“Butshe—”
“Leila.” The djinn’s voice was firm, and her gaze grew fierce as she pressed the bottle and its stopper into Annelise’s hands. “Her name is Leila.” The djinn looked a great deal older than she had atfirst.
“Azima,” Anneliseguessed.
The djinn did not reply but turned away, then reached to caress thebook.
Annelise dared to guess again. “Surely it is only a volume of children’s tales?” she said, suspecting that it was farmore.
The djinn looked back at her, and Annelise saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I suppose we are all destined to become tales forchildren.”
Her sadness was clear, but before Annelise could respond, she walked right through the stable wall anddisappeared.
There was only a rosy glow left behind and by the time Annelise blinked, it had vanished aswell.
She looked down at the bottle in her hands, knowing that she had not imagined theencounter.
Even better, Azima, despite her insistence that she could not help, had given Annelise anidea.
