by Helen Harper
I was surprised to see that Byron’s rooms were smaller than mine. They were very clean and tidy but there wasn’t room to swing a cat. Maybe it was some sort of show of humility. If he could be the Steward’s son and not demand the grandest suite in the castle, then other Clans couldn’t complain about him getting preferential treatment. No wonder he’d gone all out at the Astor Hotel. I bet he spent as little time here as possible. Byron probably lived in palatial luxury back on Moncrieffe lands.
Ignoring his lingering scent, I made a beeline for his bed and checked underneath the mattress and the frame. I found a chewed-up pen lid and little else. I stood up again and stepped over to the chair where a pile of folded clothing lay. Carefully examining each item, I discovered nothing interesting. Perhaps Byron was too clever to leave anything incriminating behind. It was annoying, however, that there weren’t even any jewels or money that I could nab. There wasn’t even a crappy safe to crack.
After running through all the items in the bathroom, including checking the shampoo to see if it had a false bottom, I returned to the bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. I could play the seduction game again but I doubted he’d fall for it after walking in on Jamie and me. I wasn’t entirely sure I could stay in control in that kind of situation either. I needed to be sneakier.
I might have failed miserably at hiding out and spying on Byron at the Astor but if he really thought I was dead, he wouldn’t be expecting me here.
I sniffed my armpits. After my climb, I was definitely on the whiffy side. Not wanting my own smell to give me away, I grabbed his bottle of (surprisingly cheap) aftershave and daubed myself with it. I rather liked it. Maybe I’d keep it. Without thinking, I stuffed the bottle into one of my pockets. Then I smoothed down the sheets to remove all traces of my presence and scooted under the bed. I rather hoped he’d take his time returning. I could do with a little nap.
I was dozing off when the door slammed open. I just managed to stop myself from banging my head painfully as I jerked up. Close call.
‘Fuck!’ There was another bang. It was definitely Byron. He thumped something else. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’
Was he upset because he’d realised there wasn’t a body – charred or otherwise – inside the grove and I’d escaped? Or was he upset because he thought I was dead and he now had no way of restoring the Foinse?
I watched his feet stomp about, up one way and down another, over and over again. Considering the size of the room, I thought he’d get dizzy after a few turns but he just kept stomping and turning.
Eventually – and scant seconds before I thought I was going to go insane from watching his feet – there was a hesitant knock on the door. Byron flung it open with such force that it banged against the wall. If the castle hadn’t been made of stone, the ensuing vibrations would have been felt floors below.
‘What?’ he snapped.
I twisted my head, peering at the new set of shoes which had appeared. I was still trying to work out who they belonged to when the nervous cough enlightened me.
‘The Steward asked me to inform you…’
‘Of what?’ There was a strained urgency to Byron’s voice.
Jamie dropped the formality. I was glad. Regardless of what else was going on here, it didn’t seem fair for him to lose one of his friends just because of a quick shag based on post-traumatic desire. ‘Byron,’ he said, ‘she’s not there. Integrity’s not in the grove.’
Shite. I needed to see the expression on Byron’s face to be able tell whether he was pleased at this news or not.
After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes. She must have got out another way. She’s not in her room – we’ve already checked. I mean,’ Jamie backtracked, ‘Brody checked. Not me. I didn’t go inside. I…’
‘It’s fine, Jamie. But if she’s not in her room then where the fuck is she? Whoever did this might have hold of her. I should have taken that story about the worm more seriously.’ He thumped something again as overwhelming, unmitigated relief flooded through me. It hadn’t been him after all. ‘Fuck! I told her!’
‘Uh, told her what?’
He groaned. ‘That my second gift is pyrokinesis. No wonder she’s run.’
‘I’m sure she wouldn’t think that you had done all that though.’
Oh, you’d be surprised, Jamie.
Byron sighed. ‘Why would she trust me? I blackmailed her into coming here. I escorted her to the grove where someone threw fire at her. What if she’s hurt? If she’s hiding somewhere we might not find her in time.’ His voice was growing in both sound and desperation. That was nice. I could feel myself relaxing.
‘The Foinse isn’t dead yet,’ Jamie answered, obviously doing his best to be reassuring. ‘It could be months before all the magic leaks out. We’ll find her in time.’
I rolled my eyes. Of course. It wasn’t my life that was important; it was making sure the Foinse survived another thousand years that was the issue. I didn’t know why that stung. I didn’t want the magic to fail or gazillions of people to die. Even if someone else apparently did.
‘We’d better,’ came the growly rejoinder. I shivered. I was glad that Byron wasn’t the evil mastermind I’d suspected but I was still disturbed that he had such an effect on me. A husky rasp like that made me think of our encounter in his hotel room, with him underneath my legs, pinned so that I could… I mentally slapped myself. Enough of that.
Jamie coughed. ‘There is something else.’
Silence stretched out. I didn’t think it was possible for the nervous tension to ratchet up any further but I was wrong; I could virtually feel the air crackle. I was half tempted to leap out and grab Jamie by his lapels, shove my nails into his cute little dimples and demand that he get on with it.
‘Go on,’ Byron said grimly.
Yes, Jamie, get on with it.
‘The police were forced to let her two partners in crime go.’
Byron hissed. ‘We knew that was going to happen sooner or later.’
‘Not this soon, though. I still have evidence of that last job they pulled. I could make an anonymous tip.’
I seethed. So much for our night of passion, Jamie. Or hour of passion. Okay, ten minutes of passion. Brochan, Speck and Lexie might be safely tucked away around the corner but they’d want to return to their own world sooner or later. If Byron made that an impossibility, I’d ruin him – whether he was concerned about my wellbeing or not.
‘No,’ Byron answered. ‘We’ve gone past that point now. It was a means to an end. But how did they get out so quickly? I thought we’d have a couple of days at least.’
Jamie coughed again. Uh oh. Here we go. ‘There was a barrister. He petitioned the courts.’
‘Where did the money come from to pay him?’ Jamie didn’t answer. I heard a heavy sigh. ‘Let me guess,’ Byron said tiredly. ‘The Lia Saifire.’
‘It was sold for a considerable amount to a warlock over in Fort William.’
There was another loud thump. ‘Fucking hell.’
I frowned. He was taking the loss very badly. Did the sapphire have powers that I’d not been aware of? But why use it as bait if it were so precious? Surely the Moncrieffe Clan could have rustled up some non-magical gems to use. Something wasn’t adding up.
‘Does my father know?’
‘Not yet,’ Jamie said.
Byron sighed. ‘Come on then. You can watch me be the bearer of yet more bad tidings.’
I stayed where I was until I was certain both of them had left the room. Then I scooted out from underneath the bed. Well, well, well. Byron had been correct: – all was most definitely not as it seemed.
*
I slid out of the room, taking extra care in case anyone spotted me. I didn’t want to be caught sidling out of Byron’s rooms. Thus far, the lower class Sidhe and the servants had appeared to be on my side, but that didn’t mean I was going to take unnecessary risks.
I stayed as low
as possible until I was well away from Byron’s wing of the castle. As I walked, I pinched my cheeks; hopefully I could make them red enough to give the illusion of an oncoming fever. The moment I emerged out onto a busier corridor, I straightened my back, allowed my features to form into a hard mask and marched towards the round-tabled room where I’d encountered Aifric and the rest of the Sidhe royal wankers.
Several people gaped at me along the way. I glared at them, satisfied when most of them scuttled away. When I reached the room, I slammed open the door and glowered. The light from behind me was strong, silhouetting my form. Aifric, Byron and Jamie were there and they had to shade their eyes to work out it was me. I rather liked that effect. I’d have to time grand entrances like this more often.
‘What gives?’ I snarled. ‘I thought the grove was supposed to be sacred. Now you’re all trying to kill me instead. I’ve got a banging headache, I don’t feel well and I’m in a really shitty mood. Where did those fireballs come from?’
Aifric recovered his voice first although I noted that both Byron and Jamie looked relieved. Yeah, yeah. I was still around to save all their sorry arses. Hurray.
‘I’m glad you’re alright, Ms Taylor.’
It was a shame he didn’t address me as chieftain; that would have been even more fun. ‘No thanks to any of you. Who is doing this? Who’s trying to murder me? That’s two attacks in less than twenty-four hours!’
Aifric’s expression was grim. ‘I can assure you that we’re working on it.’
‘Working on it? You’re going to have to try a damn sight harder than that. Who has more than one Gift around here? Pyrokinesis and summoning? Who can do both?’
Aifric exchanged a look with his son. ‘No one that we know of. We have our best people working through the magical register though. We will find them.’
I tilted up my chin. ‘You’d better hope it’s before I end up getting fried. Where will you all be then?’
‘We will put a guard on your rooms.’
‘No, you sodding won’t. How can I trust your guards? They might be in on the plot.’
He stiffened. ‘Our people are loyal.’
‘When someone stops trying to murder me, I might believe that.’ I swept an imperious gaze across the lot of them. ‘I don’t feel well,’ I declared. ‘I’m going to lie down. Give me back my letter opener.’
Jamie and Aifric both gave me strange looks but Byron dug into his pocket and handed it over. I felt considerably more secure with Bob back with me. As soon as I’d tucked the knife away, I held a hand to my forehead and frowned.
‘You have a fever.’ Byron’s voice was quiet.
Yes, Golden Boy. I have a very bad fever. Spread that little titbit around so everyone thinks I’m about to receive some terrible Gift that’ll put yours to shame.
‘It better not last long,’ I grumbled aloud. ‘The faster we can start travelling to the Foinse, the faster I can escape this hell hole.’
‘I’ll have some chicken soup sent up to your room. That usually helps.’
My eyes narrowed in disgust. ‘I thought you guys had been keeping an eye on me. Don’t you know I’m vegetarian?’ I had no idea where that came from. I loved bacon. I must have been trying to goad poor Aifric Moncrieffe into more grovelling.
‘I’m sure we can arrange something that will suit your tastes,’ he said without a trace of a grovel. Oh well.
I harrumphed loudly and spun round, adding a wobble for good measure. Then I stalked out.
My grand exit wasn’t as dramatic as my entrance. Mainly because I’d barely gone three steps before Byron caught up with me and grabbed my elbow. ‘Are you okay?’ he demanded.
‘Do I look okay?’ I snarled back. ‘I’m amazed I have any eyebrows left after that fiery demonstration.’
He gazed at me, his face impassive. ‘How did you get out of the grove without anyone noticing?’
A slightly crazy Macquarrie woman. I sniffed. ‘It’s not my fault if you weren’t paying attention.’
Something sparked in his eyes but he sensibly held his tongue. ‘You should take up the offer of the guards,’ he said instead. ‘Whatever you might think, the Moncrieffes are not trying to hurt you.’
‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’
He ran a hand through his bronzed hair. Damn that stupid curl for still being there. ‘I know you think that it was me because my second Gift is pyrokinesis. It wasn’t me, though, Integrity. I promise you that. I wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of bringing you here simply to try and kill you. I could have done that when you were sleeping in my arms.’
I stiffened. This time it wasn’t an act. Why did he have to bring that up again? ‘I know it wasn’t you,’ I said with an air of affected insouciance. ‘You’re not the type.’
‘You didn’t suspect me?’ He was watching my reaction very carefully.
‘No,’ I lied. ‘I’m good at reading people.’
Byron looked relieved. ‘I’m pleased.’
‘Now I really do have to go and lie down.’
‘I’ll escort you.’
I looked him over. It would take a brave evil mastermind to try and kill me when the Steward’s son was around. He could easily get caught in the crossfire. ‘Fine,’ I snapped. ‘Lead the way.’
Byron took my arm. I must have been doing a better job of acting sick than I’d realised. He leaned in towards me and sniffed. ‘You smell … interesting.’
Shite. I’d forgotten that I’d thrown his aftershave all over my skin. ‘What can I say?’ I shrugged. ‘I meant it before when I said you smelled delicious so I bought some of that aftershave to use myself.’
Something flitted across his face and he dropped his voice. ‘I like that you want to smell like me. It’s as if you’ve been rubbing yourself all over my body like a cat.’
I pushed away the image of me doing just that. It certainly hadn’t taken him long to get over the trauma of my ‘death’. ‘It’s the smell of the aftershave I like. Not you.’
He grinned. ‘And here was me thinking you were a girly girl with all of your hot pink attire.’
A girly girl? I liked Hello Kitty and hot pink and sparkly nail polish. But pigeonholing me was unfair; I also liked science fiction and scaling high walls without a rope. Why did men always think you were either a tomboy or a princess? It was possible to be both.
Byron must have sensed my antagonism. ‘It doesn’t mean I think you’re a pushover,’ he breathed. ‘Far from it.’
His voice had changed into that husky rasp again. It was sooo time to back away. ‘Considering I’ve survived being eaten by a giant sea worm and being barbecued like a marshmallow, I’d say that was a given,’ I said stiffly. And with that, we walked in silence back to my room.
Chapter Sixteen
I might not have known much about the Sidhe but people were predictable. It was pretty much a given that Aifric would place an unobtrusive guard on my rooms. He couldn’t afford to have me killed off by whichever renegade Sidhe was doing all this shit – not before I’d fixed his Foinse. With that in mind, I slipped out soon after Byron dropped me off – and before any guards could take their places.
I couldn’t wait around for Brochan to use my true name to bring me to him. I wasn’t sure how long I could carry off this fever business. When it was all over, I’d also need to pretend that I had gained some stupid Gift. I had no idea how I’d manage that. Still, I still felt chipper, despite my near-death experiences; I was certain that my words to Brochan were going to prove true and I was going to escape any divine presents.
I found all three of them huddled round a table in a room near the top of the tower Brochan had pointed out. Lexie and Speck sprang up, barrelling into me with outstretched arms.
‘You’re safe!’ Lexie exclaimed. ‘Brochan told us what happened. How can these idiots want you to save them when they’re trying to kill you at the same time?’
‘Because you said it, Lex,’ Speck added, giving me a warm hug. �
��They’re idiots.’
Lexie raised her blue eyebrows. ‘Are you actually agreeing with me for once?’
‘Even a stopped clock is right twice a day,’ he said.
She frowned at him before turning back to me. ‘You wouldn’t believe the bounty we’ve managed to get while we’ve been here. These Fey planks just leave stuff lying around all over the place. Look!’ She pointed to a collection on the table: there was all manner of jewellery, coins and fripperies.
I gave an approving nod. ‘Nice work. Take care who you target, though. It might be better to leave the Moncrieffes alone.’
Even Brochan looked surprised at that. ‘Why?’
‘Byron Moncrieffe is stepping out with Tipsania Scrymgeour. He gave her a beautiful emerald necklace made entirely out of glass.’
Speck’s eyes gleamed. ‘A man after my own heart.’
‘Not only that,’ I continued, ‘but he seemed very worked up at the loss of the Lia Saifire. I think the Moncrieffes are broke.’
Lexie’s mouth dropped open. ‘No shit. There’s not been the faintest whisper of that anywhere on the streets.’
I shrugged, picking up one of the gold coins and weighing it in my hand. ‘They’d want to keep it quiet. Aifric Moncrieffe might have been the Steward for the last three decades but if he can’t keep his own finances in check, the other Clans might toss him out.’
‘What goes around comes around,’ Speck shrugged. ‘Although it explains why his son’s shagging Tipsy Scrymgeour. Her Clan is loaded.’
Brochan was watching me carefully. ‘I’m guessing that since you’re not encouraging us to help ruin them, Byron Moncrieffe isn’t responsible for the attacks.’
‘He’s not. And sometimes better the devil you know. Aifric Moncrieffe is a known quantity. If someone else took his place as Steward, things might get better – or they might get a whole lot worse. Until I have a better understanding of Sidhe politics, we’re best not exacerbating his situation.’
