Page 41 of Honour Bound
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.
‘Clan MacQuarrie.’
I took a half-step backwards. The MacQuarrie Chieftain twinkled down at me. ‘For Lily,’ he mouthed.
I was taken aback; I thought they’d blamed me for Lily’s death. After all, I did show up at their gates with her corpse in my arms. I was going to gain admission to the Games after all. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. No. Way.
Aifric looked at me. He remained sitting, but there was no mistaking the overdone sorrow in his expression. My eyes narrowed. I knew he was a murdering bastard but he’d promised publicly to support me. It appeared, however, that I couldn’t count on honour from him. I drew in a shaky breath. To have come this close and have the opportunity snatched away at the last moment … talk about a rollercoaster.
‘Clan Polwarth.’
There was a flash of darkness from Aifric. I was dumbfounded – I wasn’t even sure who the Polwarth Chieftain was. I searched the stand, finally alighting on the rake-thin figure of the Sidhe who was standing up. Of everyone, he was dressed appropriately for the weather with an animal skin draped round his shoulders. I spotted the glint of an old carabineer at his belt and understood. Isla, my mate from mountain rescue: she wasn’t a Sidhe, but clearly her role in mountain rescue meant something. The man who’d given his support flashed me a smile and sat down again.
‘Clan Adair has the requisite three votes and is permitted to compete.’
I lifted my eyes and looked at Aifric. He was probably as surprised as I was. The sorrow on his face had been replaced by a beaming grin and he clapped loudly. I curtsied and wished him dead, before remembering that I was a pacifist and I shouldn’t ever wish for someone to die. Not with Bob clinging to my neck or this weird Gift knocking around in my blood.
The Carnegie lordling moved towards me and gestured irritably. I ignored him, scanned the crowd and looked for my friends. When I finally caught sight of them at the back, jumping up and down, I relaxed. I waved at them and received a ragged cheer from several others in return.
‘Hurry up!’ the lordling hissed.
Of course, I didn’t do that at all. I took my time, treating the audience as if they were my biggest fans. Fake it till you make it. The many blank faces only made my curtseys, waves and bows more energetic. I was tempted to make good on my threat of telekinesis but I thought better of it and moved across to the other competitors with a buoyant hop, skip and jump. Byron raised his eyebrows. I grinned at him, wondering if he was as good an actor as his father. Then I turned and took my seat.
Tipsania, positioned in the back row which was reserved for the top seeds, leaned forward. ‘Anyone would think you’d already won with the way you’re carrying on. You poor child.’
Considering she was about five months older than me, that was some endearment. I smirked at her. ‘You don’t understand, do you? For me, that was the hardest part. From here on in, you won’t even see my dust.’
She let out a tinkling, derisive laugh. ‘Oh my dear, you’re so entertaining sometimes.’
My eyes gleamed. ‘I suppose I am somewhat on the…’ I paused, ‘wildside.’
Her jaw tightened a fraction. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I wouldn’t have spotted it. Buggering hell. Did all these Sidhe spend years learning how to act? I thought I was pretty skilled, and manipulation and con artistry were tools for my trade, but I was starting to think I had nothing on this lot.
Chapter Ten
As organisers of the Games, the Carnegies put on quite a show. Once the formalities were over, the field exploded into a riot of colour. Young women danced on with streaming ribbons billowing out behind them. In perfect formation, they arranged themselves into different shapes, ranging from a bank of thistles to two battling figures. The lone piper, who’d been responsible for the ear-bleeding Clan anthems, was joined by a large band. I was amused to see that the bass drummer was a tiny Seonaidh, a water sprite who was dwarfed by the gigantic drum he held in front of his belly. He was out of his depth in more ways than one.
As the dancers and pipers marched off, a tall Carnegie Sidhe woman strode out. The competitors around me, most of whom had pasted on expressions of utter boredom, leaned forward and there was a buzz in the audience. I had no idea who she was or what she was about to do, but I bet it would be impressive.
