by Marie Hall
Standing, she held her arms by her sides, showing through posture that she wasn’t afraid of Rivet, nor would she back down. “He was a foul, lecherous man, and he deserved his death. My only regret is that I have shamed my family name.”
Rivet’s eyes widened, as if shocked that she’d dare to stand so bold before him, even in the face of his wrath. The air around them quickened, and then Cyrus joined them.
If it’d been Babak she could have held firm to her pride, but seeing the kindly face of the aged genie made her have a sudden flash of her father as he must have once been when he’d dared to allow love to dictate his heart.
She was ruined. There would be no golem to protect her. Her parents would—
Cyrus sighed heavily, gazing around quietly at the bloody scene before him. He didn’t look nearly as aloof as Rivet had. His robe of starlight swished around his short frame as he moved silently through the tent.
“Rivet, you may leave us,” Cyrus said a moment later, turning a gimlet eye on the proud genie.
“But Sagr, the girl must—”
Nixie wrapped her arms around her middle, truly afraid for the first time. Why was Cyrus sending Rivet away? What would they do now? Not only to Nix herself—she held out very little hope for anything other than a slow death as her father had once been dealt—but what did they plan for Luminesa? Would they bring Josiah back? Was that even possible?
Cyrus might look ancient with his long-flowing beard trailing upon the dirt and grass and his weathered skin, but he brimmed with power so strong it felt like her skin was being stroked by thousands of volts of raw electricity.
She’d found it odd the day she’d stood before the council that not only Rivet but Babak had deferred to Cyrus’s wishes in the end, and it seemed her first impression had not been far off the mark. Cyrus might not hold the centermost seat of power at the table, but he was the final authority on all things genie.
“Leave. Us.” The old man’s voice did not quiver as he stared up at the younger, more virulent Rivet.
With a hard clench of his teeth, Rivet tossed her one final withering look before vanishing in a puff of brilliant smoky gray shadow.
“Girl.” Cyrus glanced over Nixie’s shoulder. “Stand up, please.”
Realizing he spoke to Luminesa and not herself, Nix took a step to the left.
Swallowing hard, Luminesa stood. It was easy to see she was still horribly nervous; her fingers twiddled over her plain blue dress and her legs trembled. Nixie had hoped to have enough time to strip the memories from the girl’s head, taking the last few hours away from her completely so that she’d never need to remember the violence and brutality of what Josiah had done to her, but Rivet had found her too quickly.
Cyrus walked slowly up to her, stopping at a respectful distance, and holding up his hands in supplication when she jerked away like a startled rabbit seeking shelter.
“Stay right there.” She pointed at him. “Don’t come closer to me.”
“As you wish.” He bowed his head. “What has been done to you cannot be undone. There are no words of comfort to take away what Josiah has stolen from you. You must understand”—Cyrus patted Nixie’s wrist gently—“Nix had no choice but to follow her master’s orders. I’ve reviewed the incident and she followed every protocol exactly. She did not force you into his bed, she did not even force you to come to him—would you say this is true?”
Luminesa sniffed, rubbing the back of her nose with her wrist. “Aye. ‘Tis true. She told me why I was wanted, I came of my own accord. But you must know that I never expected him to—”
Nodding, Cyrus said, “Yes. We know. He has violated you most cruelly and for that, I shall give you a boon. I can erase your memory, make it so that you never remember what took place, not even Josiah himself.”
She clenched her jaw.
“Or,” he continued on, “you can have one wish. The option is yours.”
Nixie bit her bottom lip, pleading silently with Luminesa to take the first option. To take the comfort of forgetting.
“One wish, you say?”
“Luminesa,” Nixie piped up, “don’t do it, forget this. Forget him. Please, you don’t need to—”
Grabbing her shoulder, Cyrus shook his head roughly, giving Nix a hard and angry stare for the first time. That look, from the one genie she’d always felt to be a semi-ally, quelled Nixie’s words immediately.
Cyrus was angry with her. More than angry. For a second she’d allowed herself to hope that he’d understood, that he’d seen she’d done good, even if she’d broken genie law to do it. That hope died a swift and brutal death.
“It is not for you to decide for her, Nixie. You’ve done more than enough.”
The words pricked her heart and had her hanging her head in humiliation.
“I choose the wish then.” Luminesa’s voice was altered, no longer quivering and full of pain, but steely determination.
A cold and ominous chill snaked down Nixie’s spine. Her gaze flicked between Cyrus and the girl. Had he heard that too, or was it merely her imagination?
But the man stood thoughtful and seemed unfazed by the girl’s sudden about-face.
“I wish to never be at the mercy of a man’s hands again.”
Such benign words and yet Nix didn’t trust them.
“Granted.” Cyrus flicked his wrist and Luminesa was encased in a wall of ice.
Nix twirled on him. “What have you done?”
“She wishes to be cold and so I am making her cold. Do not worry, she is not dead, and when she is reborn she will be made of ice.”
She looked at the girl and as impossible as it was to believe, the thick block of ice didn’t seem to be imprisoning her, but rather seeping through her pores. Like Luminesa was ingesting it into her very soul.
Nix shivered.
“You have done wrong, my dear, and there is no escaping your punishment.”
“You saw what that madman did.” Nixie pointed to the spot where Josiah had last been. “He didn’t deserve to breathe, let alone—”
“That was not your decision to make! Even on Earth there are laws, Nixie. You must know this. Even the vilest must stand trial before a court. You cannot be judge, jury, and executioner.”
Bottom lip quivering, Nix took a deep breath. “I should not have killed him. I had no intention of harming him today—I came here to strip him of his wishes—but when I saw Luminesa—” Her voice cracked as the memory of that sight came back in startling clarity.
“You didn’t think,” Cyrus finished for her, his voice soft and gentle, but no less firm. “Just as your father didn’t think when his lover took him down a similar path. But there are always consequences to our actions, even ones that are well intentioned.”
She nodded. What else could she say to defend herself? Nothing, really. Now that the shock was starting to wear off, Nixie knew she’d done wrong. Yes, it’d been a moment of disbelief, with no forethought involved. Nix wasn’t used to the power she wielded, wasn’t used to the reality that in this new body of hers, that anything she wished she could have. She saw him and wanted him dead and so therefore he was.
“I will not sentence you to a half-life as your father was…”
“What?” She snapped her head up, stunned for the second time that day. “But I broke the law. I killed a man.”
If he wasn’t going to turn her into a ghost, then did he simply intend to kill her? Her heart raced. At least as a spirit she would have had a couple of years to come to terms with her eventual death, had a few more years with her family when they finally arrived.
“What is”—she swallowed hard—“what is my punishment then, Cyrus?”
“You shall be banished.”
Her brows gathered into a tight vee. “Banished?”
How was that punishment?
“Banished.” He nodded in agreement. “And the terms of our previous contract are now null and void. You shall be a genie for the full hundred years with no free
doms allowed you again.”
She gasped. Clutching her breast. She’d had her freedom for all of a few hours; now they were lost to her forever. The one day a year she’d cursed before, wishing for so much more, she’d do anything now just to get that one day back. But a hundred years. That was the worst of it.
“So I’m still going to be a genie, except banished?” Her chin wobbled. “For a hundred more years?”
Panic clawed at her brain. She’d been prepared for another forty-nine.
He nodded. “By breaking our laws, you broke faith, and have nulled out the terms.” Stepping forward, he chucked her chin. “I’m being as fair and just as I possibly can, Nix, but you must understand that with the position you’ve placed me in, restitution must be wrought. You’ll serve out your term in total darkness, shoved so far and so deeply into the ground that only the most persistent could ever have a hope of finding you. And that, too, whether you believe me or not”—his blue eyes pierced hers—“is a kindness. For I am still giving you a chance.”
The tears were streaming hard now, blinding her vision. She jerked her chin out of his grip and wiped her cheeks roughly with the backs of her hands. “Why are you doing this to me? Why don’t you just kill me? A life for a life?”
A hundred years. She wasn’t strong enough for that. She couldn’t do this. What would her parents think when they found out? That thought brought on another painful bout of tears.
“Because you are young, and were thrust into a world you didn’t understand. In many ways, I feel responsible for you, child. It was because of my judgment on your father that you find yourself here today. I was hasty then, and I…” He glanced down at his feet before quickly turning back to her. “I do not wish to repeat the past.”
“Why did you send Rivet away?”
“Because he too is young, and sees the world only in shades of black and white, but the punishment must fit the crime. Do you understand, dear?”
“I know I did wrong,” she sobbed, “but this seems...so—”
Cyrus shook his head, smoothly switching the subject. “You should know that while you’re exiled, you can receive no visitors, you can know nothing of your world, or your people. You cannot alter the contours of your lamp. You will be alone and in utter darkness.”
Her breathing hitched as the ramifications began to finally impress themselves upon her. “Cyrus, I can’t. I can’t do this.” She hugged her arms to her chest.
But if he heard, he didn’t act like it.
“You’ll be tied to your lamp in a way you’ve not been before. You can go no further than ten yards from it, ever. Your freedoms, what little you knew, they are all gone.”
She shook her head, watching as the tear dripped off her nose to land on the tips of her golden slippers. Death would be preferable to this. “I can’t—”
“Where you will be, you will never see the light of day.”
Heavy pressure centered on her chest. Buried alive. “Forever?”
“Until you are found, or your hundred years are up. Whichever comes first.”
She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed the frozen pillar of Luminesa.
No longer did her skin shine a pale luminescence; now there was a faint sheen of blue to it, like she’d been kissed by frost. Her lips were tinged in blue, her blonde hair had a faint pale blue tint to it. There was a harsh beauty to her now that’d not been there before.
The pillar looked up and blinked back at Nixie with lashes tipped in frost. Sadness tinged her features.
“Thank you, genie, for freeing me.” Luminesa’s words wrapped like an icy fist around her body and made her break out in a wash of goosebumps.
A jet of steam escaped Nixie’s lips as she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not.” Luminesa shook her head.
Cyrus’s lips thinned. “Stay strong, Nix, for I fear only the strength of your mind can sustain you now.”
It was like being buffeted by a raging tsunami. The power of Cyrus’s words unleashed a tempest of magic, dragging Nixie back kicking and screaming to her lamp, encasing her in a world of fiery pain.
She threw her arms out, trying to latch on to anything she could, but her form was immaterial. She fazed through trees, rocks, and dirt, slamming into her lamp and screaming as the cacophonous pitch of noise deafened her.
When it was over and there was nothing but silence, and all she could hear was the breath of her lungs and feel only the beating of her heart, she truly understood the torment she was now in for.
Her eyes saw nothing but a blanket of impenetrable blackness. She smelled no smells, heard no noise outside of her own…she was all alone. Danika could not visit her; her parents would never know what had happened to her.
This was solitary confinement. Kingdom style.
She couldn’t move into a more comfortable position. When she tried to whisper a command for her surroundings to shift, to become the Chicago skyline again, she had no vocal chords to work. All she had was her mind, and it screamed with its new reality.
And when she knew there was nothing more she could do, Nixie did the only thing left to her.
She cried.
Chapter 3
Eighty years later
“And you expect me to believe this twaddle?” Robin snorted derisively, staring at the withered gypsy woman.
They sat inside a tent perched on a wagon. The tent was lined with Turkish rugs and golden wares of all sorts.
The gypsy woman’s gnarled arthritic fingers bore rings of gold and silver, attesting to her great wealth, even if the garb of her clothing looked moth-riddled and threadbare.
“It is”—her voice sounded like dry bones rubbing against one another—“as I say it is, young Robin Hood. There is a dark genie.”
He chuckled, yanking his hand out of hers. He wasn’t sure how he’d been dragged into this ridiculous tent. His men had heard the gypsies traipsing through the woods, and on a lark John had dared him to go and seek his fortune. Fortunetellers had great and dark magic, oftentimes what they spoke, was truth. But they were also a greedy, selfish lot, and so it was difficult to suss out the fact from the fiction.
“Some doomed, cursed genie hidden in the wilds of Kingdom. That is a great story, ancient one, but it is a legend and not true. For I would know.”
“You’ve never known the truth of it because those who told her story didn’t know of its veracity, but I do.” She tapped the table between them. “For I’ve seen where she lies. Use your powers, search my heart.” Her rheumatic eyes thinned.
Shifting in his chair, Robin stared at the woman for a long, full minute before speaking. “How do you know about that…talent?”
Robin was born with the gift of truth. But it wasn’t something automatic to him—only if he concentrated and focused his thoughts could he see beyond the façade. But it was rare for him to use his talents around outsiders.
When his eyes glowed, they were a dead giveaway to his true identity.
Her wizened laugh was almost painful to hear, making him cringe in response.
The red lights flickering inside the tent painted dark shadows upon her face, making the browns of her eyes seem suddenly malevolent. His hand slowly crept toward the dagger hidden in his boot.
Had Crispin sent a spy into their midst?
“I know things, young man. Such as the fact that you are even now reaching for a knife.” She held up a gnarled finger, when he wrapped his fingers fully around it, intending to shove it through the base of her neck. “But I do not work for the king.”
“Then whom do you work for?” he growled. “And tell truth, for I will know.”
Robin opened the floodgates of his power, allowing them to pulse electric through his eyes.
Her eyes widened at his display. “Impressive indeed. So now you can hear my words and know I speak truth. I do not work for the king. I work for myself. And there is a dark genie hidden in the wilds of Kingdom
these past eighty years.”
His fingers relaxed just slightly at the ringing clarity of her words. When he heard truth it pierced through his heart like a sword. “Aye then.”
“I also know,” she continued, “that you’ve a wish to bring down said king.”
Jerking forward, he bunched her worn cloak in his fist and brought her face to within inches of his own. “And you know this how, witch?”
Brushing his hand off with a mere flick of her wrist, Robin frowned down at his fingers. She was powerful. Not so much in strength, but in will. “Who are you?” He snapped. “You’re no mere fortuneteller.”
She patted his cheek gently. “You’re a smart one. Good to see that my judgment is still sound even after all these years.”
He cocked his head. Who the devil was this woman?
“As to who the devil I am—” She smirked.
His nostrils flared. The witch had read his mind. Robin’s skin prickled with fury and apprehension.
“That is my concern and none of yours. But if you wish to bring down your king—”
“He is not my king.” His voice was curt and full of dripping disdain for the man known as Crispin the Lionhearted. “And I will kill him.”
She shrugged. “You may. You may not. But if you’ve a wish to succeed, ye’ll need the dark one.”
“And if I don’t believe you?”
Her wide grin exposed rotted teeth. “Och, well then, I canna help you there, can I? Believe. Don’t believe. It’s up to you, really. I’m only here to pass this information along.” Her hand slipped into the lining of her cloak.
Robin withdrew his knife, pointing it directly at her heart. “Slowly, witch.”
“Not to worry, young man. I’ve not come to kill tonight.” Then she set a glass vial before him. “Drink that—it’s laced with a finder spell. Focus your thoughts on the dark genie, and ye shall see that I speak nothing but truth tonight.”
