Chapter Ten

 

The small bar on the edge of St. Andrews Square was smoky and reeked of stale beer. I cast my eyes around, quickly alighting on Lexie who was sitting in the far corner, nursing some strange green concoction. It was so lurid in colour that I was briefly reminded of Byron’s eyes. Ick. I didn’t want to give him a single thought. Not unless it involved stripping him of all his wealth (and maybe his clothes too).

I slid into the seat opposite. ‘Piss off,’ Lexie grunted, without looking up.

‘Hey,’ I said softly. ‘It’s me.’

Her head jerked up and her face filled with relief. ‘Integrity! Where the hell have you been? What’s been going on? Why haven’t you been in touch? Have you heard from Brochan or Speck? Do you know if I’m in danger? What about…’

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa.’ I raised my palms. ‘Chill, Lex. Everything’s good.’

She gazed at me like I was a total idiot. ‘Good? Good? How can everything be good?’

I winced. ‘Keep your voice down. You need to keep a low profile, remember?’

She subsided into a series of blue-tinged grumbles.

‘That’s better,’ I said, like a disapproving teacher. ‘How many of those have you had?’

She tapped her glass. ‘These? I dunno. Half a dozen maybe.’

I eyed the drink with distaste. ‘What’s in it?’

‘Crème de menthe, vodka and Amaretto. Want to try?’

Eurgh. ‘No thanks.’ I caught the attention of the bartender. ‘Jug of coffee, please. And make it strong.’

‘You’re no fun. I’m drowning my sorrows. You should join me.’

‘I have things to do. And so do you.’

‘Yeah? Like what?’

I took out the velvet bag and threw it on the table. It clunked heavily against the wood. Lexie looked at it and then at me. She took another sip of her green monster before curiosity got the better of her. She picked up the bag and peered inside it.

I waited. When her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide, I grinned.

‘How…?’ she breathed.

‘Long story. Taylor can fill you in on the details later.’

She shook her head with incredible vehemence. ‘No way. You can ply me with all the coffee you like and give me as many priceless jewels as you can find but I’m not venturing out there again. I’m not going to prison, Tegs.’

About this, at least, I was confident. ‘You’re not going to go to prison,’ I told her. ‘They’re no longer looking for you.’

‘Yeah?’ She did a good impression of one of those disbelieving women you get on daytime chat shows when they’re told their husbands have been cheating on them.

‘Yes,’ I replied firmly. ‘It was me they were after and they’ve got me.’

Lexie blinked. ‘Eh?’

‘Like I said, Taylor will fill you in. What you two need to do is to get hold of the buyer and get rid of that.’ I nodded towards the Lia Saifire. Recovering it had opened up a whole host of options. ‘With the money, hire the meanest, nastiest lawyer in town. Get Speck and Brochan released, even if it’s only on bail. Once that’s done, you need to talk to Charlie.’

‘Who?’

‘My neighbour. He deals in a lot of black-market stuff. One of things which he professes to have is a device that will temporarily negate the barrier spells the Sidhe have put around the Clan areas. All four of you have to get to the Cruaich.’

Lexie’s face paled. ‘That’s where the Sidhe court is.’

‘Yup. Get there. Find somewhere to hide. Every night at midnight, set off our signal. I’ll come and find you. If five nights pass and I don’t come for you then get the hell out of there and don’t look back.’

She stared at me. The bartender appeared out of nowhere and slammed the coffee jug down on the table between us. We both jumped.

‘Got it?’ I asked her softly.

She nodded. ‘I’m not dreaming, am I? I don’t think there’s absinthe my drink but I could be mistaken. It’s happened before…’

I pointed at the coffee and stood up. ‘Drink that before you leave,’ I instructed. ‘All of it.’

 

*

 

Less than two hours later, I was standing in front of the gates leading to the Cruaich with a small pink suitcase in tow. As with many places in Scotland, it hadn’t been easy to get here. So much for the joys of living in a rural location; not for the first time, I wished someone had invented the Star Trek transporters for real. Public transport was a pain in the arse.

I tugged at my case. I was hoping it wouldn’t take long to do this Foinse business but it never hurt to come prepared. There weren’t any guards on duty although, with the magical barrier in place, there really didn’t need to be. I guessed that although the Sidhe knew the magic was failing, they weren’t expecting it to happen today.

I took off my hat and ran my fingers through my hair, getting rid of any tangles. I’d swapped my trainers for a pair of high stiletto boots. I’d paid a cobbler to paint over the soles for me in lacquered hot pink. They weren’t Christian Louboutin - they were better. Dressing to kill always made me more confident and I was going to need all the confidence I could muster. I’d even managed to paint my nails on the way here in the taxi and it took a steady hand to achieve that sort of art. The colour matched the shoes. Naturally. I was going to show all those Sidhe wankers ‒ Byron included ‒ that I wasn’t afraid of them.

Just in case someone was watching, I tossed my hair disdainfully. The wind caught it and a halo of white flew up around my head. Even I had to admit it was impressive. Still looking like an avenging angel, with Mother Nature herself at my beck and call, I stepped through.

If I’d been here when I was a kid, I didn’t remember it. Cruaich in Gaelic translates as ‘hill’. What wasn’t apparent from the other side of the barrier was the vast castle on top of that hill. The length of the driveway wasn’t obvious either. I glanced down at my shoes. Maybe I should have worn my trainers after all. I shrugged. Well, I was here now. It wasn’t the time to start rummaging through my bag.

I started walking. The trees here were different to the ones on the other side; their leaves were greener and their branches spread further. They were also considerably more gnarled, attesting to their age. A faint memory tugged at me as I strode upwards, one involving my far younger self clambering up a similar specimen to retrieve a particularly delicious-looking apple. As I recall, I fell long before I reached my goal and received a sharp scolding as a result. Not that getting a scolding was anything out of the ordinary for me. Not back then.

I allowed the memories to flood over me. Almost every single one was unhappy and they bolstered my feelings of antipathy. The Sidhe weren’t likely to convince me with their tales of ‘oh, but we’re saving the world’ as long as I could remember how they’d treated one solitary orphan.

I was halfway up the drive, my expression grim and my heart hard, when I spotted someone. Unmistakably Sidhe.  He came right out of the main gate, standing to one side as I approached. Whoever he was, he didn’t appear to be doing anything other than watching me. Not long after, he was joined by another one. Then another and another and another.

By the time I’d gone another sixty steps, there must have been a hundred Sidhe watching me. None of them uttered a single word. It was seriously creepy. I could feel my stomach in knots. What exactly were they planning? I was no match for one well-trained Sidhe, let alone this number. However if they tried to rip me to shreds, they’d have no chance with the Foinse. If they were going to use words to intimidate me … well, I was sure I’d heard worse in my time. I stiffened my resolve. How bad could this be?

When I reached the first watcher, I made a point of refusing to look at him. There was a sudden movement and I tensed, waiting for the attack to come. There was nothing. The next Sidhe also moved, followed by the one after that. One by one, each of the watching Sidhe copied the next. At first I couldn’t work it out; it was like some strange Fey Mexican wave. When I finally looked over and realised what they were doing, it hit me like a painful bolt in the chest. They were bowing. To me.

My heels clicked against the ground. Even I heard my steps falter. Then I picked up the pace again. They were probably just relieved I was coming to save their sorry arses. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t try and stab me in the back once I was done.

I’d almost reached the castle when another figure appeared. This one I knew. Byron was no longer wearing the casual T-shirt from our last encounter; instead he had on an elaborate floaty white shirt which was open at the neck. He’d foregone trousers for a traditional kilt in Moncrieffe colours. Irritatingly, it matched his eyes as if it had been designed just for him. The heavy tartan folds rippled in the gentle breeze. If he was trying to look like a cover model from a steamy historical romance, he was succeeding.

He pasted a smile on his face that belied his anger. When I stepped up to him and took his outstretched hand, he pulled me close and whispered in my ear. ‘The Lia Saifire appears to have gone missing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’

I grinned. ‘Goodness. How very careless of you to lose such a priceless gem.’

Byron growled and released me. ‘Miss Adair, if you’d like to follow me.’

I raised up my chin. ‘Actually, it’s Taylor.’

Something unfathomable crossed his eyes. ‘Pardon?’

‘Taylor,’ I told him. ‘My name is Integrity Taylor. Clan Adair is of no consequence to me.’ I took Taylor’s surname not long after I joined him. It meant far more than some defunct Sidhe Clan ever could.

Byron’s green eyes darkened. ‘These people are here because of the Adair name.’

‘Despite what my father did?’

‘Look a little closer. They’re all lower-level Sidhe. You won’t find many amongst the highborn bowing to you.’ His tone was more sympathetic than taunting.

I looked back at the Sidhe who were still watching me and shrugged. ‘Curiosity never killed anything except a couple of hours. They can rubberneck what they want.’ Hell, despite the weird bowing thing, they were probably hoping I had horns sprouting from my head and a forked tongue. I was almost sorry to disappoint them.

Byron seemed to decide that engaging me in discussion about my name was pointless. He turned round and strode ahead. I gazed after him for a second then followed. Whatever was about to unfold within the depths of the Cruaich castle, it certainly wouldn’t be dull.

Once inside, I was surprised at the interior. It wasn’t as flash as I expected. It was grand, certainly, but more from a sense of ancient tradition than ostentatious wealth. Byron was moving well ahead of me but rather than quicken my step to keep up, I deliberately slowed my pace and drank in my surroundings.

A red carpet ran the length of the stone-flagged floor and the walls were draped with the different Clan tartans, most of which I was surprised to recognise. The Adair Clan colours, a clash of orange, blue and green as I recalled, were conspicuously absent. So much for making a big deal out of the Adair name, I thought sardonically.

There was a set of grand doors at the end of the carpet. Byron stopped at them and turned, impatiently tapping his foot as I ambled towards him. He didn’t seem happy at my slow progress.

I was overtaken by a sense of mischief that I rarely indulged. I stopped and took out my phone. Byron’s expression grew even more thunderous, especially when I took several selfies, flicking my hair and pouting at myself. I was taking inspiration from Lexie; she was very skilled at this sort of thing.

‘Get a move on.’

‘But, Your Highness, I want to record myself for posterity. There has to be some sort of record that I was here. Otherwise when you try to get rid of me once I’ve helped you reach the Foinse, I won’t be able to prove that I was here.’

Byron blinked in astonishment. Interesting. Perhaps that wasn’t the endgame after all – but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

‘I’m going to send this to a few friends,’ I chirped. ‘So they know where I am.’ I pressed the necessary buttons. My hairdresser would be very surprised when she checked her messages.

‘Whatever you might think,’ Byron said, his voice softening a touch, ‘we are not going to hurt you.’

I met his eyes. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’ I jerked my head at the doors. ‘Aren’t we going in?’

A muscle in his jaw throbbed. ‘Just one thing first.’ He dug into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. I recognised it immediately. It was good to know that my little diversion had worked. I wondered how hard it had been to retrieve the letter from the post office after I dropped it into international mail. ‘Can you explain this?’

‘Explain what?’

He slid out the glossy page that was folded inside the envelope and waved it in my direction. I’d torn it out of one of Taylor’s girlie mags; it was a particularly graphic representation of a mocked-up Sidhe man performing fellatio on a rather well-endowed female troll.

‘You know that intercepting mail is a serious offence?’ I enquired, cocking my head.

‘These immature little rebellions are pointless. They’re only going to delay matters.’

I looked at him from under my eyelashes. The loss of the Lia Saifire and the pornographic post were really getting to him - probably because he wasn’t as ‘in charge’ as he liked to be. Good.

‘How long are these matters going to take?’ I asked.

‘We’ll head out for the Foinse straight after dawn. It takes about a day to get there. We’ll arrive in the grove by midday Tuesday so if all goes to plan, you can be back home and sleeping in your own bed by Thursday night.’ Something sparked in his eyes. ‘If you wish, I can tuck you in.’

Byron was obviously irritated and was trying to intimidate me and put me in my place. I quashed down the lustful butterflies that sprang up in my stomach and licked my lips. I twirled my fingers through my hair and moved closer to him, brushing against his body. The answering tension in his muscles brought me deep satisfaction.

‘Don’t,’ he growled.

I stepped back. ‘Then stop trying to flirt with me. We both know that moment has passed.’

He looked like he was about to say something and thought better of it. ‘Fine,’ he snapped, ‘come on then.’

Without further ado, Byron pushed open the large doors, revealing a vast room. Smack bang in the centre was a table, with a lot of well-dressed Sidhe sitting around it. Every head twisted in our direction while I sucked in a breath. I’d thought Byron was attractive but these guys were something else. Not a single blemish marred their skin and not one hair was out of place. It felt like I was walking into the pages of Vanity Fair.

A man at the far end of the table got to his feet. The simple gold band encircling his head signified his role and I immediately spotted the family resemblance. So this was Byron’s father, the Sidhe Steward Aifric. He’d been the leader of the Clans for years. It had always seemed a rather pointless role – not just to me but to many Clan and Clan-less people. Each Clan head had his own agenda which almost never corresponded with anyone else’s.

The general consensus was that the Steward was ‘permitted’ to make small decisions of matters of bureaucratic import and that he acted as a conduit to keep the others in check. Apart from the destruction of the Adair Clan, Aifric had done well to avoid outright war between any of the Sidhe groups. It didn’t mean there wasn’t still murder; it just meant there was less murder than if someone else had been in charge. Well, whatever he did, he wasn’t my damned leader.

No doubt in deference to Aifric rather than me, the others also stood, gliding to their feet in smooth, practised movements.

Byron addressed them all. ‘Good day to you all.’ He paused for effect. ‘I would like to present Integrity…’ He paused again and shot me a quick look, ‘Taylor.’

I felt an unexpected flash of gratitude that he’d used my chosen surname instead of Adair. The Sidhe Clan heads and royalty were taken aback and several threw startled glances in Aifric’s direction. To the Steward’s credit, he didn’t blink.

‘Well done, Byron,’ he murmured.

There was a chorus of assent from around the table.

‘You did well to bring her in,’ someone commented.

I balled up my fists. Yeah, go, Golden Boy. You brought the stupid Clan-less orphan in out of the cold. Let’s not acknowledge her personally though. I pinned my mouth firmly closed. The tension of being around all these Sidhe wankers was getting to me. The last thing I needed was to snark out some comment that would put them on edge and make them hate me even more than they already did.

Aifric, dressed in a similar manner to Byron, approached me. Watch it, I projected silently. Get too close and I might bite.

He put his hands out, reaching for mine as if to clasp them. I stepped backwards and crossed my arms. I might be trying not to antagonise anyone but I wasn’t the prodigal daughter returning home. I wanted it made clear that I was there under sufferance.

Despite the intake of breath from several of the other Sidhe, Aifric barely reacted. He gave me a flicker of a smile and a nod of acknowledgment, and returned his hands to his sides.

‘It was good of you come. May I call you Integrity?’

‘You may,’ I replied formally. ‘I didn’t have much choice. I had to come.’

Aifric’s facial features might be a match for Byron but his eyes were a brilliant blue rather than an emerald green. They fixed on me with surprising kindness. ‘There is always a choice. We are glad that you are here.’

I wondered whether that was the royal ‘we’. Judging by the dark expressions on some of the other courtiers’ faces, they didn’t share the sentiment. One gaze in particular caught my attention. When I recognised it as belonging to the Bull, I almost staggered backwards. I hadn’t realised he’d risen to the position of Chieftain for the Scrymgeour Clan.

I felt the familiar feelings of inadequacy but I wasn’t eleven years old any more, I reminded myself. I could do this.

‘Explain to me exactly how this will work,’ I said, in a clear voice that was free of tremor.

‘A delegation will ride out tomorrow.’

I choked. Ride? As in horses? Shite.

Aifric didn’t notice my reaction but I was certain that Byron did. I could almost feel the amusement emanating from him.

‘It will take just over a day to reach the Foinse. It’s not an easy journey and the rural location requires old-fashioned transport. There will be two representatives from Kincaid, Moncrieffe, Darroch, as well as you. Kincaid’s key opens the path. Our key – the Moncrieffe key – opens the cavern. Darroch’s key opens the bridge and your key opens the final barrier to the box, within which the Foinse resides.’

I nodded, trying to look wise. ‘And the key looks like…?’

There was a snort from the table. I was pretty certain it came from the Bull but I couldn’t be sure. Aifric barely reacted but I could swear his shoulders stiffened. ‘The key is you. The humans call it DNA. We are less prosaic. We call it your soul.’

Oh. That made a kind of sense. ‘No problem.’

Aifric smiled benignly. ‘All you have to do is whisper your true name and the key will work. The difficult part will be getting to the Foinse. Once you’re at the site, it will be easy.’

I stared at him. A tiny furrow crossed his brow. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘The, um, true name part.’

He nodded. ‘I can understand why you’d be worried about that. No-one will hear you say it. Every representative will be respectful. You have my word.’

‘She’d better be respectful back,’ someone muttered. ‘If she learns one of the others’ true names then…’

Byron strolled over to the red-haired grumbler. He didn’t touch her or speak to her; he simply stood behind her chair. She immediately fell silent. Damn. That was some power. What exactly did he do for his father? Was he some kind of enforcer? I knew of a few Clan-less gangs that had people like that in their ranks. They didn’t tend to last very long.

I shook myself. Whatever Byron’s role, it didn’t alter the issue confronting all of us.

I cleared my throat. ‘This probably isn’t the best time to bring this up but I should mention it as it has a bearing on your plan.’

Aifric appeared confused. ‘Go on.’

‘I, er, don’t have a true name.’

You could have heard a pin drop in the room.

‘Say that again?’

I licked my lips and repeated myself. ‘I don’t have a true name. I never received one.’

It started slowly. Aifric’s cheeks flushed pink then, second by second, they grew darker until his entire face was a mottled purple. His blue eyes turned icy. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

I stepped back. It wasn’t my fault. If any of them had stopped to think about it, they’d have realised. All the same a shudder of fear ran through me. What would he do now?

Byron returned to his spot next to me. Surprisingly, he wrapped his hand round my upper arm and squeezed it reassuringly. By the look on his father’s face, however, that wasn’t going to help.

‘How can you not have your name?’ He turned to the table of astonished Sidhe, fixed on the Bull and raised his voice. ‘How can she not have her name?’

The Bull’s eyes darted around in terror and I realised for the first time that the man who was such a focus for my nightmares when I was a child was actually rather unremarkable. He was morbidly obese, which detracted slightly from his Sidhe good looks and poise, but he wasn’t the monster that I remembered. Whether age had diminished him or whether it was simply that I was no longer a child, I found that I could look at the Bull and feel nothing more than vague disdain. I was neither scared nor angry nor vengeful. I had won.

‘She was eleven years old when she ran away,’ he stammered. ‘It wasn’t my responsibility.’

‘She was your responsibility!’ Aifric thundered.

Byron’s grip round my arm tightened.

‘We agreed to leave her be,’ the Bull began.

‘Enough!’

‘If she doesn’t have her true name, then she didn’t receive her Gift,’ the moany red-haired Sidhe interjected. ‘That’s why she didn’t…’ The woman’s voice trailed away as Aifric’s icy blue gaze turned on her.

I frowned. Didn’t what?

‘Byron,’ Aifric snapped, ‘you will attend to this immediately.’

He bowed. ‘Of course.’

‘We will have to delay the journey to the Foinse.’ Aifric stroked his chin. His voice dropped. ‘When was the last time one of us waited until adulthood to receive our name?’

Silence answered him. He scowled.

‘It might make the fever worse,’ a stunning blond hulk of a man muttered.

‘It could be a week before she can travel,’ someone else agreed.

Excuse me? Fever? I crossed my arms and glared, expecting someone to explain.

Aifric shook his head in irritation. ‘Either way, we are forced to wait.’ He looked at Byron again. ‘Make the arrangements.’

A haughty-looking man with a hooked nose cleared his throat. ‘Is the Adair grove still standing?’

Several of the Sidhe exchanged nervous glances. I spotted a few shrugs and one or two head shakes.

‘Even if it’s still there,’ Aifric stated, ‘we don’t have time to travel there. We’re going to lose enough days as it is. We have no clue when the Foinse is going to give out. It might be days or it might be months but we can’t afford to wait. She can use the Cruaich grove.’

There was a collective intake of breath. ‘That’s reserved for Clan heirs,’ the ginger woman complained.

Aifric appeared unimpressed. ‘She’s the heir to the Adair Clan.’

She wanted nothing to do with the Adair Clan. I decided, however, that this was a good time to keep my mouth shut. Sometimes you learn more by listening. It wasn’t a habit I practised very often but I held my tongue ‒ at least until I had a better grasp of this situation.

‘You can’t let her in there!’ someone burst out. ‘What if she desecrates the ground?’

‘It’s sacred,’ another agreed. ‘Not for the likes of her.’

I almost laughed. It was amusing that they thought I would soil their precious grove simply by my presence. Not for the likes of me, indeed. Had I wandered into the pages of a Victorian novel?

Byron growled, ‘She’s not going to desecrate the grove. She’s here, isn’t she? She’s going to help us with the Foinse. She’s hardly some marauding brute out to destroy us all. She’s not her father.’

I was rather touched by Byron’s interjection. I noticed that he failed to mention that I was here because he’d blackmailed me. Or that I was a criminal.

‘She will use the grove here,’ Aifric boomed, his expression thunderous. ‘And I will hear no more on the matter.’ He glared at every single person. Most – but not all – dropped their eyes.

Still piqued, he sniffed loudly, gathered up his robes and swept out of the room. The remaining Sidhe looked at me and I looked at Byron. I wasn’t going to damage their damn grove. I was more concerned about myself than a bunch of old trees.

‘Fever?’

Byron looked at me with a new light in his eyes but ignored my question. ‘All those thefts. I was sure you had to have…’ He shook himself. ‘You’re more impressive than you realise.’

My earlier amusement dissipated, replaced by tingling wariness. I didn’t understand what was going on but I definitely didn’t like it.