‘Clan MacQuarrie.’
I took a half-step backwards. The MacQuarrie Chieftain twinkled down at me. ‘For Lily,’ he mouthed.
I was taken aback; I thought they’d blamed me for Lily’s death. After all, I did show up at their gates with her corpse in my arms. I was going to gain admission to the Games after all. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. No. Way.
Aifric looked at me. He remained sitting, but there was no mistaking the overdone sorrow in his expression. My eyes narrowed. I knew he was a murdering bastard but he’d promised publicly to support me. It appeared, however, that I couldn’t count on honour from him. I drew in a shaky breath. To have come this close and have the opportunity snatched away at the last moment … talk about a rollercoaster.
‘Clan Polwarth.’
There was a flash of darkness from Aifric. I was dumbfounded – I wasn’t even sure who the Polwarth Chieftain was. I searched the stand, finally alighting on the rake-thin figure of the Sidhe who was standing up. Of everyone, he was dressed appropriately for the weather with an animal skin draped round his shoulders. I spotted the glint of an old carabineer at his belt and understood. Isla, my mate from mountain rescue: she wasn’t a Sidhe, but clearly her role in mountain rescue meant something. The man who’d given his support flashed me a smile and sat down again.
‘Clan Adair has the requisite three votes and is permitted to compete.’
I lifted my eyes and looked at Aifric. He was probably as surprised as I was. The sorrow on his face had been replaced by a beaming grin and he clapped loudly. I curtsied and wished him dead, before remembering that I was a pacifist and I shouldn’t ever wish for someone to die. Not with Bob clinging to my neck or this weird Gift knocking around in my blood.
The Carnegie lordling moved towards me and gestured irritably. I ignored him, scanned the crowd and looked for my friends. When I finally caught sight of them at the back, jumping up and down, I relaxed. I waved at them and received a ragged cheer from several others in return.
‘Hurry up!’ the lordling hissed.
Of course, I didn’t do that at all. I took my time, treating the audience as if they were my biggest fans. Fake it till you make it. The many blank faces only made my curtseys, waves and bows more energetic. I was tempted to make good on my threat of telekinesis but I thought better of it and moved across to the other competitors with a buoyant hop, skip and jump. Byron raised his eyebrows. I grinned at him, wondering if he was as good an actor as his father. Then I turned and took my seat.
Tipsania, positioned in the back row which was reserved for the top seeds, leaned forward. ‘Anyone would think you’d already won with the way you’re carrying on. You poor child.’
Considering she was about five months older than me, that was some endearment. I smirked at her. ‘You don’t understand, do you? For me, that was the hardest part. From here on in, you won’t even see my dust.’
She let out a tinkling, derisive laugh. ‘Oh my dear, you’re so entertaining sometimes.’
My eyes gleamed. ‘I suppose I am somewhat on the…’ I paused, ‘wild side.’
Her jaw tightened a fraction. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I wouldn’t have spotted it. Buggering hell. Did all these Sidhe spend years learning how to act? I thought I was pretty skilled, and manipulation and con artistry were tools for my trade, but I was starting to think I had nothing on this lot.
Chapter Ten
As organisers of the Games, the Carnegies put on quite a show. Once the formalities were over, the field exploded into a riot of colour. Young women danced on with streaming ribbons billowing out behind them. In perfect formation, they arranged themselves into different shapes, ranging from a bank of thistles to two battling figures. The lone piper, who’d been responsible for the ear-bleeding Clan anthems, was joined by a large band. I was amused to see that the bass drummer was a tiny Seonaidh, a water sprite who was dwarfed by the gigantic drum he held in front of his belly. He was out of his depth in more ways than one.
As the dancers and pipers marched off, a tall Carnegie Sidhe woman strode out. The competitors around me, most of whom had pasted on expressions of utter boredom, leaned forward and there was a buzz in the audience. I had no idea who she was or what she was about to do, but I bet it would be impressive.
‘Morna Carnegie. She calls nature,’ the MacQuarrie competitor next to me said, registering my curiosity. He stuck out his hand and grinned. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Angus.’
I smiled back and shook his hand. ‘Integrity,’ I murmured.
‘I know. I don’t think there’s anyone here who isn’t aware of who you are.’
‘I’m not convinced that’s a good thing.’
‘Are you kidding? The other Clans have been at the top for so long, they’ve forgotten what it’s like to have some real competition on their hands. I’m expecting good things from you, Integrity Adair.’ My unspoken question must have been reflected in my face. ‘Lily was my cousin,’ Angus MacQuarrie told me. ‘She was a good person.’
A wash of sadness overtook me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, inadequately. ‘She helped me a lot.’ I sucked in a breath. ‘She deserved a better end.’
He touched my arm. ‘You brought her to us so we could lay her to rest in the MacQuarrie grove. A lot of others wouldn’t have bothered, not least because we’re considered the weakest and most unimportant of all the Clans.’ He grimaced. ‘The madness we experience has a lot to do with that.’
I felt a prickle along the back of my neck and turned to see Byron glaring at me. What was his problem? I looked back at Angus, wanting to ask him more about the infamous MacQuarrie insanity, but the boom of a cannon drew my attention.
‘Watch this,’ Angus whispered. ‘Morna’s amazing.’
The Carnegie woman reached the centre of field and raised her arms to the heavens, her head tilted back as if she were talking to the clouds. A heartbeat later, the ground beneath my feet began to vibrate. I jerked up my feet, alarmed. Angus laughed although I noticed that a few others had reacted the same way as me.
The air crackled as if coalescing into something heavier and more oppressive. I didn’t like this at all and I sat up straight, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. There was no need, though – it was all part of the show. As I watched, gobsmacked, Morna Carnegie snapped her fingers and a row of purple heather sprang out from her left. I gaped. She clicked again and the same thing happened from her right hand. She spun, moving faster and faster. Now more and more lines of different coloured heather appeared in an intricate and predesigned pattern. I shook my head in amazement. ‘How…?’
‘Impressive, right? When it comes to flora, there’s very little that she can’t call up.’
This was a Gift that I wanted. I sat on my hands, willing myself not to unconsciously steal it. I couldn’t just go around ripping magic from everyone I met. It was too late, though: whatever made my blood sing when I saw Morna Carnegie’s Gift was already working. My senses swam with the now-familiar head rush and stomach-churning nausea. I closed my eyes to steady myself while next to me Angus stiffened.
‘I’ve never seen her falter before.’
Shite. I opened one eye, worried about what I’d see. This was an elderly woman; who knew what would happen if I stole part of her Sidhe nature? I bit my lip while Morna Carnegie paused, confusion clouding her face. All around her the banks of multi-coloured heather swayed, their tips leaning towards her as if they were concerned about her. She blinked once, twice, shook herself and continued. I breathed out. She’d obviously felt something happen but she still had some of her Gift left.
I had to find a way to control my new power. I couldn’t be responsible for sending Sidhe, who were no more of a danger than professional flower arrangers, into an early grave.
‘What happened there?’ I asked, wishing my heart would stop racing.
Angus looked puzzled. ‘I don’t know. Maybe she skipped breakfast or something.’
I leaned back, s
itting on my hands to stop them trembling, and watched her finish. She certainly had amazing control. As her arms continued to flick out around her and her fingers snapped with increasing speed, the design of the flowers around her started to take shape. A Celtic knot entirely made out of heather ‒ damn, that was clever. Everyone else obviously agreed with me, leaping to their feet with thunderous applause.
Morna curtsied, although there was no denying she still looked shaken. She walked off, the flowers parting to allow her to leave without trampling on a single bloom. Then a man of similar age strode out to take her place.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked.
Angus scowled. ‘Morna’s opposite.’
His actions were similar to hers: he raised his arms, swung them out with a flourish and clicked his fingers. The first row of blooming heather withered and died. An involuntary cry escaped me, followed by a snicker from several of the other competitors. At least Angus didn’t laugh this time and he squeezed my hand reassuringly.
The man spun round, snapping away. One by one, each row of flowers died. What a shitty Gift. Where Morna had provided life – natural life filled with beauty and optimism – this Sidhe was completely different. I glared at him as he killed off the intricate design, leaving behind little more than blackened roots. Needless to say, I felt no dizziness; I wanted no part of this Gift, subconsciously or otherwise.
He bowed. The response from the crowd this time was less enthusiastic. As he strode off arrogantly, there was a whine from the microphone and the Carnegie lordling spoke up once more.
‘I am sure the symbolism is not lost on this esteemed crowd,’ he intoned. ‘With one breath, you can be riding high and winning. But these are the Games; one false step and your success will wither and die before your very eyes. As might you. We have done what we can to assure competitors that their safety is uppermost in our minds, but accidents do happen. There may be severe consequences for those who fail in the two more risky challenges.’
I didn’t think I was imagining the bloodthirsty glint in his eyes, or that he flicked a look at me. I straightened my shoulders. They could underestimate me all they wished; it would only serve to make my win sweeter.
‘The Artistry challenge will begin at dawn tomorrow. We don’t expect any life-threatening wounds in that one.’ He paused while the crowd dutifully chuckled. ‘Until then, we beg you to enjoy the refreshments we have arranged. These Games will go down in history as the best ever. The Carnegie Clan will see to that.’ He stepped down from the dais.
‘Yeah, right,’ Angus whispered in my ear. ‘Last time around, when Gale Adair ‒ your father ‒ won, the Jardine Clan were the organisers. They had twelve Gifted illusionists. Apparently the show they put on was so spectacular it will never be beaten. The Carnegies hate the Jardines but it doesn’t matter what they do, they can’t surpass that kind of spectacle.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Were you even born when the last Games took place?’
‘No, but I’ve heard a lot about them.’
I ignored the Sidhe around me who were getting up and preparing to leave the field. ‘My father?’ I asked. ‘What did you hear about him?’
Angus smiled. ‘He was a hero. According to Lily, anyway. He could have asked for anything but all he wanted was a black rose.’
I was fascinated – and very, very eager to know more. ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Why a black rose?’
‘Lily told me that it was because he wanted to prove that it wasn’t about the prize. And the prophecy might have had something to do with it because…’
‘It’s time to go.’ Byron was standing in front of us. I thought he’d been glaring before; now he looked about ready to wring my neck.
‘In a minute.’
‘The MacQuarrie Chieftain wants to speak to his son.’
I was surprised, I hadn’t realised Angus was so high up the food chain. I was also very irritated at the interruption. What prophecy?
‘I’d better go.’ Angus stood up, his eyes crinkling with bonhomie. He took my hand and pressed it against his lips. ‘Until next time, Chieftain Adair.’
A thrill ran through me at his words. Only Lily had ever called me that before; there was something gratifying about hearing someone else repeat the title, especially with Aifric Moncrieffe’s son and heir standing beside me.
‘Call me Integrity,’ I told Angus.
He bowed and I watched him go, enjoying the warmth I felt at knowing that not every Sidhe was against me. I was sure that there had been no guile in Angus’s words or expression.
Byron, apparently, had a different opinion. ‘You should be careful who you make friends with.’
‘Why’s that?’ I inquired, turning my attention back to him.
‘You know most nobles here would be happy to see you gone.’
‘Really? Even after I saved all your sorry arses by helping you with the Foinse?’
‘Don’t be so naïve, Integrity,’ he snapped.
‘Well, don’t you be so antagonistic,’ I bit back.
He came closer. ‘Me antagonistic? You should take a look in the mirror.’ His voice was low. He reached out and took a strand of my hair in his fingers. ‘How can you show up, looking like that with your Adair hair, and expect me to believe that you’re not deliberately trying to annoy every damn person here? We know what you are, Integrity. There’s no need to flaunt it.’
I was taken aback. Someone had clearly got out of the wrong side of bed this morning. It was only hair. Considering the dramatic clothes that everyone else was wearing, I could hardly be accused of being showy.
‘My appearance is annoying you? Really? Maybe if I wore a nun’s habit, you’d think it was more appropriate.’ I pointed at his muscular legs, visible beneath his kilt. ‘Although you’re displaying a lot more skin than I am. Are your balls as blue as you thought they’d be?’
‘Would you like to check and see?’
I felt Bob stir from the folds of my Adair tartan scarf. He was virtually quivering with excitement. Bugger it. Worry surged through me at the prospect of the genie doing something stupid and it was like a bucket of ice water. It didn’t just dampen my irritation; it also provided sudden brisk clarity.
‘You’re jealous,’ I breathed. ‘That’s why you’re so annoyed. You don’t want me making ‘friends ‘ with anyone apart from you.’ I glanced at Tipsania’s retreating back. ‘What would your fiancée make of that?’
Turmoil flickered across his face. ‘It doesn’t sound like I’m the only jealous one around here,’ he pointed out. ‘And she’s not my fiancée.’
‘Not yet. The only way you’ll escape that particular noose is if you win these Games.’ The corner of my mouth tugged up in a smile. ‘Right?’
He folded his arms. ‘I have responsibilities, something you don’t seem to understand.’ He shrugged. ‘And maybe I am jealous. We left a lot of business unfinished when we first met. I seem to recall you were particularly keen to be on top.’
Memories of our assignation in his hotel room in Aberdeen assailed me. ‘What can I say? You’re not unpleasant on the eye and I’ve always had a soft spot for blonds.’
‘That’s it?’ he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. ‘That’s what you like about me?’
‘That and your sexy legs.’
Something flared in his eyes. He cursed to himself. ‘This is ridiculous.’
‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘I don’t even really like you that much.’
Byron grinned suddenly, his expression lightening. ‘Ditto. You’re far too much like hard work.’
‘Yeah, I’m worth it though.’
‘I’m starting to think that maybe you are.’
I licked my lips. ‘We should probably just have sex and be done with it. Get all this,’ I waved a hand in the air, ‘tension out of our systems.’
He took a step closer. ‘What colour would your eyes turn, I wonder, when I made you scream in ecstasy?’
‘You’re very sure of yourself.’
His grin widened. ‘I have good reason to be.’
‘Jerk.’
‘Witch.’
We stood there, smiling at each other like idiots. ‘It’s probably easier if we just stay away from each other.’
‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘Probably.’
My body relaxed. ‘In another life perhaps, Byron.’
He turned away, his kilt swinging sexily as he walked off.
‘Uh Integrity!’ Bob screeched in my ear. ‘What is wrong with you? That man is sex on legs and he’s panting after you like you’re on heat!’
‘His father tried to kill me.’
‘I thought you’d be the last person to apportion blame to children for what their parents have done.’
Bob was making good sense. ‘True,’ I replied. ‘But he’s got Tipsania.’
‘Isn’t she shagging a sweet Wild Man?’
‘I can’t tell Byron that. And I’m starting to think that the pair of them are being forced into a relationship, whether they like it or not.’
‘All the more reason to encourage him to break it off.’
Byron’s figure was being swallowed up in the crowds leaving the grandstand. I gazed after him, my eyes savouring every last moment. Just before he disappeared, his head turned and he sought me out. I lifted my hand to wave. Then he was gone.
‘I can’t,’ I said to Bob, ignoring the remaining competitors who were nearby. By their expressions, they seemed to think that I was holding an in-depth conversation with myself. ‘He’s the one in a relationship. He’s the one who needs to make a move.’
I thought of Aifric. Even if Byron were completely innocent of his father’s actions, I couldn’t imagine him being pleased if I told him the truth, no matter how good the sex was. Thanks, Byron, I did indeed scream in ecstasy – oh and by the way, your father is trying to kill me. Nope. Not gonna work. And at some point he’d work out I’d stolen part of his Gift.
‘Pff! You Sidhe are ridiculous,’ Bob muttered.
‘Yeah.’ I couldn’t disagree.
I walked off, choosing not to follow everyone else but to look at the field. The dead, blackened heather crunched beneath my feet. No matter what Angus had said, it was still an awesome display of power, suggesting that the Carnegies had absolute control over both life and death. And that life was a fleeting thing, not to be cherished too dearly or it would be snatched away.