I heard doors swing open and I was made to shuffle forward. There were several intakes of breath and low whispers. As yet, it appeared that no one knew my real identity.

‘Who is that?’ someone near me asked, as I fumbled ahead.

‘None of the MacQuarries are here,’ somebody else murmured. ‘Do you think…?’

The voices fell away as I was told to stop and turn around. This wasn’t the time to act up so I did as I was told, keeping my head bowed. My best shot right now seemed to be to act like an innocent, demure young woman. Maybe that way some of the more traditionally minded Sidhe would feel sympathy and veer to my side. You never knew.

There was movement beside me. I took a deep breath. ‘Tonight, Matthew,’ I intoned, ‘I’m going to be…’ I paused and the hood was whipped off my head. ‘…Integrity Adair.’

I was standing next to the altar of a church while a sea of wide-eyed, shocked faces stared at me. For a moment, I wished I still had my phone with me; a snapshot of this would win every photo competition hands down. Just about all the Sidhe I’d ever met was here – and a whole bunch of others whom I didn’t recognise. Obviously the MacQuarries were absent and I couldn’t spot Tipsania or Byron, but everyone else was here. And it was so quiet that I was sure that if I concentrated, I’d hear the hair standing up on the neck of the hirsute Fairlie Sidhe seated just in front of me.

Slack-jawed, Dorienne Darroch got to her feet then she sat down. Then she stood up again. She shook her head in amazement. I looked away from her and scanned the room. There were very few people here who seemed happy to see that I wasn’t dead.

The Ochterlony Chieftain pointed a bony finger at Aifric. That was interesting. My mother was from that Clan, although she wasn’t highly placed. They’d never made friendly overtures towards me but we were kin. ‘You said she was dead.’

‘Yes.’ Aifric’s expression was grave. ‘She faked her own death. Unfortunately that’s the least serious of her crimes.’

Wanker. I opened my mouth to argue but no words came out. It wasn’t that I’d lost my voice, I’d forgotten how to speak. I couldn’t make a sound. With narrowed eyes, I looked at Aifric. Yeah. There was a glint behind his sombre mask. On his orders, some bastard was doing something to prevent me from talking. I had to work out who.

‘Unbelievable.’ The Ochterlony Chieftain shook his head and sat down again. If I hadn’t been sure about his feelings towards me before, I got an inclination now from his moue of distaste as he flicked his hands at me.

Malcolm Kincaid rose smoothly to his feet. I didn’t need to wonder about his allegiance ‒ I knew that he hated me. He also appeared less surprised at my resurrection than the others. Uh-oh. ‘Well, this is a shock,’ he said, his voice carrying across the congregation. ‘I’ll be very interested to hear what Miss Adair has to say for herself.’