There were a lot of grumbles and hissed complaints. A lot of people were extremely annoyed and I didn’t blame them. If these Games were all about the honour of competing against your peers, a lot of Sidhe had effectively been tossed into disrepute.

The Carnegie official was oblivious. ‘Unless you are the sole Clan representative, you must leave the area,’ he said, without a trace of emotion.

I shook my head. They just didn’t get it. They harped on and on about honour and how important it was, and in the next breath they made it clear that unless you were in with a chance of winning, you might as well not participate. I was surprised that they didn’t chuck out everyone apart from me, Tipsania and Byron but perhaps that would be step too far even for this lot.

The discarded competitors filed out. When Jamie passed me, he raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Good luck.’

That was nice of him. Obviously, Byron hadn’t shared his insights about me with the rest of his Clan. Unfortunately Jamie’s friendly overtures were followed by one of the Scrymgeour competitors hissing something about wanting to see my entrails pulled out.

When the tent was empty, and there were only twenty-five of us left, the Carnegie Sidhe spoke again. ‘There are only three competitors whose accrued points put them in a position to win. If the rest of you want to drop out, go ahead. This is a short challenge and it won’t be long before we have our winner.’ No one moved. He shrugged as if we were all idiots and continued. ‘You will each take a number from this bag. The number you take corresponds to your assigned door. When the klaxon sounds, you will go through it. Your goal is to find the red button and push it.’ He stared at us. ‘Simple, really.’

‘I doubt that,’ Angus whispered. ‘We know there’s going to be one giant spider to contend with at least.’

And then some. I took my place in the queue, eventually pulling out a small plastic disk with the number thirteen etched onto it. Unlucky for some. We arranged ourselves in numerical order and I was none too pleased to see that Tipsania had drawn number fourteen. As we filed out onto the field, she trod on my heel. ‘Oops,’ she simpered. ‘Sorry.’

I turned to look at her. ‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked her. ‘Why are you being a bully?’

She snarled, ‘Your very existence is an affront to all that the Sidhe stand for.’ Her words dripped with vile condescension but, for the first time, I saw something behind her eyes that suggested she lacked conviction. Or maybe I was just softening towards her.

We heard the roar of the crowd long before we saw them. The grandstand was filled to capacity. There were a lot of makeshift placards proclaiming support for the competitors and I was shocked to see a few Sidhe from other Clans holding signs up for me. That was unexpected – and probably dangerous for them. Maybe people liked to show that they’d backed the winner; my odds, which had been three hundred to one before the Artistry challenge, now placed me as favourite. I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that my efforts were being acknowledged or to worry about the target that was now placed on my back.