I stiffened. Shite. She must have recognised me. I tensed, ready for action. Run or hide?

‘I suppose,’ she continued, ‘they’re going to be consigned to history now.’

I almost snorted, despite my panic. Aifric controlled history like everything else. I’d seen what was missing from the library with my own eyes; he had effectively rubbed out the Adair Clan’s existence. Until I came along.

‘Still,’ she said, as if reading my thoughts, ‘the Steward knows best.’ She paused. ‘And what’s your name? Are you Clan Moncrieffe?’

I licked my dry lips, trying to find my voice. ‘You don’t know?’

‘No,’ she replied pleasantly as my veins buzzed with the truth of her answer. Her comment about the Adairs was nothing more than coincidence. I almost sagged to the floor in a puddle of relief. She glanced at me curiously as I angled my face away. ‘Have we met?’

I opened my mouth to answer but fortunately I was interrupted by someone calling to her from across the room. She turned, her arm brushing against my body and her Gift – whatever it was – immediately spoke to me. Like a pickpocket with invisible hands, I responded.

I gasped faintly while she stalled and pressed her hand to her forehead. ‘Goodness,’ she said, ‘I suddenly feel rather light-headed. Do excuse me. I think I’d better sit down.’ She walked away with small, uncertain steps, leaving me and the painting alone.

Bob whistled in my ear. ‘That was close, Uh Integrity.’

Yeah. It really had been. I reminded myself of everything I’d learnt while growing up with Taylor. People saw what they were expecting to see – and she wasn’t expecting to see Integrity Adair because Integrity was dead. Therefore she saw a stranger rather than me. I’d do well to remember that.

I turned slowly. If I could steal that woman’s Gift in plain view of everyone else then I could certainly steal more. Buoyed up, I got to work.

I avoided the elderly male Sidhe crossing my path, unsure what stealing from someone so advanced in age might do, and picked on a simpering man who was giving detailed instructions to a servant. ‘I want a glass of water,’ he ordered. ‘Room temperature, no ice. A slice of lemon cut diagonally and placed on the rim so that…’

I closed my eyes momentarily and snatched a fistful of his magic. He staggered as I turned away.

Wandering in from a nearby door were three giggling girls. ‘Did you see her face?’ the middle one cackled.

I stole from her first, pulling at the threads of her magic and drawing them into me. When she froze mid-step and her two companions stopped to check on her, I stole from them too.

My soul stretched and settled, as if altering itself to accommodate the new Gifts. I had to be careful not to overdo it – I’d already made that mistake once before and too much magic could finish me. As long as I took small amounts from each person, however, I didn’t think I’d be over-burdened and they would recover quickly from my actions.