Page 40 of Honour Bound
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. ‘Whatdoyou 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.
