‘Nice work,’ Taylor said approvingly.

I kept my expression serious but he’d noted the gleam of satisfaction in my eye. ‘It was worth giving up that advantage to get a fair hearing from the judges,’ I said. ‘And it might make everyone feel a bit less antagonistic towards me. Goodness knows, I mentioned honour often enough.’

‘I might have clapped but I don’t really understand what’s going on,’ Lexie whispered.

Brochan leaned over to her. ‘Tegs just positioned herself as the most honourable person in the room. She gave away vital information that would have helped her win the challenge. If the harp does what Bob says it will, those judges won’t get away with giving her a low score. Integrity has made too big a deal out of being a proud Sidhe who’s brimming with uprightness. If they act maliciously, everyone will know it. And because of this little speech, everyone will pay attention.’

Speck smirked. ‘Integrity has integrity.’

I grinned. ‘Not really. But Integrity is prepared to look as if she has to manipulate the hell out of this lot.’

‘Amen,’ Taylor murmured. ‘Amen.’

*

The following day, my confidence was less obvious. As I was the last competitor to go on the stage, I was alone in the waiting room behind the wings. Alone apart from Bob, of course.

‘Uh Integrity,’ he said frowning, ‘couldn’t you have dressed up for the occasion?’

I glanced down at my outfit. ‘What do you mean? I’m wearing the Adair tartan.’ I twirled round; I’d fashioned a length of it into a skirt which I thought looked rather fetching.

‘No,’ he tutted. ‘Pink is not your colour.’

I glared at him. ‘Pink is exactly my colour. It matches my eyes.’

‘I hate to break it to you but just because your hair is white does not mean you are an albino. Your eyes are not pink.’

‘They’re violet,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘It’s the same colour-family as pink. And this is coming from the genie who was wearing a cocktail dress and a feather boa not too long ago?’

He winked at me. ‘And don’t you wish you had my style?’

I rolled my eyes and turned to more serious matters. ‘Is this going to work?’ I asked him, hefting the harp in my arms. ‘I’ve taken you at your word and told the others that I trust you but…’

‘But?’ he shrieked. ‘But? If you trust me, then there is no but!’

‘I’m just checking. It’s not as if I know how to play a buggering harp.’

Bob puffed up his chest. ‘There are strings,’ he told me self-importantly. ‘You take your finger – any of them will do – and you pluck one string.’

‘Which string?’

‘C sharp.’

I gazed at him in panic. ‘Which one is C sharp?’

He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a flash of light, just as the door opened and a dark figure ushered me forward. Crapadoodle. My stomach was churning and I was certain that the piece of stale bread I’d munched on for breakfast was about to come back up again. That would make an interesting display for the audience, I thought sourly, as I walked down the long corridor.