by Helen Harper
For the time being, we’d gone the old-fashioned route. Not for nothing had I spent my formative teenage years practising the art of thievery on the streets. I’d learnt how to blend in. It wasn’t about wearing a hat and big sunglasses, it was about attitude. So while my long white hair was completely covered, my skin was temporarily darkened and my face was in shadow, I also held myself differently. Rather than projecting the image of an all-powerful Sidhe Chieftain who cared nothing for the opinion of others, I’d chosen to take on the persona of a slick trophy wife.
Anyone who’s never had to disguise themselves won’t get it. Amateurs always believe that the best way to conceal yourself is to hunch over and fade into the background. The truth is that there are very few people capable of successfully pulling off that kind of feat. Even my years of slinking around the corridors of the Bull’s mansion and trying to avoid being noticed hadn’t made me an expert at it. Misdirection is far easier. As far as anyone who saw me knew, I was a rich woman who cared far too much about her appearance. My tight, expensive clothes and showy designer headscarf were as much about creating a picture as providing a disguise. With the obvious strut in my step and the way I thrust out my chest, even people I knew would be hard pressed to believe I was anything other than what I presented. Although my posture meant that my lower back was beginning to twinge, the high heels I was wearing made me feel rather sexy. It was a real shame they weren’t pink. Even with my supposed demise, pink would have been too dangerous.
‘Admit it, Uh Integrity,’ Bob murmured in my ear, ‘right now you think you’re pretty hot.’
Just then a car passed by with a scruffy-looking warlock in the passenger seat. He leaned out and leered at me. I smiled. ‘I don’t think, Bob,’ I murmured. ‘I know.’ It was true; looking like this was about self-belief. As Bob himself could attest if he were introspective enough, ego was vital to any façade.
I lifted my chin and strutted down the long street. From time to time I paused and glanced in shop windows to check who was behind me as well as to maintain my cover as a woman hell-bent on shopping. So far so good. I hummed to myself and crossed the street. As Tipsania had said, there was only one store in town worth visiting if you were planning upscale nuptials. I grinned as MacKay’s Marriage Emporium came into view. Bring on the meringues.
The door jangled as I entered, not with a bell-like noise but with the opening bars of Wagner’s bridal march. Neat.
‘I think I just vomited in my mouth,’ Bob whispered.
I avoided rolling my eyes as a shop assistant gave me the once over. Apparently deciding I was a fish worth reeling in, she strolled over and thrust out a perfectly manicured hand. ‘Good afternoon,’ she purred. ‘My name is Shona and I’m a bridal consultant here at the wonderful MacKay’s Emporium.’ Her smile grew to a blinding intensity. ‘We can make all of your wishes come true.’
Bob choked. I returned Shona’s smile and took her hand. ‘Thank you so much,’ I responded breathily in my best Italian accent. ‘I have heard you are the best in Scotland and, as I cannot be home in Milano for my wedding, I am looking for a shop which can meet my expectations.’ I leaned in slightly. ‘They are very high. One only gets married once ‒ or perhaps twice.’ I paused and gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Maybe three times. It’s very important that the wedding is perfect.’
Shona didn’t even blink. ‘Of course! And you’re Italian, you say? Benvenuto al nostro meraviglioso negozio.’
Shite. I should have opted for Greek. I clapped my hands as if in wild applause. ‘You Scots are so charming!’ I replied in English, adding just the faintest patronising tone to keep her away from any more attempts at my ‘native’ language.
A consummate professional, Shona’s smile didn’t waver. ‘Is this your first visit here?’ she enquired.
Playing dumb was fun. I smiled prettily to mask my smirk. ‘To the Granite City? Why no.’
‘Uh, great.’ Shona’s expression didn’t flicker. ‘And is it your first visit to our little store?’
I looked around. Calling MacKay’s Marriage Emporium ‘little’ was hardly apt. The place might look rather nondescript from outside but I could see that inside it stretched back in a cavernous confection of lace, frills and wedding joy.
‘It is,’ I replied. ‘I’m just shopping around for now. The truth is that I don’t even have a date yet. My fiancé, Byr…’ I shook myself. Where the hell had that come from? ‘My fiancé,’ I repeated, ‘wants a spring wedding but I’m not sure I can wait that long.’ I added a simper. Considering I was already blushing, it looked very natural.
Shona raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t be sure whether my Freudian slip had caught her attention or not. ‘Oh, spring is simply the best time,’ she said. ‘Let me show you what we have on offer.’
I allowed Shona to lead me round, pausing every so often to gush over a particular piece of tulle or laced frippery. When we reached the display of wedding cakes and her head was turned the other way, Bob zipped out from underneath my headscarf. In one fell swoop he knocked both the miniature bride and groom off the top of the largest tiered monstrosity. Then he posed this way and that while I tried – with some difficulty – to keep a straight face. When he dropped onto his back and began to wave his arms and legs up and down to make an icing angel, I had to blink rapidly and swallow.
‘Your collections are beautiful,’ I said, taking Shona and leading her away from the cake before she noticed him. I spoke with a fair degree of honesty; there was a tad too much virginal white for my taste, and my eyes were beginning to swim from all the delicate lace, but there was no denying that MacKay’s took great care over its offerings. I bit my lip. ‘I wonder, though, whether you can produce what I require. I anticipate my wedding will be very large scale.’ I smiled innocently and pretended not to notice the flash of avarice in Shona’s expression.
‘Oh,’ she said reassuringly, ‘we deal with large weddings all the time. How many guests were you thinking of?’
I plucked a figure out of the air. ‘I’ve only just started the list,’ I answered, ‘and I’m already at more than a thousand. It’s so important in this day and age to ensure that no one is left out in the cold or offended because they’re not included. Perhaps if you could tell me of any large weddings you’re currently planning I would have a better idea about whether you could manage mine. I want it to be the best.’ I sounded like the worst kind of bridezilla. Considering Shona didn’t blink, however, I guessed that in this industry it was par for the course.
Fortunately it worked. She glanced round as if wary of being overheard and then dropped her voice. ‘You didn’t hear this from me,’ she said conspiratorially, ‘but we’ve been engaged to arrange the upcoming nuptials of Byron Moncrieffe and Tipsania Scrymgeour. It’s going to be the wedding of the century, and not just because it’s Sidhe. Byron is son to the Steward himself and the Scrymgeours are incredibly wealthy. No expense will be spared.’
My eyes lit up while I quashed the desperate sinking feeling in my stomach. ‘How wonderful!’ I cooed. ‘I imagine Ms Scrymgeour has been in regularly for dress fittings. She’ll want to make sure everything is perfect for such a high-profile ceremony.’
This time Shona couldn’t prevent her mask from slipping. Her face dropped in genuine dismay, although she did her best to provide Tipsania with excuses. ‘She’s been far too busy to come in. We are some distance from the Scrymgeour Clan Lands here. We have precise information of her measurements, though, and we’re confident her dress will be perfect.’
I looked from side to side. ‘I don’t suppose I could see it? I promise I won’t tell a soul.’ Her expression immediately closed up. Uh oh. She opened her mouth to speak but I forestalled her. ‘Of course, I understand if you can’t. Confidentiality is important and if the dress isn’t ready yet…’ I paused. ‘When did you say the wedding will be?’
Shona began to fidget. ‘A week on Saturday.’
‘That’s cutting it fine.’
&nb
sp; ‘The dress is ready. In fact we’re to deliver to Miss Scrymgeour tomorrow.’
I smiled, making it obvious that I didn’t believe her. ‘Mmm.’
My prevarication did the trick. Shona took me by the elbow. ‘You can’t tell anyone.’
Only just managing to keep the grin off my face, I nodded fervently. ‘Of course.’
We veered through the shop, side-stepping a few wide-eyed women, and headed into a back room. There, in the centre, was a massive white … thing. My jaw dropped and I wasn’t even faking. ‘That’s, er, that’s big.’ My gaze drifted over the white monstrosity. There were bows everywhere. The skirt was so large that I doubted Tipsania would fit through the massive doors at the Cruaich. It was also surprisingly demure, with a high sweetheart neckline. In fact, it looked like the kind of dress a girl dreamed of when she was about six years old. Or the kind of dress a father might imagine his princess wearing.
I scratched my head. ‘So, this is what Tipsania Scrymgeour wanted?’
‘Oh yes.’ Shona nodded proudly.
‘She told you that?’ I asked, circling it. It took a good ten seconds to work my way around, even at a brisk pace.
‘She was very explicit in her emails.’
Sure she was. Asking to see those emails would be a step too far, even for the compliant Shona. Anyway, I had everything I needed from her. Whatever was going on, the Bull was fully complicit. I smiled my thanks, retrieved Bob from underneath a scrap of veil that he was admiring himself in and made my escape.
Chapter Three
‘The wedding’s not taking place at the Cruaich,’ Angus MacQuarrie informed me. He joined us as we regrouped down by the windswept dunes of Balmedie beach, where the granite grey city of Aberdeen met the stormy grey North Sea.
That was a surprise. Given Byron’s status as the Steward’s son, I’d assumed the Sidhe seat of power would be the natural choice for a venue. ‘Really?’
‘The invites have only just gone out or I could have come and told you about it in person. It appears that both Clans have decided on neutral ground. It’s happening on Muck.’
‘I take it that you’re referring to the Hebridean island and not that this entire charade is a piece of shite and everyone’s just mucking around?’ I asked drily.
His mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘Tegs,’ he said, sounding worried, ‘word is that Byron wants it to happen there because it’s where his mother was from. He wants to marry the woman he loves there in a homage to his mother.’
I shook my head. ‘Nope. This whole thing has been cooked up between the Bull and Aifric. They probably want it to happen there because it’s the most isolated damn place you’re likely to get. That way neither Tipsy nor Byron is going to run away at the last minute.’
Taylor placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. ‘Tipsania’s already run away.’
I ignored that part. ‘What we still don’t have is motive,’ I mused. ‘Aifric needs the money the Scrymgeours can offer but there must be a reason why he still wants the ceremony to go ahead even though he doesn’t have the bride. And we still don’t know what that reason is.’ I toed at the soft sand. ‘Something’s afoot.’
Taylor remained impassive. ‘Are you sure you’re not getting involved in this because of what’s between you and Byron?’
I ignored Angus’s raised eyebrow. ‘Nothing’s going on between me and Byron. He thinks I’m dead. And it’s not just me who thinks this is worth the risk. Morna reckons it should be investigated.’ I paused. ‘And Tipsania is my guest. It’s my duty to protect her.’ I didn’t meet his eyes; I was starting to feel that I was protesting too much.
Taylor gazed at me, our decade and a half long relationship reflected in the knowing wisdom in his eyes. ‘Don’t kid a kidder, Tegs. And don’t kid yourself either.’
‘Okay,’ I conceded. ‘Maybe part of this is to do with Byron. But,’ I held up my hand, ‘more of it is to do with Aifric.’ Taylor huffed in disbelief. ‘I mean it. We know that Aifric is the bastard here, Taylor. He’s the one who murdered my parents and destroyed my Clan. He’s the one who was desperate to see me cold in the ground. What if he knows that Tipsania is missing and is going to use her absence and the way that absence snubs Byron to attack the Scrymgeours? It could be some kind of power grab. Now he thinks he doesn’t have to worry about me any more, he could be going after the rest of his competition.’
Taylor eyed me. ‘What do you care? You’ve lived most of your life without giving a hoot about any Sidhe, living or dead.’
Angus nodded in agreement. ‘The Clans have always ignored you. Leave them to their machinations.’
I glanced from one to the other and sighed. ‘I can’t pretend that I’m that person any more,’ I said quietly. ‘And one way or another I’m going to bring down Aifric Moncrieffe.’
‘Even if it means destroying his son in the process?’
I looked down. ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ I was hoping I wouldn’t. Unfortunately, there’s no fool like an optimistic fool.
‘Three to one this is going to end in disaster,’ Taylor said. My head shot back up and I glared at him. ‘Those are pretty good odds given the circumstances.’
I tutted in disgust, although I appreciated that he was doing what he could to lighten the mood. ‘Let’s stay focused, shall we?’ I pulled off my headscarf and let the wind do its worst to my hair, whipping it round my face in white tangles. ‘Maybe we should concentrate on the Bull. He’s the weak link in all this and not just because I have his true name. He must know that his daughter is missing. I mean, she’s been with us for months.’
‘He’s telling everyone that she’s sick and is staying at home.’
‘Obviously she’s not though,’ I persisted. ‘Why hasn’t he done something to stop the wedding?’
‘That’s easy,’ Lexie said, appearing from behind the nearest dune and holding hands with Speck. ‘He’s afraid of Aifric.’
‘He’ll have more cause to be afraid when Aifric’s only son gets jilted at the altar. We need to find out for sure,’ I said decisively. ‘They could be in cahoots and he could lead us to Aifric’s true motives. The Scrymgeour borders are weak because of the lack of trolls guarding them. We can slip through.’
Speck frowned. ‘There’s no we,’ he chided. ‘You don’t have enough of Tipsania’s Invisibility Gift left and you can’t afford to let Aifric see you and realise you’re still alive.’
‘Except,’ I grinned, ‘I’m the only one who knows the layout of his castle. It’s too complicated to map out for you. I have to go. I can conceal myself well enough without magic.’
‘Brochan won’t like it.’
I shrugged.
Lexie tilted her chin, her blue hair ruffled by the wind. ‘Speaking of the grumpy merman, where is Brochan? Did he find Candy?’
‘No trace of the Wild Man. They’re a law unto themselves at the best of times.’ I smirked. ‘Brochan is hiding back there, away from the sea. Bob is keeping him company.’
We exchanged glances. I pushed myself onto my tiptoes and looked over the bank of sand. Bob was wearing a rather startling mankini and tugging at the finger of a glowering and sneezing Brochan as he tried to get him to move closer to the sea.
‘I think Brochan will be happy we’re going to the Bull. At least we’ll be inland,’ Lexie mused.
Speck still appeared troubled. ‘This castle. We’re not going to have to scale any walls, are we? And it doesn’t have any mice or bats or anything, right? Or cramped spaces?’
My smile widened. ‘You’re the most powerful warlock in Scotland now, Specky. All you have to do is cast a spell.’
‘I’d rather stay here by the sea,’ he muttered.
‘What do you call a warlock who hangs out on the beach?’ I received nothing but sighs of irritation in response. ‘A surfer druid!’
‘I have to say it, Tegs,’ Lexie interjected. ‘That’s truly the worst one you’ve told us for a long time.’
‘Yeah. I’m under a lot of pressure these days, though,’ I admitted. ‘Stick with me and I’ll do better soon.’
She raised her eyes to the heavens. ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’
***
We left Angus to return to the MacQuarries. It was no secret that he’d sworn fealty to me on their behalf and, even with my alleged death, it was important that he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary which might raise suspicion. Having him – and the rest of his Clan – on our side made me feel considerably better. Despite my jokey bravado, however, I had mixed feelings about coming back to the Bull’s corner of Scotland.
Taylor pulled up in the same layby where we’d first met all those years before and I couldn’t prevent a shiver rattling down my spine as I stared at the familiar spot. With the wedding less than two weeks away, time was of the essence. We couldn’t afford to run back to the Adair Lands so that I could nab some more of Tipsania’s Gift. Even so, I was starting to regret not taking a couple of hours to find a Sidhe in Aberdeen whose Gifts I could steal. I was being brave, not foolhardy, I told myself. This was necessary.
Lexie, Speck, Brochan and Bob were oblivious to the historical nature of our surroundings but Taylor and I got out of the car and stayed silent, looking around then looking at each other. ‘It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’ I asked him eventually. ‘If you’d left five minutes earlier…’
‘Or if you’d come out at a different spot…’
I smiled at him. ‘You’d probably have been arrested. You’d have ended up in the clink as the buddy of some hulking Bauchan with wobbly tattoos and a penchant for ginger-haired humans.’
