‘It was good of you come. May I call you Integrity?’
‘You may,’ I replied formally. ‘I didn’t have much choice. I had to come.’
Aifric’s facial features might be a match for Byron but his eyes were a brilliant blue rather than an emerald green. They fixed on me with surprising kindness. ‘There is always a choice. We are glad that you are here.’
I wondered whether that was the royal ‘we’. Judging by the dark expressions on some of the other courtiers’ faces, they didn’t share the sentiment. One gaze in particular caught my attention. When I recognised it as belonging to the Bull, I almost staggered backwards. I hadn’t realised he’d risen to the position of Chieftain for the Scrymgeour Clan.
I felt the familiar feelings of inadequacy but I wasn’t eleven years old any more, I reminded myself. I could do this.
‘Explain to me exactly how this will work,’ I said, in a clear voice that was free of tremor.
‘A delegation will ride out tomorrow.’
I choked. Ride? As in horses? Shite.
Aifric didn’t notice my reaction but I was certain that Byron did. I could almost feel the amusement emanating from him.
‘It will take just over a day to reach the Foinse. It’s not an easy journey and the rural location requires old-fashioned transport. There will be two representatives from Kincaid, Moncrieffe, Darroch, as well as you. Kincaid’s key opens the path. Our key – the Moncrieffe key – opens the cavern. Darroch’s key opens the bridge and your key opens the final barrier to the box, within which the Foinse resides.’
I nodded, trying to look wise. ‘And the key looks like…?’
There was a snort from the table. I was pretty certain it came from the Bull but I couldn’t be sure. Aifric barely reacted but I could swear his shoulders stiffened. ‘The key is you. The humans call it DNA. We are less prosaic. We call it your soul.’
Oh. That made a kind of sense. ‘No problem.’
Aifric smiled benignly. ‘All you have to do is whisper your true name and the key will work. The difficult part will be getting to the Foinse. Once you’re at the site, it will be easy.’
I stared at him. A tiny furrow crossed his brow. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘The, um, true name part.’
He nodded. ‘I can understand why you’d be worried about that. No-one will hear you say it. Every representative will be respectful. You have my word.’
‘She’d better be respectful back,’ someone muttered. ‘If she learns one of the others’ true names then…’
Byron strolled over to the red-haired grumbler. He didn’t touch her or speak to her; he simply stood behind her chair. She immediately fell silent. Damn. That was some power. What exactly did he do for his father? Was he some kind of enforcer? I knew of a few Clan-less gangs that had people like that in their ranks. They didn’t tend to last very long.
I shook myself. Whatever Byron’s role, it didn’t alter the issue confronting all of us.
I cleared my throat. ‘This probably isn’t the best time to bring this up but I should mention it as it has a bearing on your plan.’
Aifric appeared confused. ‘Go on.’
‘I, er, don’t have a true name.’
You could have heard a pin drop in the room.
‘Say that again?’
I licked my lips and repeated myself. ‘I don’t have a true name. I never received one.’
It started slowly. Aifric’s cheeks flushed pink then, second by second, they grew darker until his entire face was a mottled purple. His blue eyes turned icy. ‘What is the meaning of this?’
I stepped back. It wasn’t my fault. If any of them had stopped to think about it, they’d have realised. All the same a shudder of fear ran through me. What would he do now?
Byron returned to his spot next to me. Surprisingly, he wrapped his hand round my upper arm and squeezed it reassuringly. By the look on his father’s face, however, that wasn’t going to help.
‘How can you not have your name?’ He turned to the table of astonished Sidhe, fixed on the Bull and raised his voice. ‘How can she not have her name?’
The Bull’s eyes darted around in terror and I realised for the first time that the man who was such a focus for my nightmares when I was a child was actually rather unremarkable. He was morbidly obese, which detracted slightly from his Sidhe good looks and poise, but he wasn’t the monster that I remembered. Whether age had diminished him or whether it was simply that I was no longer a child, I found that I could look at the Bull and feel nothing more than vague disdain. I was neither scared nor angry nor vengeful. I had won.
‘She was eleven years old when she ran away,’ he stammered. ‘It wasn’t my responsibility.’
‘She was your responsibility!’ Aifric thundered.
Byron’s grip round my arm tightened.
‘We agreed to leave her be,’ the Bull began.