Bikini: Genie In A String

“I’m making it how it works.”

“I wish,” Zara said slowly, “that you get to be the one to choose your next master.” Genie in a String Bikini

Zara was knotting cherries by their stems when she found the bottle—a dusty, salt-crusted thing wedged between two jetty rocks. She tugged the cork loose with her teeth, expecting a pop and a puff of ancient sailor’s luck. “I’m making it how it works

Shalimar went very still. The orange slices hovered in midair. For the first time, she looked genuinely startled. The orange slices hovered in midair

Zara didn’t ask any questions. She just went back to knotting cherries, listening to the seagulls tell lies about the tide.

“Finally,” the genie said, stretching her arms overhead with a crackle of minor lightning. “Ninety years in a Château Margaux bottle. You have no idea how bored I get.”

“Define interesting,” Zara said warily.