Page 28 of Honour Bound
I watched her go. If I played this correctly, I’d have her vote to get me into the Games. Perfect. I looked at Tipsania and Byron who were both still watching me. ‘Tipsy,’ I called out cheerfully, ‘where is your father right now? I’d love to catch up with him.’
She turned away, pretending not to hear me.
‘He’s at the main tent out the front,’ Byron told me. There was a question in his eyes: why would I seek out the Bull when I’d run away from his so-called guardianship when I was a child? There was clearly no love lost between us. But Byron didn’t know everything.
I called my thanks and beckoned to my posse. ‘I need you to stay here. Sooner or later someone will show us where we can sleep. They won’t want to lose face by having us bed down here.’
‘They should have taken us there the moment we arrived,’ Brochan growled.
‘Let them play their petty games,’ I said. ‘We’ll keep our big guns for the important stuff.’
Lexie fiddled with her hair. ‘I’ve been trying to get the Sidhe onside. They’re all being very friendly but as soon as I mention your name…’
‘I know. Someone’s been spreading nasty rumours about me.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s no big deal. Much as it galls me to accept it, Aifric has promised to give me his support and if I go and talk to the Bull now, I can force him to do it too. It looks like Chieftain MacBain might just be our third supporter.’
Taylor’s chest puffed out. ‘That’s my girl.’
I grinned.
Chapter Seven
Byron was correct: the moment I stepped into the vast tent designed to keep the Games’ attendees pampered and refreshed, I spotted the Bull leaning heavily against the bar. At least it was still early, so the tent was virtually empty. No doubt it would be a different scenario tomorrow when the Games began.
Weaving my way through the empty tables and chairs – and avoiding the harassed-looking servants of every ethnicity and race who were under pressure to make everything ready – I made a beeline for him. I didn’t think he had registered my approach but he didn’t look surprised when I made my presence known.
‘Chieftain Scrymgeour,’ I said, with a hint of amusement. ‘Buy me a drink?’
The sour turn to his mouth proved how unhappy he was to see me but he couldn’t refuse. In order to save his life, he’d given me his true name and now he was mine. He couldn’t say no to me – no matter what I asked of him. He did, however, have some wiggle room.
‘I’ll have a Buckie Delight for the lady,’ he said, crooking a finger at the barman.
‘Water will…’
He held up a palm. ‘No. I think you’ll enjoy this.’ I could tell from his tone that a Buckie Delight was probably the most disgusting drink known to man. I shrugged. I could make him order me something else or brazen it out; for some stupid reason, I chose the latter.
While the barman turned away to make my drink, I focused on the Bull. If anything, he looked heavier than the last time we’d met. For someone with his wealth and position, he didn’t lead the healthiest of lifestyles.
‘You should take better care of yourself,’ I told him. ‘You look like Jabba the Hutt with a bad case of stomach flu.’
‘Who?’
I sighed. The least I could have done was find myself an unwilling slave who knew something about popular science fiction. ‘Never mind.’ I propped an elbow onto the bar and rested my chin on my hand. ‘How’s your Gift doing these days?’ I asked.
Suddenly his face was wide and fearful. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ he growled. I’d asked the question though, so he couldn’t evade it that easily. ‘It is … diminished,’ he said through gritted teeth.
I sucked in a breath. So it was true. My subconscious was stealing Gifts, whether I wanted it to or not. I absorbed the information, my mind whirring through the possibilities.
Malevolence glittered from his dark eyes. ‘It’s because you stole my name from me.’
No, it wasn’t but he didn’t need to know that. ‘So it’s been like that since our escapade through the air?’ I prodded. ‘Your Gift lost its power and it’s not returned?’
He glared at me. ‘No. It’s not. I can still see auras but they’re weaker than before.’
Interesting. I wished he’d thought to mention that to me before. I could only conclude that I’d unconsciously stolen part of his Gift and, while whatever magical pizzazz it imbued me with had gone from my system, it had not returned to him. The idea that I could strip all those proud Sidhe of their Gifts was exciting. I tried – and failed – not to appear too happy.
He put down his drink. ‘What do you want? Are you just here to gloat?’
‘No,’ I said cheerily. ‘I got hold of some anti-gloating cream to stop me doing that.’ I paused. ‘Although it is very tempting to rub it in.’ The Bull stared at me. ‘Oh, come on, you have to admit that was at least a little bit funny.’
