by Marie Hall
“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.
She blinked. “I don’t know.”
It wasn’t that Robin didn’t hear the thread of truth behind her words, he did, but nothing was making any sense.
“You know something, so speak, or Goddess help me, I’ll throw you to John’s tender mercies.”
From the corner of his eye, Robin saw John force the men to sit.
“I only know that a few moments ago my lamp was rubbed and I was summoned—”
“Impossible,” he sneered. “I was asleep. Only I can awaken you.”
“I don’t care what you believe!” She stomped her foot. “It’s the truth. I came out, and when I looked, Thane held my lamp and then Maurice came over and then all hell broke loose,” she stuttered, “and I don’t give a crap if you believe that or not, it’s the truth!”
“Dinnae believe the devil-tongued genie,” Maurice snapped, making to jump to his feet, but John delivered a blow to the man’s head that staggered him back onto his ass.
Her hands kept fluttering by her side like drunken butterfly wings in flight. “I didn’t compel this to happen, I swear it. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I possess no magic other than what my master requires.”
“Your history speaks against you, creature.” This was said by John.
A flash of something snapped through her eyes before she bit her lip, lowering her gaze to the ground. “That was a very long time ago, those powers have been stripped from me. Robin, you know I’m telling the truth.”
His magic was in seeing the truth. Not why something was the truth, or how something was the truth, but the truth. Robin could hear it in the words, see it behind a blanket of shadows, nothing could be hidden from him.
The genie stood with her spine stiff, her back straight, and her cheeks glowing with a hot rush of blood. Her words rang with conviction.
All of which kept telling Robin she at least believed what she was saying. There was more to this story, but the genie likely didn’t know it.
He frowned. “You speak truth, don’t you?”
“Duh.” She was quick to agree. “It’s what I keep trying to tell you idiots! I didn’t. Do. This!”
John sputtered. “Then what did happen?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Exactly what I said, how many times do I have to repeat myself?”
“Maurice. Thane.” Robin turned on his men, who were still glowering down at the ground. “Did you do this?”
“No,” they said together, and immediately Robin felt the lie shiver across his flesh like oily, sticky fingers.
He snarled. Even John, not sensitive to truth as Robin was, shook his head.
“Why?” John asked. “Why would you do this thing? Do you not understand that—”
A loud pop sounded beside the genie and then a ball of brilliant, glowing pink light manifested, coalescing into the body of a fairy with striking brown hair and blue eyes and a brilliant set of dragonfly wings flitting gracefully behind her.
The miniature fairy glanced around the scene with methodical acumen before slowly turning toward Robin.
He tilted a brow. “And you are?”
“Her friend,” the fairy said without the slightest trace of offense, “and someone who watches over her closely.”
“Danika?” the genie murmured with a shaky voice. “What are you doing here?”
Glancing over at the genie, the fairy gave a cheery smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, Nixie, my dear, it just so happened that I’ve been spying on you.”
Nixie lifted a brow. “Not much to see. I’ve been caged for some time.”
Dani smiled. “It’s why I had my crows there and not myself. I’ve only just been notified of your release and wanted to make certain for myself that you were all right. Your parents have been despondent since your confinement. And I’ve come not a moment too soon, I’d say. I saw what really happened.”
The way she said it had Robin’s shoulders jerking back. He believed the genie, but it would be good to have more proof offered to John than merely his word saying it was so.
“Saw what?” Robin’s tone was curt.
Maurice’s jaw trembled, and Thrane growled.
“Perhaps it is better if I showed you.” Danika inclined her head, then with a flick of her wand a wavering image coalesced before them—strands of colors that slowly became images.
Robin immediately recognized the grove he and the genie had been resting in. He cocked his head as a shadow crept through the scene. The fire had almost completely gone out by then, the light too weak to highlight exactly who the figure was.
But the build was large and wide, an exact replica of Thrane.
The shadow reached into Robin’s shirt and slowly eased the lamp out. Once it was well and truly in his hand, the shadow—who Robin now knew could be none other than Thrane—forced Robin’s fingers across the length of the lamp, and then ran like a wraith across the bridge and up the side of the hill toward the camp. And just as Nixie had said, Maurice came into view a moment later, a fight ensued between the two of them, and Nix stood off to the side looking at them in a confused daze.
“Robin?” she’d asked, frowning at the bodies lying on the ground beside her. Only to then glance over and gasp in shock as John woke and, without even a word of warning, tackled her down to the ground.
Robin was breathing heavy by the time Danika’s image melted away. His eyes found John’s and for the first time in his life, he wanted to physically break his friend. Wanted to shove his sword through the man’s gut for daring to hurt her in that way.
John would not look back at him.
The brothers looked down at their feet before Thrane whispered softly, “I was overcome.”
Maurice never uttered another word, but there was a look of shame overtaking him.
John groaned. “Bloody hell.”
And though Robin heard the remorse, it didn’t assuage his fury.
“How?” Robin asked Thrane. “Did you drug me?”
Danika’s wings buzzed impatiently. “That’s a right dumb question, Hood. You know he has, or they both have. What does it matter? You’ve seen what they’ve done, and now you know what you must do.”
She sounded not just irritated, but angry, and if Robin had to guess at why, it was because of the way his men treated the genie. The fairy was right: there was only one thing left to do.
Nixie rubbed her left bicep in a repetitive up and down motion, as if to soothe herself. Robin wanted to tug her into his arms, wanted to promise her it would never happen again.
“Genie, we must speak.” Robin looked at the rest of the group. “Alone.”
Patting the genie’s arm, Danika nodded. “I should leave, love, I just…”—she shot a meaningful glare at the men—“I couldn’t let them blame you for something you hadn’t done. And know this, Robin Hood.” The tiny fairy twirled on him. “I’m always watching. You treat her right or I’ll sic my witch on you.”
For all that she was tiny, the wee fairy had an aura about her that seemed larger than life. He wasn’t afraid, but he knew she’d not given him an idle threat.
Fairy godmothers were generally considered to be gentle and motherly, yet another lie perpetuated by themselves and their masterful storytelling.
Giving the genie a kiss on the cheek, Danika whispered, “I’ll let your parents know how you are, dear. ‘Tis good to see ye back among the living.”
With those final words, she vanished.
Turning to look at John, Robin clipped his head. “Stay here, all of you.”
John’s eyes narrowed as
he drew a hammy fist through his hair. “I did not know.”
As far as apologies went, it was weak. Robin was still too angry to accept it. With a glare at his men, he shook his head.
His men wanted her. John was too prone to wanting to kill her. Robin had hoped by keeping their camps separate an incident like this would never happen, but now he saw he’d need to waste a wish after all.
Bloody hell.
“All of you make your way back to Sherwood. The genie and I travel separately,” he snapped.
Robin was sure it was only John’s sense of duty that made him obey. Turning on his heel, the big man walked over to the brothers. “Get up then, you bloody bastards.” He slapped Thrane in the back of the head forcefully.
Crooking a finger at Nix, Robin swiped up her lamp and tucked it beneath his shirt, back where it belonged. Some of his anger immediately calmed when the cool metal rubbed against his heat.
The genie sidled over to him, so close that the fabric of her clothes brushed up against his arm. He took several deep, steadying breaths to bring his tumultuous emotions back under control.
When had Thrane drugged him? When he’d gone up to their camp earlier for the rabbit? She’d eaten the rabbit too and had seemed to suffer no ill effects.
Then he recalled the bit of wine he’d had when Thrane had thrust his pouch in Robin’s face. He’d never thought to say no. Never thought it was anything other than a simple offering of wine.
Money had never come between he and his men before, thieves they might all be, but he’d always somehow thought them honorable when it came to their own.
Now he knew, all men had their price. Even the most loyal.
Her skin looked pale, the whites of her eyes red.
“You need sleep.” He said it low, feeling suddenly terrible that she’d yet again been made to suffer at the hands of men he’d thought he’d known.
“What I need,” she whispered back, “is to be freed of this curse. But since that’s not likely to happen anytime soon, then I’ll just settle for you making your wishes so I can get the hell away from here.”
He flinched and she closed her eyes, rubbing her fingers over her clavicle.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I shouldn’t have—”
He grabbed her hand until she opened her eyes. “Yes, you should. You have every right to be angry. At them. At me. We’ve all treated you poorly.”
Brown eyes widened.
It pricked at Robin’s conscious to see her looking so pallid. It wasn’t that he was a cold or heartless man, but he was purposeful. For so long he’d had only one motivation in life: to right the wrongs done long ago.
And if that meant shutting off emotion, focusing only on the task at hand, and not worrying about what the cost would be, then so be it. The realization that somewhere along the lines he’d become cold and detached twisted his gut in knots.
“Robin.” She laid a palm on his shoulder. Her gentle voice cut him to the quick.
He wasn’t sure what she meant to say, and he wasn’t entirely sure she knew either. His name hung between them.
She looked sad more than upset. He rubbed his chest when she finally stepped away and resumed walking.
Why should it bother him what she thought? She was just a genie, a creature crafted to grant wishes, not a person. Not a true one, anyway. That’s how he always thought of them, sentient beings, but born to do one thing only, obey the whims of their owners without question.
But he was coming to see that for the lie it was. Last night, how her eyes had shimmered when she’d spoken of home. Her story of how she’d been ripped from her family, from the only home she’d ever known, she’d felt real to him. Not just crafted by magic, but a woman who’d felt and lived and had dreams. A woman who, through no fault of her own, was all alone and thrust into one dangerous environment after another. With no one to watch out for her. No one to protect her.
When he’d seen John straddling her, his fingers so near her throat, the violent intensity of emotion Robin had felt at the sight of it had shaken him to his very core.
They’d been walking now for a few minutes, long enough that he could no longer see his men.
“What happened yesterday, and now this morning, it should never have happened, and it will never happen again. I vow it.”
She nodded and then gathered her hair, twisting the strands through her nimble fingers until she’d created a thick braid of it. His heart clenched at the sight of the purplish-black bruises creeping up her neck.
What’d happened to him? To his men? There’d been a time that to lay hands upon a woman would have sent Robin into a fit of violence. He’d have lobbed off any male’s hands for daring to do it; there’d been honor once in his bunch. Now he wasn’t sure if that was the case anymore.
Clenching his jaw, he trailed a finger up the delicate skin of her neck. “Can you not heal this?”
She shivered beneath his touch. Her eyes going wide and her cheeks heating with blood. He pulled his hand back. But already he’d memorized the velvety softness of her flesh, the way it prickled and danced beneath his touch.
She clapped a hand over her neck as if burned. “On-only if I slip into my lamp.” She cleared her throat; her fingers flitted over the spot where he’d been touching her.
The cool pre-dawn felt suddenly hot and sticky. Frowning at his overwhelming emotions, Robin took a step back, placing some distance between them.
She glanced off to the side.
“You need food, water, and then we must talk,” Robin said, then cleared his throat. Whatever he was feeling, or not feeling, he must never forget that he still had a mission to accomplish.
They walked on a little longer in silence, until Robin spied a bush with glistening red berries on it.
“Raspberries. Do you like them?” He pointed.
She nodded. “I didn’t back home. But I think I’m too hungry to be picky.”
The sky gleamed a pale pinkish-orange. The farther they moved from the sulfur pools, the more crisp and clean the air smelled. The less stifling and humid it was too.
Robin had continued to follow the brook’s trail. This would be a perfect spot to eat, drink, and talk.
“I’ll gather the berries, go drink and do what you must, then meet me back here. Aye?”
She nodded, and he could almost feel the relief emanating in waves off her as she hurried off.
The genie returned less than five minutes later, her skin gleaming as though she’d washed her face and hands, and the exhaustion that’d laced her features earlier no longer seemed so pronounced.
Robin had gathered all the ripe berries off the bush he could find. Dividing them evenly on two large leaves. Patting the ground beside him, he shoved one of the leaves in her direction when she sat.
“We need to talk.”
“So you keep saying.” Her words weren’t curt, or short, but he definitely heard the thread of exasperation behind them. “But you saw what Danika showed you, I didn’t do it, so why you—”
He popped a berry into his mouth, swallowing before interrupting her. “Is that what you think? That I’m still unsure if you’ve beguiled my men? I’m not.”
Frowning, she shoved a handful of berries into her mouth. “Then what is this?”
Dusting the dirt off his hands, Robin, studied her thoughtfully. “It pains me to say it, but I think I need to use my first wish.”
By the startled look in her dark eyes, he knew he’d surprised her. “Wow. That wasn’t at all where I thought this conversation would be leading. What’s your wish?” She wiped her red-stained fingers off on her pants, gazing at him intently.
Robin’s skin felt warm under the pressure of her sharp gaze. A gentle breeze kissed her temples, drawing a length of her unpinned hair across the swells of her breast.
“They must forget.”
“What?” Her dark brows dipped. “Who must forget?”
“All three of them.” He scratched the side of his
neck. “They must forget you. I thought I could trust them. I know now I can’t. And if I have to take you back into that camp, which, unfortunately, I do, I cannot do it while wondering if my men will attack again. You’re far too precious for me to lose.”
He hadn’t meant to say those last words, and he wasn’t exactly certain that he meant them the way they sounded, but he wasn’t sure he hadn’t either. They didn’t know each other, and yet, from the moment they’d been lifted into the air together, he’d felt a bond and kinship with her he’d never felt with another soul in his life.
He wanted to protect Nixie. At all costs.
She didn’t speak again for a minute; instead she chewed on the last few berries, her gaze never moving from his face, before finally saying, “It is probably wise.”
“Genie, I must know, has this ever happened to you before?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Up until now I’ve been a genie. Just a plain, simple genie. Not this dark genie that you told me about.” She sighed.
She was on the verge of tears. But he didn’t know that because of the way she said it, or because there was a shimmer of wetness in her eyes. Her eyes were dry and her voice steady. He knew it, because he could feel her anguish as if it were his own.
Her fear that her new legacy might haunt her with each new master she acquired. And though it should be impossible for him to be as certain of that as he was of his own thoughts, he didn’t question that it was so.
But there was nothing he could do to calm those fears. Much as he might want to. So he popped his remaining handful of berries into his mouth and chewed slowly.
Frowning at his sticky hands, he rubbed them down on his pants before saying, “Well then, genie, it’s time…”
Chapter 8
The fiery rush of magic filled her limbs, pulsed through her body in prickling waves of heat. Nixie recalled his words. How she’d always grant a wish to the letter, how she wasn’t as devious as the rest of her kind.
It would be so simple for her to twist his words, to make them forget everything. Not just this trip, but all of it. To turn Robin’s most trusted man into one who no longer recognized him.
She swelled with the power of his wish, feeling omnipotent, so full of energy that if she didn’t release it soon she’d combust from it.