Page 51 of Honour Bound
I’d had enough of this. Using Byron’s Gift once more, I focused on the snow pile I’d just created. It swirled upwards, forming a whirling barricade between me and my assailants. I could just make out their flailing arms and hear their shouts of irritation. It wasn’t quite what I wanted, though. My brow furrowed and I drew in more snow from the surrounding embankments. It solidified into chunks, combining and coalescing. I lifted up my index finger and spun it round. The snowflakes bound together, forming bricks which I piled higher and higher around the three idiots. Their vision was so obscured that they didn’t realise what I was doing until it was too late and they were trapped by my snow tower.
I stepped over and prodded the outer edge. It might look like snow but it was as hard as the ice upon which Pike had slipped. Unless one of them had a match, a lighter or pyrokinesis, they’d be trapped there for some time.
‘You bitch!’ I heard Pike yell. ‘I’m supposed to be backstage getting ready! If I’m late, they won’t let me participate.’
He should have thought of that before he tried to attack me. I bent down to pick up the harp and turned my back, ignoring their shouts. I had to go; I didn’t want to miss Byron’s performance, after all.
*
When I finally arrived at the auditorium, a sniffy Carnegie official tried to make me leave the harp in a side room with the other Sidhe instruments. I shook my head and pushed past him. Fortunately for him, he didn’t try to stop me. I really wasn’t in the mood.
I stomped in, still fuming. When I caught sight of the stage and the vast crowd seated in front of it, however, I forgot my annoyance. This was something else.
The stage was huge, with varnished oak underfoot and hundreds of lights trained on its centre. There was a raised dais to one side with a lectern, which was no doubt reserved for the Carnegie officials, and heavy red velvet curtains on either side. There were hundreds of seats in a gentle arc around the stage area. The self-styled important Clans were at the front, with Aifric sitting dead centre.
I avoided looking at him in case I drew his attention. Instead my gaze swooped round. Although the other competitors who wouldn’t be performing until the next day like me were visible, the majority of the spectators were other Sidhe proudly displaying their Clan colours. Some had made banners – and not all of their messages were positive. At least there was no confusion over who hated whom and which Clans possessed strong affiliations. I committed as many of them to memory as I could; Clan politics could turn on a dime but it wouldn’t hurt to know which Clans were working together right now. Every scrap of information was potentially useful.
I spotted the Polwarth Chieftain, made a show of turning towards him and bowing and noted the murmur as several other Clans took note of what I was doing. By acknowledging him first, I was giving Clan Polwarth superiority over Clan Adair. Not only would the Chieftain appreciate that I wasn’t going to forget his support during the opening ceremony, it might make him amenable to further approaches later on. I already had enough enemies; it was time to start making allies. I didn’t bow towards the Bull, though – I just winked at him and he glared in return. Ha! Let those nosy spectators make of that what they wanted. Although, in the evil-looks category, the Bull had nothing on Chieftain MacBain.
‘It would be wise to avoid antagonising the MacBains,’ a voice murmured in my ear.
I turned and recognised Angus MacQuarrie. ‘Believe me,’ I said honestly, ‘I’m not trying to do that.’
‘She can be … touchy,’ he told me. ‘But she does have many fingers in many pies. It would be good for you if that necklace showed up.’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘So you also think I stole it?’
‘Actually, no.’ He leaned forward. ‘But I reckon if you tried hard enough you could get it back. I’ve heard you have a knack for doing such things.’
I scanned his face, wondering what he was getting at, but his face was innocent. ‘I have some skills,’ I said slowly.
Angus grinned. ‘When you have some free time, my Chieftain would like a word.’
‘I’m free now. I will meet with Chieftain MacQuarrie whenever he requires.’ I meant it; I owed him a considerable amount for his support. Not to mention what had happened with Lily.
‘He’s not here,’ Angus said. ‘He doesn’t like the Games much so he’s only going to show up when it’s absolutely necessary.’
My eyebrows shot up. ‘Why doesn’t he like the Games?’
Angus shrugged. ‘He sees them as yet another opportunity for the more powerful Clans to show off.’
‘But surely anyone can win?’
‘He reckons they’re rigged.’
I wasn’t surprised. And if Angus hoped to dismay me, then he was going to be disappointed. I’d lived most of my life as Clan-less and I was used to having to cheat, cajole, steal and manipulate. If anything, the MacQuarrie suspicions warmed my heart. Honour was just a pain in the arse: it was nebulous and, as Aifric kept proving, far too easy to set aside. Honest underhandedness was much more straightforward.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘Chieftain MacQuarrie is welcome to come by our cabin any time. Just knock first.’
Amusement flickered in Angus’s face. ‘In case you’re not decent?’
I thought of Bob’s Brunei-borrowed opulence and grinned back. ‘Something like that.’
He gave a friendly farewell as I caught sight of my friends. I went to join them, sat next to Brochan and handed him the covered harp. He glowered at me. ‘What happened to your cheek?’
Puzzled, I raised my fingers to touch it. They came away wet, with a smudge of blood on their tips. ‘Let’s just say that people have been throwing money at me.’
The merman looked annoyed but Taylor watched me for a moment before smiling slightly. ‘Good for you.’
