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

him a disoriented moment to figure out what he was seeing and feeling.

Slaíne, normally the cynic and door-watcher, lay against him in the grass, shivering in her sleep as she hugged herself. The early morning air bit at him as well, but neither that nor the strange vision were what held his attention. Had the previous night’s revelations ripped down some barrier between them…at least, in her mind? Aidan did not know how that made him feel. But those thoughts were meant to be saved for a later date, for the girl tossed in her sleep, lashing out with her arms violently and nearly clapping him with her elbow.

But a moment passed, and Slaíne sat upright with a jolt, her eyes opening wide in alarm. She gasped, and her breath clouded the frigid air. She looked over at Aidan, frowning, then scooted away, her face wrinkled up in obvious distaste.

Aidan sighed. Well, it would seem nothing had changed materially as he had first thought. No need to fret, then. “Good morning.”

Muttering, the girl stumbled to her feet and into a nearby cluster of bushes. Aidan knew better than to follow her.

After taking care of some necessary business, he summoned one of the precious water skins from Nothingness. He took a small gulp and waited for Slaíne to return, which she did presently, a frown upon her face.

She gave him an odd look, and then shook her head. “Right. What are we to do now?”

Aidan’s chest heaved. It would be dangerous, returning to Breckstone, never mind breaking and entering Lord Dewhurst’s property. The last time he’d been there…. Aidan shuddered at the thought. All these thoughts took but a split second to pass through his mind, before he spoke. “Slaíne.”

“Sir,” she threw back.

He arched a brow, but said nothing of her tone. “I cannot ask you to put yourself in peril.”

Slaíne groaned.

Aidan held up a hand to waylay her protestations. “However, our – er, connection and circumstances being unique, I fear that cannot be avoided.”

She looked at him with her piercing gray eyes, and Aidan nearly lost his resolve. What right had he to ask her? Yet, though little did he know of her, he knew well enough not to tread lightly and dance around the issue. He latched his courage on her strong will and continued.

“Dewhurst lives about four miles from where I grew up. If we are to travel there….”

“Aye?”

“We will need to be discreet and swift. I traveled to Breckstone recently to sell my estate to a friend.”

“Could he help us?”

Aidan laughed. “That friend has, shall we say, other interests now.”

It was Slaíne’s turn to raise her brows, but she said nothing, though curiosity burned in her eyes.

“No, you and I are the only ones we can trust now. I am not well known there anymore, though there may be circulations of my image. I am not known, however, for having a traveling companion.” Here he looked at her pointedly. “If I were to travel as your servant—”

Slaíne laughed at this without humor. “That’s likely.”

Aidan gave her a dark look and continued. “Think of it. No one looks to or at the servant, but to the master or mistress. It would, of course, be somewhat inappropriate, a lady traveling alone with no other female company….”

Her eyebrows rose higher still.

“But we shall raise questions no matter how we go about this, and less so if you and I switched roles, so to speak. Besides, your dress is fine enough, and my clothing’s worn enough, that this might just work.”

Slaíne puffed out her cheeks and released a gush of breath. Her frown deepened. “What of…ye know?” She pointed to her mouth, and Aidan understood at once.

“Your dialect isn’t common around here.”

“It’s low-class, that’s what it be.”

Aidan shook his head. “In these parts, no one but a traveler would have come across it. What are its origins?”

Her face darkened, and her lips formed mutterings as to discourage Aidan from asking further.

“Slaíne, this is important. If we are to decide upon a cover story, I am going to need all the information you can give me.”

The look on the girl’s face lightened a little, but she said nothing and reached for the bladder, which he provided. After taking a silent swig, she said, “Well, me mam and fadder were high, I s’pose. But I don’ much recollect them. The elves….” Slaíne paused to growl through her teeth. “They had their own language when speakin’, and I can nay rightly say I caught onto any of it. What I did understand was as you heard when you was ’round them.” She sighed. “Other than that, we talked to folk in many a different town, me mostly doin’ the talkin’.”

Aidan nodded. “You’ve had a Roma’s life.”

Slaíne made a face. “Don’ reckon I ever met the kind, sir.”

While she was talking, Aidan felt for Pulls, still found no human ones near enough to raise alarm, and Summoned some rations he’d stored: an apple and a slice of cheese each, which he’d wrapped up at the inn and Dismissed when no one had been watching. He offered Slaíne her half of the meager meal, and she treated it like a feast. “Let’s walk,” he said through a mouthful of apple.

The girl only nodded, licking her fingers as they took off.

Yester-year’s leaves crackled and crunched lustily beneath his boots, and branches reached out to snag his traveling cloak. Annoyed and hindered, Aidan Dismissed the garment from his body.

In contrast, Slaíne made nary a sound as they traveled, and the brush seemed to treat her more kindly than it did him. She swore through a mouthful of ancient apple, her face enraptured. “Almost good as new.”

Aidan nodded. “Hunger will do that to your taste buds. Nothing tastes so good after burning off a whole two days’ nourishment in the course of two hours.”

She swore again, and Aidan bit down on the corners of his mouth.

“You’ll introduce yourself as an islander.”

“Which island?”

Aidan shrugged. “I don’t think it really matters.