He doesn’t seem assuaged by her attempt at friendliness, but his smile makes her stay. She can’t very well walk away without saying anything; what if he still thought she was there and continued speaking to her? She might be ill at ease, but she can’t quite bring herself to be rude.
Brynmor, however, seems to have forgotten her entirely. He reacts to – as far as she can tell – nothing at all, but the emotions that flash across his face cause Djinni to take a few steps back and reconsider leaving. She is frightened, a perfectly normal reaction, and she is uncomfortable. When the grey stallion begins to speak to someone that she cannot see, Djinni does begin to move away, taking one small step backwards at a time.
Best to keep her distance, she decides, best to stay out of harm’s way.
But then he says the word, the one word that she’s never been able to ignore. It’s her mother’s fault, her mother’s and the Djinn’s. She’s never minded before; every time before it has been a pleasant thing, a happy wish.
With the same quick ease as all her chicanery, she restores Brynmor’s sight. It will be no better or worse than it was before he lost it – she only gives back exactly what he had asked for “his sight again”. She pauses for a moment in her movement, unsure if perhaps this newly granted wish might change the stallion’s odd behavior.