Malachi chuckles. Nash’s head swings back around, drawn by something shuffling in the thick brush covering the forest floor. Probably a mouse. I’m good with rodents.
The genie poofs in front of us and does a quick spin, checking out our surroundings.
“You survived,” he points out.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am, but I’m also glad. New masters are tricky to get a handle on. Are they evil? Do they want realm domination or to alter the course of their destiny?”
I smile at him. “That sounds difficult.”
He nods as he looks around again and frowns. “Why are you in the Forbidden Forest?”
“Not by choice,” Malachi mutters.
“It’s a shortcut,” I tell the genie.
“To doom,” he replies with a mock shiver.
“Well, aren’t you a cheery being this diurnal,” I muse and then yelp as our horse jumps over a log.
The genie frowns. “Are you still injured? Did the knights not heal you?”
“Yeah, sexual healing,” Hart grumbles.
The genie blinks, lifts his finger, and snaps his mouth closed. “So, if you are healed, why are you in pain?”
“The sexual part caused a little unhealing,” Malachi says.
“It was to distract her from the pain of being in the healing pool,” Theo snaps. “Stop judging me. I didn’t take advantage.”
“Sure,” Malachi drawls. “A distraction.”
I elbow him in the ribs. “Less judgy, please.”
He grins down at me before bopping my nose. “You’re cute when you are mad.”
“I think we need to break,” Nash declares. “There’s a stream up ahead. The horses can rest for a turn and get a drink.”
“Daphne’s floof will also appreciate that,” Hart adds.
A laugh escapes me. Hart saying floof is my new favorite thing in the world. “The rest, yes, but I don’t believe my floof needs hydration.”
There’s a current of amusement around me, and I feel more settled knowing my knights aren’t about to fight over things like me and Theo getting dirty in the healing pools.
Six tempos later, I tumble off the horse and settle under a tree, resting my back against it. Malachi shares his packaged dried meats and cheese with me before suggesting I wash it down with a good amount of berry wine.
“It will help with the pain,” he coaxes.
I narrow my gaze on him and snatch the flask, giving it a sniff. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Malachi?”
He shakes his head. “No, never, but I hate seeing you in pain.”
“I could help with that,” the genie says. “You could wish it away.”
The pain is oddly nice when I’m not being jostled on the back of a horse. “Not worth it,” I grumble as I take four generous swallows of the sweet fruity wine.
“You know you have to use me or lose me,” the genie declares.
