Nope, not everything. My blood was still fizzing with Morna’s magic, not to mention the rest that was swirling around my system. If I could get Aifric out of the way, I could steal his. I just had to work out how to do it without his goons shooting everyone first.

‘Steward!’ the MacQuarrie Chieftain bellowed. ‘This is outrageous! You cannot come here and do this. You will answer for your crimes!’

The three gun-toting goons raised their weapons once more. With my heart in my mouth, I yelled, ‘No!’

Aifric was amused. ‘There’s no denying that you have some moves, Chieftain, but I don’t think you can dodge bullets. What’s to stop me from killing everyone right here, right now?’

Morals? Decency? A shred of empathy? None of those was worth mentioning to him. However, the fact that we were still talking and not yet bleeding suggested that Aifric did indeed have something else up his rotten sleeves.

I regarded him calmly. ‘What is it that you want?’

His smile grew. ‘Oh, there are so many things that I want.’ He was determined to eke out this moment.

The bastard was enjoying every minute of this. Well, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of looking frightened. I pasted on a bored expression and examined my fingernails. ‘Try me,’ I drawled.

His mouth twitched and I realised that my nonchalance was irritating him. Good. ‘You come with me. You will answer for your crimes.’

‘My crimes?’ Was he for real?

‘You have been a naughty, naughty girl.’ His nostrils flared. ‘I have a little gathering planned. My son and heir is getting married on the Isle of Muck in a matter of days.’ He looked at Tipsania coyly and she all but snarled in response. ‘Everyone who’s anyone will be there. And not just Sidhe.’ Aifric licked his lips. ‘I’ve made sure of that.’ He cracked his fingers. ‘You see, you were becoming a folk hero. The young orphan who battled against the evil Sidhe empire and who tragically lost her life in the process. People are talking about you on the streets. There are gatherings using your name to galvanise the sheep into action against us. I can’t have that.’ He made a moue of disgust.

‘You can’t control everyone,’ I told him flatly. ‘You’re not the respected leader you think you are.’

Aifric laughed. ‘Do you think I care about respect? I’m not a school teacher. I’m delivering this country from evil. I’m Scotland’s saviour.’

I stared at him. He was telling the truth; he really believed that about himself. Maybe he wasn’t just psychotic, maybe he was plain insane.

Aifric stepped towards me. ‘Right now you’re a martyr. The world will think differently – the Highlands will know differently – after I tell them the truth. Instead of being the figurehead that encouraged a bloody coup, you’ll be the most reviled name in history. I’ll make sure of it. People will soon know who the true hero is.’