‘On the wall behind you, there’s a thermostat. It controls the temperature of this room so it’s never too cold or too hot. It’s really an extraordinary feat of technology when you think about it.’

I was going to get a lesson on thermodynamics now, was I? I resisted the urge to look round. ‘And?’ I asked, sounding as bored as I could.

‘The Sidhe lands run on a similar concept except instead of temperature control, what we concern ourselves with is magic. Too little magic and systems start to fail. Too much magic and, well, kaboom. It’s not pretty when that happens.’ His mouth tightened and his eyes were momentarily distant and unfocused. ‘The tidal surge down the Dee a couple of years ago? That was one of those occasions.’

I might have known. Hundreds of people died. Not Sidhe people though, of course. Poor people. Underclass people. My people. ‘So the Clans are destructive and murderous as well as power hungry.’

His chin tipped up and I spotted a sudden flash of anger. ‘A lot of my friends risked their lives that day to hold back the water.’

‘Well they didn’t do a very good job, did they?’

The way Byron’s body tensed, I wondered whether he was about to punch me in the nose for that comment. I rather hoped he would. It would release some of the tension both of us were feeling.

‘It might not have been broadcast in your neck of the woods, but Sidhe died too.’

I did what I could to ignore his haunted expression. ‘My heart bleeds. Get to the point,’ I snapped.

Byron straightened his shoulders. His green eyed gaze held mine until I felt trapped. ‘Long ago, checks and balances were put into place to prevent any one Clan from gaining an overly advantageous hold on the flow of magic. The four strongest Clans were each granted a key, if you like, to the Foinse. Unless all four keys were used at once then the Foinse couldn’t be touched.’

‘Foinse meaning…’

He gave me a strange look. I was pretty certain it was along the lines of ‘you’re an absolute idiot for not already knowing this’. It was hardly my fault old Bull hadn’t permitted me an education. And Sidhe lore wasn’t exactly a concern of Taylor’s. ‘Source,’ he said finally. ‘The Foinse is the source of all Scottish magic. And it’s failing.’

I could feel the corner of my mouth twitch in an uncontrollable spasm. It wasn’t a particularly funny situation but it was still difficult not to laugh. Even I had enough scanty knowledge of Clan hierarchy to work out what was wrong. Things might have changed in the last two or three decades but, before then, the top Clans had remained the same for five hundred years.