She waved him up, but kept her distance. Their whole relationship was based on a lie, but she felt no guilt about that. After all, Aladdin had murdered a great magician to get the lamp in the first place, and then he’d murdered his own father when he’d tried to sell the lamp. Greed could be a terrible thing, but greed combined with the wickedness of this small boy’s heart was a terrible combination.

The boy, however, had never learned the secret of the lamp. The curse of it. How could he have? The genie hadn’t been about to tell him and Aladdin was too arrogant to realise that with magic there was always a catch. Ten wishes. That was all you got. Although technically it was nine, because once you breathed your tenth wish the genie was free – and you took their place. You became the slave to the next owner of the lamp. The genie Aladdin had freed had been wise to sell it to her – he’d had enough of magic, and he was perceptive enough to know the boy was a psychopath. When he eventually regained his freedom he would hunt the old genie down. He did not want that sword hanging over his head. Lilith had promised him that while she would make the boy hers to command, she would never make a single wish. It suited her anyway. Her grandmother had taught her early on that a wish was just a curse disguised.

Lilith had used the powers of the lamp more wisely than for wishes and whims. She would let the boy out for two weeks at a time to go and search for magical items for her. He was a slave of the lamp and had to do her bidding. If he returned empty-handed then she made the delay before his next release much longer. She had quickly learned that Aladdin did not like being caged. But then, who did? She’d promised him that one day she’d give the lamp to an enemy to make his ten wishes and then the boy would be free. That would never happen. She’d heard the reports of unsettling, sadistic murders that always occurred when he was abroad from the lamp, and she was sure that not even a queen would be safe from him.

The room was as ever lit by flickering candles and as he handed over the small silver comb, it glittered in the glow. Two unicorns were carved into it, their heads bowed at each other. It was a pretty trinket, that was for sure, but in itself it held no interest for her.

‘It brings the wearer happiness. Great happiness,’ Aladdin said. He smiled, his small teeth white and sharp. He had blood under his fingernails. She didn’t want to ask about that.

‘Happiness?’ she said, sharply. Too sharply. The word had stung her – could he sense her unhappiness? Was that it?