The genie hasn’t moved from his position over the lake, his lower half skimming the surface like he’s waiting for the Idols to rise and swallow us whole.
I stroll to the edge to be closer to him while the knights remain at my back. “You feel it,” I say.
“I feel everything. That is the curse of proximity.”
The water shifts inward, the ripples reversing course, but not through wind or wildlife. I’m not reaching. Not this time.
The surface tightens as though the lake inhales. Hart’s hand closes around mine, and Nash steps closer while Malachi wades into the water, Excalibur drawn and ready to defend.
But this isn’t a threat. I know it in my bones.
The lake turns silver, a smooth, mirrored sheet stretching across its basin. But the reflection is not ours. Eron rises from the water, creating his own mirror extending from the center. His gaze flicks over us, taking stock as Sir Sweeps-A-Lot dives in and out of his eye sockets in excitement.
“Stop that. I cannot bear witness to my maiden if you blind me.”
The broom deflates and floats around him in a circle like a puppy who has misbehaved.
My sidekicks are a bunch of temperamental beings, and they all seem to be synched up with their moods. I miss my capons; they were the least complicated creatures, although their friendship choices with Prince Poopfloof are questionable.
Eron lifts his chin, clearly trying to look majestic, but the lake chooses that moment to ripple, and his reflection wobbles like jelly on a cart.
He scowls at the water as if it’s being disrespectful on purpose. “Mirror etiquette,” he mutters, then clears his throat like a man about to deliver a prophecy. “Ahem. Fairest Diane.”
“Is it me, or are his compliments less complimentary?” I grumble, even though his assessment is correct.
“Definitely a slippery slope,” Nash agrees.
“I’m reading off the approved compliment list,” he says. “Do not interrupt the system.”
The genie’s brows rise. “He has an approved compliment list?”
“I’m now interacting with a customer service mirror,” I deadpan. “Not the original guy.” Did they clone him?
Eron’s mouth tightens. “The Hallows demanded we standardize. Compliments must be consistent, forgettable, and non-incendiary.”
“That sounds like Gwyneth,” I mutter.
Eron’s eyes flick away, as if he can hear her shouting through the glass. “It wasn’t her idea. It is… a compromise with the others. Please do not interrupt again.”
I wave my hand in acceptance.What others?“Please continue with your mediocre compliments.”
“You are still most fair,” Eron points out. “But I never saw you as a needy maiden. I shall restart.”
The water splashes back into the lake, and he disappears.
I blink. “Did he just hang up on us?”
“I believe so,” Hart answers with a chuckle. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot dives beneath the surface looking for his friend.
We wait a tempo, and I start to give up hope for his reappearance. I take a step back. We don’t have time to waste.
The genie holds up a finger. “Wait.”
The water ripples inward before it twists into the air, and Eron appears twice as big. “Sorry, I went to the wrong lake. Scared the living daylights out of a couple making out on a rowboat.”
Malachi snorts, and the genie shakes his head. “My friend, this was your do-over,” the genie points out.
My broom tickles Eron’s cheek, making his eye twitch. I open my mouth to stop him, but he vanishes. Again.
