The Carnegie lordling moved towards me and gestured irritably. I ignored him, scanned the crowd and looked for my friends. When I finally caught sight of them at the back, jumping up and down, I relaxed. I waved at them and received a ragged cheer from several others in return.

‘Hurry up!’ the lordling hissed.

Of course, I didn’t do that at all. I took my time, treating the audience as if they were my biggest fans. Fake it till you make it. The many blank faces only made my curtseys, waves and bows more energetic. I was tempted to make good on my threat of telekinesis but I thought better of it and moved across to the other competitors with a buoyant hop, skip and jump. Byron raised his eyebrows. I grinned at him, wondering if he was as good an actor as his father. Then I turned and took my seat.

Tipsania, positioned in the back row which was reserved for the top seeds, leaned forward. ‘Anyone would think you’d already won with the way you’re carrying on. You poor child.’

Considering she was about five months older than me, that was some endearment. I smirked at her. ‘You don’t understand, do you? For me, that was the hardest part. From here on in, you won’t even see my dust.’

She let out a tinkling, derisive laugh. ‘Oh my dear, you’re so entertaining sometimes.’

My eyes gleamed. ‘I suppose I am somewhat on the…’ I paused, ‘wild side.’

Her jaw tightened a fraction. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I wouldn’t have spotted it. Buggering hell. Did all these Sidhe spend years learning how to act? I thought I was pretty skilled, and manipulation and con artistry were tools for my trade, but I was starting to think I had nothing on this lot.

Chapter Ten

As organisers of the Games, the Carnegies put on quite a show. Once the formalities were over, the field exploded into a riot of colour. Young women danced on with streaming ribbons billowing out behind them. In perfect formation, they arranged themselves into different shapes, ranging from a bank of thistles to two battling figures. The lone piper, who’d been responsible for the ear-bleeding Clan anthems, was joined by a large band. I was amused to see that the bass drummer was a tiny Seonaidh, a water sprite who was dwarfed by the gigantic drum he held in front of his belly. He was out of his depth in more ways than one.

As the dancers and pipers marched off, a tall Carnegie Sidhe woman strode out. The competitors around me, most of whom had pasted on expressions of utter boredom, leaned forward and there was a buzz in the audience. I had no idea who she was or what she was about to do, but I bet it would be impressive.