Nixie wetted her lips.
He tossed her the apple. “Magic pocket. If it can fit inside, I can wish for it.”
She took a bite and it was as sweet and crunchy as she remembered the last one being.
“As to you being the demon, well, it was a risk I was willing to take.”
“You say I’m soft,” she murmured a moment later, “and I’ll give you that, maybe I am, I haven’t granted as many wishes as others, but I’ve seen enough to know these things rarely end well. You want a piece of advice, don’t wish for things, even when I grant them. They rarely turn out the way you’d like. Sometimes what we need most is what we already have.”
It was his turn to frown.
“I’m not an idiot, genie, I’m not swayed by avarice.”
She swallowed her bite of apple. “Then tell me once and for all, what is it you want?”
He hesitated only a second before answering, “The keys to my kingdom.” Then shoving off the ground, he got up and paced for several minutes and it pained her to see the contemplative look on his face. To recognize that she might be the one known as a demon, but he’d been haunted by them.
It was clear in his tight posture, in the way his eyes stared off into the distance. She’d never really cared before what the wishes would be. Never wondered. Because they were almost always the same.
But with Robin, she did wonder. Did want to know what was going through his head.
With a sigh, he shoved a hand through his hair and resumed his seat. “If you’re ready, then come settle down, pet, we’ve an early morning.” He patted the grass beside where he’d made his bed for the night, and then promptly rolled over, as if she were no longer worthy of his attention.
Disappointed in him didn’t even begin to describe how his words made her feel. Feeling just a little on the rebellious side, she crossed her arms, determined not to get into her lamp until she was good and ready to do it. She would not lie beside him, even though that was clearly what he intended.
“Not greedy, huh?” Nixie muttered, peering into the darkness where he lay. They were all the same, even the ones who believed themselves honorable. With a disgusted sigh, she slipped into her lamp and the exhaustion of the day helped her to forget where she laid her head that night.
*
Screams and shouts were what woke Robin up from a restless sleep.
Shaking the dreams away, he sat up, staring at the inkblot dotted landscape warily. The night was unusually silent. He frowned.
He could have sworn he’d heard something. But maybe it’d just been—
“Release me!”
The sound of her voice was like a jolt of adrenaline. He’d had the lamp tucked under his shirt. He patted his chest, and that was when the panic really gripped him. Where was the lamp? Where was the genie?
Mouth grown suddenly dry, still not even certain what was going on, he raced across the bridge and toward his men’s camp. Why was the genie with his men? What had happened last night?
He could hardly remember anything for the fog in his head.
“Let me go!” Nixie screamed even louder. “Just listen to me, just listen!”
“No, no words. I told Robin you were a devil, and whether he believes me or not, I’ll be saving him from himself.” John’s raspy voice sliced through the night.
Pulse pounding out of control, Robin sprinted into camp, breathing heavily as his muddied brain tried to make sense of the chaos before him.
The genie was on the ground with John straddling her waist, a furious look upon his face as he kept his hand clamped on her shoulders. Behind them stood Maurice and Thrane, their faces bloodied and bruised.
“What is this?” Robin snapped, finally able to speak around the thousands of thoughts rolling through his head.
John glowered. “I wake up to discover the genie walking amongst us, the lamp in our camp, and Thrane and Maurice trading blows. She’s beguiled us all, turned us against each other—”
“I haven’t!” she screamed, voice thick and gravelly as she kicked out her feet. Turning to look at Robin, her eyes silently pleaded with him. “Why do you think I didn’t slip back into my lamp when I had the chance? I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Maurice and Thrane glowered at the ground, both men silent and breathing heavily. What the devil had happened? And how had he slept through it?
“Release her.” Robin turned to John.
John looked aghast. “You cannot be—”
“Now.” Robin’s tone brooked no argument.
John snapped his hand back as if burned, then slowly stood, but still glared down at the furious genie.
“How did you do that?” she asked, rubbing her throat and grimacing when she swallowed, staring pain filled, accusatory eyes at John.
Robin jerked his chin at John, indicating he stand guard over the other two men.
Angry at what’d happened right beneath his nose and at the dull fog still trapped in his head, Robin’s heart hardened as he glared at her.
“Why are you here?” he snapped.