I sighed. ‘I think we might be too late. Let’s go and get ourselves thrown out of the Games. At least the masses will be entertained.’

Chapter Nine

The opening ceremony was taking place at an open field near the main tent where I’d found the Bull the previous day. The field was surrounded by a grandstand and the sounds of the thronging crowds proved what a big deal these Games were. Considering the prize, it wasn’t surprising they were held so infrequently but it was a shame this seemed to be the only time that Clan differences were set aside. Then I spotted a Fairlie Sidhe being deliberately jostled by a small group of Dundas Clanlings. Whatever camaraderie existed yesterday had already vanished; the serious business of winning was in the air.

The competitors were crowded into a small area, waiting for their grand entrance to the showground and making a great show of admiring each other’s costumes. As I walked up with my team behind me, there were nudges and hushed whispers. Obviously the news about my ‘crime’ had spread quickly and I wondered if news of my exoneration had been transmitted with the same speed. Judging by the dirty looks, it didn’t appear so.

I glanced down at my jeans and warm jumper, wishing I’d had time to change into something more appropriate. I might not have a gown to match Tipsania’s but I looked like I’d not made any effort at all. Not everyone was wearing evening wear, of course; I spotted all-in-one jumpsuits made of Clan tartans, traditional kilts and even a top hat and tails.

I couldn’t stop my eyes drifting towards Byron, who was lingering at the front of the crowd with Tipsania. Thanks to her massive skirts, there was quite a gap around them. He looked damn good in his kilt.

He didn’t even glance in my direction. I wondered whether he was too embarrassed to claim a friendship – of sorts – with a dirty rotten thief like me. The thought stung more than I would have liked.

Fortunately, Lexie had a scarf in the new Adair tartan which she pulled off her shoulders and looped round my neck. It was better than nothing. I untied my hair, shaking it out and letting it fall down my back. Yes, it was white, just like my father’s had been; I wasn’t going to hide my heritage.

‘That’s it,’ Taylor nodded. ‘Don’t let these bastards make you feel anything less than you are.’

‘Was I being that obvious?’

He squeezed my arm. ‘I know you pretty well.’

I tried to smile as an elderly Sidhe official in Carnegie colours cleared his throat and began to speak. ‘Competitors will enter with their individual Clans, parade past the grandstand and halt in front of the royal box where their participation will be verified. Remember, it takes three Clans to validate entry.’