Now here was a woman, a genie for goddess sake, who he knew nothing about. He’d barely just met her, and yet…and yet, it was like he’d known her his whole life. Like he’d only just been waiting until the day he met her to awaken from his stupor.
Like she was a vital piece of his soul that’d been missing from him and he hadn’t known it until she’d turned her exotic, doe-shaped eyes on him.
“Nixie,” he said her name.
Blood flooded her cheeks, filling them with a rosy glow. Unable to stand it a second longer, he got to his feet and in two short steps erased the distance between them. Laying his hands on her arms, he rubbed her delicate skin.
“Robin.” Her voice cracked. “I know who you should introduce me as to your men.”
She wanted to talk of business. He shuddered, dropping his hands. Probably she was right, they couldn’t entertain this…whatever it was.
She was a genie. She would leave him. Unless, unless he hoarded his last wish, refused to wish it until her time expired. Then maybe…maybe…
He frowned, realizing the absurdity of his thoughts. Twenty years of hiding who she really was to his men. It was impossible. Someone would find her lamp, figure out who she was, he’d never be able to hang onto her for very long.
With a sigh of disgust, he asked, “Who?”
“Maid Marian. From here on out, I’ll be known as Maid Marian.”
*
“I don’t have any coin, Robin,” Nixie said, eyeing the stalls down in the village. They’d walked for hours that day.
She was tired. Thirsty. And dirty. The last thing she wanted to do was go shopping for clothes.
Robin yanked on her wrist, trying to lead her down the hill.
The village below was quaint. There looked to be a village pub. A stonework building leaning slightly crooked. A couple of shanty, thatched-roof homes dotting the landscape, smoke curling up from chimneys, straw littering the muddied pathways, and a few stalls selling odds and ends. This place seriously looked like it could be the set for a medieval period movie.
They were only about ten miles east of Sherwood at this point, he’d said. But if she was going to look the part of a maiden fair, she needed to dress like one.
Well, yeah, but there was only one problem with that.
Snatching her hand out of his, she sighed. “Robin, I’m serious. I’m broke. I can’t buy anything down there.”
Finally, he stopped. Frowning at her. “By broke, I’m assuming you mean you have no money. But you’re a genie. Surely you’ve magic enough to make that.”
“Ssh,” she hissed, glancing around. Sure, there was no one around, but if she was going to convince the rest of his crew that she was who she said she was, she needed him to remember that she was a genie no more.
At least for the time being.
Nix crossed her arms. “I can’t use magic on myself unless I’m inside the lamp, I already told you that.”
His grin was huge and cocky, and made her toes tingle inside her golden slippers. At some point today Robin had gone through a metamorphosis. Nixie wasn’t sure why, or how, but it was almost like the moment she’d decided to play along with this charade, he’d decided on the very same.
The only encouraging thing about this whole situation was that she didn’t feel like she was in it alone.
“Well then, my lady”—he tossed an arm across his middle and bowed gallantly—“how fortunate you are that I just so happen to have a pocketful.”
Robin shook his breast pocket so that she could hear the jingle of money.
“Then let’s go shop!” She winked at him, swallowing a throaty laugh at his look that reminded her so much of her father’s when Mom went on one of her wild shopping sprees.
Even in Kingdom, it was good to know that certain things were universal. Like the thought of a woman shopping to a male.
“Aye, but first.” Robin held up a finger, then proceeded to pull a strip of cloth out of his pocket.
But the strip turned out to be much more than a strip, he pulled on and on and on like a magician would with his colorful string of kerchiefs. What at first seemed like nothing more than one long spool of red cloth was in fact a very ornate, very princely looking velvet cape.
She gasped and trailed a finger down the golden inseam of the finely crafted cape. “Are you sure you’re not magic?”
He chuckled, snapping it around his neck before quickly securing it. “I’ve many tricks up my sleeves, pet.”
“Or in your pocket.”
“Aye.” He winked. “Or that too.” Patting the fabric down, he spread his arms. “I curried favor with a band of dark elves once. They gave me this thing as payment. Amazing how the look of wealth can alter the perception of others. I’m a wanted man around these parts, Nixie—”
He’d said her name again. She wondered if he realized how often he was doing it now.
“But if I can keep the eyes upon the finery and the jewels”—he pulled several ruby and emerald rings out of his inner pocket, placing them on each finger—“then they’ll never stop to question who I really am. Besides, my true face isn’t known.”