‘A lot’s changed. Byron is with us now. That bodes well for the future.’

Brochan shook his massive head from side to side. ‘I told you not to mention this.’

I glared at them. ‘So you’ve been discussing this while I was away? Behind my back?’

‘Stop being so testy. It’s a reasonable conversation to have. You wouldn’t have to have anything to do with it. One of us could manage it for you.’ Taylor finally looked at me directly. ‘We need to keep you safe, Tegs. Having this temporary reprieve has made us all realise just how good life could be here when we don’t have to keep looking over our shoulders.’

‘No. And if any of you try anything like that, we’re done. I don’t care how good your intentions are, I won’t have it. We are better than that.’ I paused. ‘Is that clear?’ Everyone nodded. I tried again. ‘I said, is that clear?’

This time I received a chorus of replies. ‘Yes, Tegs.’

‘You do still have one wish left,’ Bob began.

I pointed at him. ‘Zip it.’

Lexie raised her hand tentatively. ‘Are you angry now?’

I exhaled. ‘No. I understand where you’re coming from. And you don’t have to put up your hand to speak, Lex.’

‘Are you sure you’re not angry?’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘If you want I’ll tell you all a joke to prove just how un-angry I am.’

Taylor stood up and backed away. ‘There’s no need for that.’

Sorley, who’d been sitting silently in the corner and gnawing impressively on a yellowing toenail, glanced up. ‘I’d like a joke.’ Everyone groaned loudly and hushed him. He shrugged his wide shoulders then he seemed to squeak.

Lexie tilted her head, confused. ‘Did your bones just cheep?’

His eyebrows snapped together. ‘I’m not cheap! I swore fealty. I don’t require financial remuneration because my kind is too honourable to stoop to mere monetary rewards.’

‘No, I meant cheep. Like a bird.’

‘No, you blasted pixie! I’m a damned troll.’ There was a momentary pause before there was another squeak.

Lexie stared round at us all. ‘I’m not the only one who heard that, right?’

‘Sorley,’ I asked, ‘are you carrying around a haggis?’

‘What?’ He got to his feet, his face the picture of outrage. ‘Why would I carry one of those vermin around with me? It’s bad enough that they get into everything and chomp on all my equipment. I wouldn’t want to touch one.’ His loose-fitting shirt bulged; poking its way up from the collar was the tiny questing nose of a haggis. Sorley whipped round and fumbled with his shirt.

‘If you want the trolls to sort out this mess then we can,’ he bellowed, trying to disguise what was now a series of high-pitched haggis complaints. ‘We can muster within the hour and march on the Cruaich.’

‘This isn’t your fight.’

He turned round, the haggis no longer in sight. ‘It’s Clan Adair’s fight and we are Clan Adair,’ he said stiffly.