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

able to physically grasp the words he was looking for. “You know, what you do when you make things disappear and reappear.”

Aidan shrugged. He was not going to help the man out with his vocabulary, even if there was no choice but to help him with the task.

“Whatever you call it.” Dewhurst’s eyes flashed, and a cruel smile spread across his face, exposing small teeth. “You are not stupid, no matter how much I wish to believe it. You know exactly what will happen if you do not give me your full cooperation.”

Aidan pushed his luck. “Why do you need the Summoning Goblet?”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“I said why did you single out the Summoning Goblet? You said you wanted all six.” That earned Aidan a kick in the shin.

“I do not see how that is any of your concern.”

There was worry there. Something had Dewhurst scared, something that possession of the Summoning Goblet could assuage. But what?

Aidan resisted the urge to rub the spot where Dewhurst had kicked him, though it smarted something terrible. Instead, he studied the man’s face. Dewhurst did not look worried. His expression and his posture did nothing to betray anxiety. What had Aidan so convinced that this man was in all actuality terrified?

“My staff will bring down some breakfast shortly,” Dewhurst surprised him by saying. He read the expression on Aidan’s face correctly. “Must keep up your strength. But if you refuse nourishment, well….” He looked sideways at Slaíne. “If you refuse, she doesn’t eat either.” He let out a booming laugh, as if this whole ordeal were quite amusing to him. He snapped his fingers, and his two guards were at his side.

“Milord?” they chorused.

He held up a finger, indicating they should wait for his words. He addressed Aidan. “How far?”

Aidan frowned, wondering what he could mean. Then he realized that Dewhurst was referring to the boundaries of the curse, how far he, Dewhurst, could be from Slaíne before it took hold. So, he wasn’t as stupid as he looked. “No more than ten yards,” Aidan replied, though he believed the distance to be longer.

Dewhurst considered him for a moment, nodded, then turned to his men. “Carry the girl upstairs after me. Then send Cook to me. I have special instructions.” Without another word to Aidan or anyone, the lord of the manor turned on his heel and sauntered across the dungeon floor and up the wooden stairs, his one guard carrying Slaíne after him.

The other guard remained for a moment, regarding Aidan with interest. He waited until the footsteps on the stairs had retreated, then reached inside his vest.

Aidan watched him warily.

Without a word, the guard handed a small iron box to Aidan, who accepted it with some reluctance. “Open it,” the man mouthed, his expression earnest.

Aidan did so, and was surprised to see a slip of paper. He looked up at the guard, his mouth starting to form a question, but the man snatched the iron box out of his hands, tucked it back into his pocket, turned heel and left.

At once Aidan opened the slip of paper and read, “Stay put. Don’t resist.”

He groaned and crumpled up the paper in his fist. For a brief second, he’d thought he might have an unexpected ally in the manor. Was this another one of Dewhurst’s tricks? Perhaps he had been trying to give Aidan false hope. Just to be on the safe side, Aidan tore up the note and hid the pieces in what appeared to be an ancient chamber pot.

An hour later, a grumpy woman in a filthy apron carried a tray containing a plate and cup, but no cutlery. She slammed the tray down in front of Aidan and backed away. “You’re lucky you’re gettin’ anything,” she barked.

Aidan raised his eyebrows at her but said nothing.

“Don’t you look at me like that. Well, go on. Eat.”

Aidan did not move.

With an exasperated sigh, the woman pulled a horsewhip out of her back pocket and came at Aidan. “I’m not ter leave until you’ve et every last crumb.”

Aidan looked at the plate. There were two pieces of burnt toast, a slab of fatty bacon, and two fried tomatoes. He did not wish to admit it to himself, but food sounded wonderful just now. If he had been unconscious for as long as he thought, then he hadn’t had a substantial meal in over three days.

Slowly and deliberately, Aidan nibbled away at the toast, all the while watching the cook to see how fast he could get a rise out of her. Perhaps it was not the smartest thing to do.

The woman, built more like a burly man than anything, brandished the whip more than once, her lips pursed. “Master said you stole important papers.”

Aidan looked her up and down, then gave the woman a non-committal shrug.

Her expression soured even more. “Eat faster. Like I haven’t got better things ter be doing than watching thee pick at yourn food.”

Aidan washed down the rest of the toast with a swig of water, which he first studied for strange Pulls. This sent the woman over the edge. She raised her whip to strike, but Aidan Dismissed it before it could come within in an inch of his face.

“Thanks for that.”

Eyes wide and body trembling, the cook all but tripped over herself to get away. “Devil’s work! What are you?”

Again Aidan shrugged. He finished the rest of the meal, no longer able to hide his hunger, and the woman watched him, her eyes filled with horror.

The second he drained the remainder of water from the cup, and there was not a speck of food left on the plate, the cook snatched up the tray and fled up the stairs, faster than he’d thought her girth would allow.

So, not all of the staff knew what Dewhurst was up to. As Aidan searched for something to pick the manacle’s lock with, he wondered if he could use that information to get a few of them on his side.

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