’s was tugging at him so hard, he half wondered if she had some control over it and was annoying him on purpose.

The woman stepped inside and looked around the room. “Nothing seems to be missing.”

“’Course something’s missing. Maids are like that.”

That amused Aidan. “You ever steal anything, Slaíne?”

She glared at him. “Never was a servant, sir. Just a slave.”

“Are we going to discuss what happened downstairs, or are we going to gloss over the fact that His Lordship nearly took down a man a head shorter than he?”

“Oh, enough,” Slaíne said.

The seer tutted and perched on the window seat as Slaíne took the chair near the door. “Milord, we can’t have you going after every man who questions the girl’s honor.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “Noted. Now, can we discuss what actually matters?” The woman stared at him blankly. Slaíne did not look at him at all, but picked at her sleeve. “Tomorrow I have decided that we are to leave this town. I never like to stay in a place for too long.”

“The law might find you.”

He nodded once. “Or worse. Now, you say that Dewhurst keeps the map in his mansion?”

The seer regarded him for a moment before speaking. “Yes. The old lard tub keeps it in a locked drawer in his study. Should be easy enough to get to…once we’ve managed to house-break, that is.”

Slaíne groaned. “They’ll hang us for that.”

“Not if we don’t get caught.”

“And you have a way of ensuring that?” Aidan looked the woman squarely in the eye, as if he might be able to draw the truth from their depths, or at least discern it.

Larkin stared right back at him. “After tonight, I will tell you the plan.”

Aidan forgot himself and swore.

“Now, milord, you take certain things for granted, such as the fact that I don’t quite trust you. What’s to stop you from taking my plan and fleeing tonight under cover of darkness?”

He looked heavenward. “And tomorrow you’ll share this plan of yours?”

“I will tell you then, and not a moment sooner.”

He did not desire her plan, inasmuch as he desired to test the mettle of her words. For all he knew, she would lead him straight into another trap, and he hoped to be the one to turn the tables on her once he’d figured out how she meant to do it.

Shortly after, a different maid brought up a sampling of meats and cheeses for their requested midday meal. She set it on the side table, gave Aidan a funny look, and left as quickly as she had come.

Though far from hungry, Aidan figured he would need his strength, should he find himself forced to fight wraiths. Not that he planned on facing them. He had enough on his mind, and fighting spirits was the last thing he wished to do.

Slaíne was the first to reach for the food on the tray. “Right. So, what if the wraiths return tonight?”

“We’ll do as we did the night previous,” Aidan said, trying to keep his voice even. When Slaíne began to protest, he held up a hand and interrupted her. “We can’t join every adventure that comes our way. We’ve more important things to think about and prepare for than some local conflict.”

With a disgusted grunt, Larkin joined Slaíne and scooped up a handful of dates. Aidan knew full well what she thought of the idea, but he would not yield. Unless forced, he could not afford to. Fortunately, the seer did not voice her thoughts, and they were able to enjoy their meal in peace.

* * *

Later, when he was assured that Larkin and Slaíne were occupied in the seer’s room, Aidan sat down and composed a short letter. It was a risk that it should even find the right party, but he addressed the brief and cryptic missive, sealed it, and handed it over to a maid to be posted.

The serving girl eyed him askance but did as he asked, a ten-pound note tucked in her fist. “Anything else, sir?”

Aidan produced an even larger note and passed it to her. When the recipient’s eyebrows shot heavenward, he gave her a serious look and said, “For your secrecy.”

* * *

That evening, Aidan shut and