‘It’s just one event,’ I reminded him. ‘And I have faith in Bob.’

They exchanged looks. ‘It might not matter,’ Speck said.

I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

He shuffled his feet. ‘We were right to wonder about the judges,’ he said. ‘I cloned one of their phones.’

‘And?’ I asked warily

‘And the Carnegies are under orders to place you last no matter what you do.’

My spine stiffened. ‘Orders from whom?’

‘Moncrieffe,’ Speck mumbled.

A dark hole opened in my chest. ‘Byron?’

‘Aifric.’

I balled my hands into tight fists. Shite. Despite my conversation with him about how I wanted to win so I could ask for permission to join the Bull’s Clan, Aifric wasn’t taking any chances. He obviously didn’t trust me any more than I trusted him. I gritted my teeth and tried to think. ‘This could be a good thing,’ I said finally.

‘I fail to see how,’ Brochan rumbled.

‘If he’s contacting the Carnegies without disguising his tracks, he’s being open about how he feels about me. We can use that.’

‘You have a plan?’ Lexie asked eagerly.

‘No.’ I chewed on the inside of my cheek. ‘Yes.’ I glanced at Speck. ‘How did he contact them? Was it a call?’

He shook his head. ‘Text.’

I snapped my fingers. ‘So you cloned his phone. Text the Carnegies back and say you – he has changed his mind.’

‘We can do that,’ he answered, ‘but then we’re showing our hand as much as Aifric is. Right now, he thinks that you believe him. When he discovers otherwise, things could change drastically.’ He paused. ‘As in more assassination attempts.’

‘Or,’ Lexie added darkly, ‘successes.’

‘That’s a good point,’ I said. I pressed my lips together. ‘Okay. Make that a last resort. As far as I know, the Carnegies aren’t particularly close to the Moncrieffes. All we have to do is to encourage them to ignore that order.’

‘They might not like Aifric Moncrieffe but he’s still the Steward. They won’t want to piss him off or they’ll receive the fallout themselves.’

‘Then,’ I said, ‘we’ll have to be bloody careful.’ I grinned suddenly. ‘I have just the thing.’ I looked around the room, my eyes alighting on a table laden with scones and sandwiches. ‘Watch this space.’

I strode over to it and leapt up. My heel landed smack bang in a large chocolate cake, sending ganache flying in all directions. ‘Oops,’ I said to the wide-eyed Sidhe who gaped at me from below. ‘Is that a cake or a meringue?’ I frowned. ‘No, I was right. It’s definitely cake.’ I winked. ‘I guess you have to be a real Scot to get that joke. Am ah wrang?’ I asked, deepening my accent.

‘Integrity, what on earth are you doing?’ Byron strode over, his brow furrowed.

A couple of Sidhe nudged each other. ‘Told you she was as mad as the MacQuarries,’ one of them said.

My foot slipped, inadvertently sending a gloop of chocolate towards her. It landed on her cheek and she shrieked.