Sir Guy could do little more than blink at Jeannie’s reaction to his accusation. He was prepared for her to deny any use of any magic, but she wasn’t doing that at all. She was angry with him for calling her a witch. Not because of the death sentence that goes along with being a witch, but because she seemed to have no use for them. She really didn’t like witches it appeared.
He felt like a wayward child when she came closer to him shaking her finger. He hadn’t been scolded this thoroughly since he had been a small boy. He kept opening his mouth to try to apologize, but Jeannie was not done with him yet. When she started crying, he finally thought to lower his weapon. He felt like heel for making her cry.
“I’m sorry,” Guy muttered, not completely certain what he had done to deserve such a tongue-lashing. But Jeannie was right about one thing. She had been nothing but kind and helpful to him.
“I remember a Saracen talking about genies,” he said, grateful that he found that memory. “Djinns, I think he called them. I think he said they could be creatures of good luck and fortune.”
Guy wasn’t sure he could really trust anyone that did magic, but he also wasn’t sure he wanted to lose his only friend in this City. “We don’t have genies in England. Only witches and they are evil. I am truly sorry if I insulted you.”