by Helen Harper
A teddy bear waved at us. Byron crooked an eyebrow towards me but Speck raised his hand. ‘Into the backpack, please.’
The sleeping bags – which were unused, of course – rolled themselves up. The cartons of juice, bottles of water and pot noodles stacked themselves on the counter. A hot pink bra edged with lace dangled in the air.
‘I know who this belongs to,’ Byron murmured. I swallowed.
‘Neat trick,’ Speck whispered as everything slotted back into place.
‘You’re right,’ I agreed. ‘I wish I…’
Oh shite. I swayed slightly, feeling both dizzy and sick. ‘Byron, I didn’t mean it.’
He looked at me confused. Brochan got to his feet, albeit rather slowly, and threw me a warning glare. I grimaced and fell quiet, passing my hand across my forehead.
‘Lord Byron,’ Taylor asked, ‘do you feel okay?’
‘It’s just Byron. And yes, I’m fine.’ He was still puzzled but at least his attention was elsewhere. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Er … I just wondered if using your Gift took much energy,’ Taylor replied hastily. ‘That’s all.’
Byron smiled. ‘Not unless it’s for protracted periods of time. And that rarely happens with telekinesis.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘It was definitely handy when I was a teenager and had to tidy my room in a hurry though.’
We all laughed, although the sound was forced.
Byron checked his watch and swore. ‘I have to go. The opening ceremony is starting soon and I promised Tipsy I’d help her with her dress.’
‘Go,’ I urged, wincing inside with every word. ‘You don’t want to let her down.’
He leaned towards me again and for a second I thought he was going to kiss me on the cheek. His face hovered near mine and his musky, male scent tickled my nostrils. I stared into the depths of his emerald-green eyes and licked my lips. ‘I’m sorry about the false accusations,’ he said. ‘And the … sleeping bags.’
‘Like I said,’ I told him, ‘we’re fine.’
He grinned, his gold hair flopping over his forehead, then he pulled back leaving me ridiculously disappointed. As I watched, he turned and jogged away.
I covered my eyes with my hand. ‘Oh no,’ I moaned.
‘Did you do it?’ Lexie asked. ‘Did you steal his Gift?’
My shoulders slumped. ‘I’m afraid to check.’
Brochan walked over and held out a leaf. He let it go and it fluttered to the ground. ‘Try.’
‘How are you feeling, Brochan? That Sidhe hit you with a hell of a wallop…’
‘I’m fine. Try to lift the leaf, Tegs.’
I sighed, looked down and concentrated. It didn’t take long: three or four heartbeats of focus and the leaf moved upwards.
‘Can you levitate at the same time?’
I tried. Sweat popped out across my brow but it was no use. ‘I think the levitation has gone.’
‘We’ll have to experiment with multi-tasking next time,’ Taylor said.
I drew in a sharp breath. ‘Don’t you get it? I just stole from Byron! I told him I wasn’t a thief and I wasn’t going to steal from anyone and he believed me! And then I did just that! Not only that, but I took his buggering Gift. What if he needs it? What if he notices?’ My shoulders slumped. ‘This is shite.’
‘You didn’t mean to take it,’ Lexie pointed out.
‘And,’ Speck added, ‘it’s a pretty cool Gift.’
Lexie glared at him. ‘I’m still not done with you yet.’
He threw up his arms. ‘That’s not fair! I saved you from being zapped like Brochan.’
‘At least I was trying to help Brochan, you geeky warlock. What were you doing?’
The merman interrupted them both. ‘Stop it. Aren’t we forgetting something? If that necklace isn’t in here, where is it and who took it?’
There was a rustle of leaves from across the path and the Wild Man appeared. Seeing our shocked faces, he grinned. ‘Really? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you spying on me this morning?’
Uh oh. I tried to stay calm. ‘Why didn’t you say anything at the time?’
He gave an amiable shrug. ‘Tip would only get flustered. It’s easier this way.’ He reached into a pocket and pulled out Chieftain MacBain’s silver and pearl necklace.
‘Where did you get that from?’ I asked.
The Wild Man jerked his head towards the cabin. ‘In there. In a backpack’
‘I didn’t steal it!’ Speck babbled. ‘I promise! Sir…’
The Wild Man continued to smile. ‘Call me Candy.’ He nodded at me. ‘Nice to see you again.’
Speck drew back. ‘Tegs? You know this monster ‒ I mean, Wild Man?’ He dropped his chin. ‘Fuck. Sorry.’
Candy didn’t appear to have taken offence. Considering his size, that could only be a good thing. He raised the necklace a little higher. ‘One of the Moncrieffe servants dropped by earlier and left it for you as a little present.’
Taylor lunged for it but the Wild Man was too quick and held it out of reach. ‘I’ll hold it for safekeeping. I won’t tell anyone about it if you keep your mouths shut about me and Tip. Say anything, though, and it might end up back in one of your bags.’ His smile widened. ‘And we know what that will mean.’
I let out the breath I’d been holding. ‘We can do that. We can keep a secret.’
‘You can’t tell anyone,’ Candy warned. ‘Not even your own mothers.’
My mother was long gone. ‘No problem.’
‘Tegs, are you sure we can trust him?’ Lexie eyed him with an expression that suggested she’d have no qualms about hitting him over the head with her handbag and then chopping him up into tiny pieces to dispose of the evidence.
I looked at Candy. He’d certainly been gentlemanly towards me before and I reckoned he was alright. ‘Yes.’ Anyway, what choice did we have?
The Wild Man gave a happy nod. ‘Excellent.’ He turned and lumbered away.
‘Tegs,’ Taylor whispered, as the Candy vanished. ‘Do you think he heard us talking about you stealing Byron’s Gift?’
‘I have no idea.’ I shook my head. ‘What a freaking mess.’
‘If it was a Moncrieffe servant who planted the necklace, does that mean your Byron is a double agent?’
‘Fucked if I know,’ I muttered. ‘But it definitely makes me more shaken than stirred. Come on. We need to get to that ceremony.’
‘What about Chieftain MacBain?’
I sighed. ‘I think we might be too late. Let’s go and get ourselves thrown out of the Games. At least the masses will be entertained.’
Chapter Nine
The opening ceremony was taking place at an open field near the main tent where I’d found the Bull the previous day. The field was surrounded by a grandstand and the sounds of the thronging crowds proved what a big deal these Games were. Considering the prize, it wasn’t surprising they were held so infrequently but it was a shame this seemed to be the only time that Clan differences were set aside. Then I spotted a Fairlie Sidhe being deliberately jostled by a small group of Dundas Clanlings. Whatever camaraderie existed yesterday had already vanished; the serious business of winning was in the air.
The competitors were crowded into a small area, waiting for their grand entrance to the showground and making a great show of admiring each other’s costumes. As I walked up with my team behind me, there were nudges and hushed whispers. Obviously the news about my ‘crime’ had spread quickly and I wondered if news of my exoneration had been transmitted with the same speed. Judging by the dirty looks, it didn’t appear so.
I glanced down at my jeans and warm jumper, wishing I’d had time to change into something more appropriate. I might not have a gown to match Tipsania’s but I looked like I’d not made any effort at all. Not everyone was wearing evening wear, of course; I spotted all-in-one jumpsuits made of Clan tartans, traditional kilts and even a top hat and tails.
I couldn’t stop my eyes drifting towards Byron, who was lingerin
g at the front of the crowd with Tipsania. Thanks to her massive skirts, there was quite a gap around them. He looked damn good in his kilt.
He didn’t even glance in my direction. I wondered whether he was too embarrassed to claim a friendship – of sorts – with a dirty rotten thief like me. The thought stung more than I would have liked.
Fortunately, Lexie had a scarf in the new Adair tartan which she pulled off her shoulders and looped round my neck. It was better than nothing. I untied my hair, shaking it out and letting it fall down my back. Yes, it was white, just like my father’s had been; I wasn’t going to hide my heritage.
‘That’s it,’ Taylor nodded. ‘Don’t let these bastards make you feel anything less than you are.’
‘Was I being that obvious?’
He squeezed my arm. ‘I know you pretty well.’
I tried to smile as an elderly Sidhe official in Carnegie colours cleared his throat and began to speak. ‘Competitors will enter with their individual Clans, parade past the grandstand and halt in front of the royal box where their participation will be verified. Remember, it takes three Clans to validate entry.’
I felt sure he was saying that for my benefit. It didn’t help that several of the other competitors turned in my direction, mocking amusement glinting in their eyes.
‘Clans will enter not in alphabetical order, as was previously stated, but in order of importance.’
I shared a look of disgust with Taylor. Since I’d taken on the Adair name, I’d moved to the top of the pack as far as ABC was concerned but this wasn’t Sesame Street. I had no doubt that despite the tradition attached to the Adairs, and the fact that my blood had been keyed into the Foinse as the sole member of one of the older, supposedly important Clans, I’d be in last place. I shrugged. If nothing else, I’d give this lot something to remember.
Brochan eyed me. ‘You’re planning something,’ he accused.
My mouth twitched. ‘When they throw me out for not being good enough or strong enough or whatever enough, I want to make sure they all realise what a mistake they’re making.’
‘Tegs…’
I grinned, although there wasn’t much humour in it. ‘My new trick is telekinesis. Let them see what I can do when I choose to use it.’
‘Is that a good idea?’
‘The witch in Sleeping Beauty is always painted as the villain,’ I murmured. ‘But she was left out in the cold. Depending on which version you read, her invitation was either forgotten or she was deliberately left off the list. She took her revenge ‒ and then some. I’m not going to curse any Sidhe damsels but I’m not going to let them humiliate me without saying something about it.’
‘Tegs,’ Speck said, looking troubled, ‘the witch in Sleeping Beauty was vanquished.’
‘Well,’ I growled, ‘it’s good that we’re not living in a fairy tale.’
Unsurprisingly, the Moncrieffes were called first. There were five of them in total: Byron, Jamie and three others whom I vaguely recognised. Unsurprisingly, neither Maggie nor Roy made an appearance; their attempt to practise in the mountains, which Byron had so admired, had put paid to that. The crowd of competitors fell silent as music sounded.
‘It’s the Moncrieffe anthem,’ Taylor murmured.
‘It’s bloody awful is what it is,’ I replied. I was having a hard time discerning a tune. It was a screeching wail, played on bagpipes to make it sound even worse. ‘I don’t suppose they’ll have the Adair anthem to hand.’
‘It’s disallowed.’
I grunted. Big surprise.
Speck smirked. ‘Don’t worry, Tegs. I’ve got it covered.’
I shot him a grateful look. Screw the Sidhe. I didn’t need them when I had this lot by my side.
The last notes faded away and an imperious voice sounded over a microphone. I recognised it immediately; it belonged to the Carnegie lordling whom I’d seen on the ship where Debbie the Spider was being held. Knowing who he was ‒ and what a prick he was ‒ would it make it easier to sneer in his face when he ejected me.
‘Clan Moncrieffe. Who will stand for you?’
‘Clan Scrymgeour,’ boomed the Bull.
‘Clan Calder,’ added another voice.
‘Clan Orrock.’
‘Clan Moncrieffe has the requisite three votes and is permitted to compete.’
My fingers jerked and I bunched my hands into fists to avoid giving a slow, sarcastic round of applause.
‘Scrymgeour,’ the official grunted. ‘You’re next.’
I folded my arms. No doubt that was because of Tipsania’s relationship with Byron. I tried to keep the sour grimace off my face as she trooped out with four others from her Clan. The same pattern was followed: loud, tuneless music, the voices of three other Clans stating their support, and then acceptance into the Games. I plonked myself down, sitting cross-legged on the ground. If this was going to take a while then I was going to conserve my energy.
The others joined me as the Kincaids were called. ‘Tell us a joke, Tegs,’ Speck urged.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘I thought you all hated my jokes.’
‘We do,’ he responded cheerfully.
I smiled. ‘What do you call a faerie who hasn’t taken a bath?’
‘I don’t know, Tegs,’ Lexie said in a loud voice, ensuring that as many of the other competitors as possible heard her. ‘What do you call a faerie that hasn’t taken a bath?’
‘Stinkerbell.’
She collapsed in laughter and Speck and Taylor followed her lead. Even Brochan managed a guffaw. They might be faking their amusement but the irritated glances we received from those around us were well worth it.
One by one the Clans were called and each was quickly granted entrance to the Games. It seemed like a long wait but suddenly we were the only people remaining and I had to stride out there alone because my friends weren’t Sidhe and couldn’t participate. It suddenly felt like the last hour had flown by.
There was a final bellowing roar from the crowd as the MacQuarries passed muster. Taylor straightened. ‘You’d better go.’ He threw me a look. ‘We’ll be watching, Tegs. You’re not on your own in this.’
I smiled at him but we all knew that when it came to rejection – especially rejection on such a wholescale level – you were always on your own. It was always personal. I stood up and dusted myself off.
‘How do I look?’ I asked.
‘Gorgeous.’ Lexie paused. ‘Apart from that big smudge of dirt on your cheek.’
I lifted my hand to my face and started rubbing. ‘What smudge?’ Lexie had already turned her back. ‘Wait!’ I yelled. ‘Is it still there?’
She didn’t answer. I wetted the edge of my cuff with saliva and rubbed some more. It was one thing to be a genuine orphan returning to the Sidhe fold, but the last thing I wanted to look like was a grubby urchin. Bugger it.
The Carnegie official peered at me. ‘It is time,’ he said with a sniff.
‘Do I have mud on my face?’ I asked.
He looked away just as the opening to ‘We Are the Champions’ started up. I closed my eyes. Speck. Of all the bloody songs to choose…
The official appeared even more unimpressed. I wasn’t surprised. While the Sidhe tended towards obvious and unpleasant side of arrogance, that wasn’t what I’d been aiming for. Then again, I supposed it didn’t really matter.
I walked past him and into the tunnel that led out to the grounds. Was it my imagination or was the crowd considerably more subdued now?
Light flashed, making me falter. ‘Bob!’ I complained. ‘This really isn’t the time.’
‘It’s the perfect time,’ he purred. ‘If they’re not going to let you compete, this is exactly when you should make that wish. You could wish for every Sidhe to have their head on backwards. I had a client once who did that at a concert. It went down a treat.’
‘Would you piss off?’
‘Of course,’ he continued blithely as I continued towards the light at the end of the tunnel �
� and the metaphorical darkness of pariah land, ‘if that doesn’t take your fancy, you could wish for their children to be struck down by madness. Or give them bubonic plague.’
‘Jeez, Bob. I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty.’
‘Come on, Uh Integrity. Wishes were made for revenge.’
‘I’m not here for revenge,’ I said. As soon as I said it, I realised it was true. I’d toyed with the idea of it before but really I just wanted answers – and I didn’t need to compete in the Games for those. I could find another way. ‘Thanks,’ I grinned as the tunnel gave way to the field. ‘I needed that.’
‘What did I do?’ Bob asked, his voice growing muffled as he wriggled into the folds of my scarf to hide.
I didn’t answer. Instead I held up my hand and waved enthusiastically as the grandstand blurred into a mass of colours and shapes. At least a few people cheered and some more clapped; thank goodness non-Sidhe were permitted in the audience.
I flipped my hair and tilted up my chin. As long as I didn’t trip, I could do this. I could do anything. Growth mind-set. Easy-peasy.
An official beckoned me towards the royal box. I stopped, eyeing Aifric and the twenty-three other Chieftains who were sitting there. Come on, I thought, do your worst.
‘Clan…’ There was a pause. It seemed like the twenty-thousand-strong crowd were holding their breath. ‘… Adair,’ the Carnegie lordling finished.
I smiled broadly. ‘See?’ I said to him. ‘You said the word aloud and you didn’t spontaneously combust!’
He ignored me. ‘Who will stand for you?’
Silence rippled across the crowd like a Mexican wave.
The Bull reluctantly got to his feet. ‘Clan Scrymgeour.’
Several of the other Chieftains did double takes and there were a few nudges. The Bull shrugged. From where I was standing I heard him mutter a vague explanation: ‘She was my ward. What else am I supposed to do?’
I almost snorted. If I didn’t have his true name and hadn’t forced him to speak up, he’d have spat on me before supporting me. And his support didn’t even matter.
I turned to Aifric, waiting for him to throw in his hat. The voice which followed, however, wasn’t his.
