A man at the far end of the table got to his feet. The simple gold band encircling his head signified his role and I immediately spotted the family resemblance. So this was Byron’s father, the Sidhe Steward Aifric. He’d been the leader of the Clans for years. It had always seemed a rather pointless role – not just to me but to many Clan and Clan-less people. Each Clan head had his own agenda which almost never corresponded with anyone else’s.

The general consensus was that the Steward was ‘permitted’ to make small decisions of matters of bureaucratic import and that he acted as a conduit to keep the others in check. Apart from the destruction of the Adair Clan, Aifric had done well to avoid outright war between any of the Sidhe groups. It didn’t mean there wasn’t still murder; it just meant there was less murder than if someone else had been in charge. Well, whatever he did, he wasn’t my damned leader.

No doubt in deference to Aifric rather than me, the others also stood, gliding to their feet in smooth, practised movements.

Byron addressed them all. ‘Good day to you all.’ He paused for effect. ‘I would like to present Integrity…’ He paused again and shot me a quick look, ‘Taylor.’

I felt an unexpected flash of gratitude that he’d used my chosen surname instead of Adair. The Sidhe Clan heads and royalty were taken aback and several threw startled glances in Aifric’s direction. To the Steward’s credit, he didn’t blink.

‘Well done, Byron,’ he murmured.

There was a chorus of assent from around the table.

‘You did well to bring her in,’ someone commented.

I balled up my fists. Yeah, go, Golden Boy. You brought the stupid Clan-less orphan in out of the cold. Let’s not acknowledge her personally though. I pinned my mouth firmly closed. The tension of being around all these Sidhe wankers was getting to me. The last thing I needed was to snark out some comment that would put them on edge and make them hate me even more than they already did.

Aifric, dressed in a similar manner to Byron, approached me. Watch it, I projected silently. Get too close and I might bite.

He put his hands out, reaching for mine as if to clasp them. I stepped backwards and crossed my arms. I might be trying not to antagonise anyone but I wasn’t the prodigal daughter returning home. I wanted it made clear that I was there under sufferance.

Despite the intake of breath from several of the other Sidhe, Aifric barely reacted. He gave me a flicker of a smile and a nod of acknowledgment, and returned his hands to his sides.

‘It was good of you come. May I call you Integrity?’

‘You may,’ I replied formally. ‘I didn’t have much choice. I had to come.’