Last Wish (Highland Magic #4)(61)

The guard nodded and drove his hand into my stomach instead. He yanked the hood back over my face and dragged me out while I was still winded and gasping for air.

I counted steps for no other reason than it gave me something to do and kept my mind off the pain in my stomach. We didn’t go far. At sixty-nine, where I’d have made another joke except it would have been lost on these two numbskulls, we stopped. I could hear Aifric’s dulcet tones, although they were slightly muffled as if far away – or on the other side of a door.

‘We live in dangerous times. While that doesn’t mean we should stop living or be afraid of celebrating the simple, sincere love of two young people like dear Tipsy and my son, it does mean that there are actions which must be undertaken to keep us all safe. The Highlands of Scotland may be small in size but they are not small in stature. We need to do whatever is necessary to minimise the risk to our homes!’

There was a rumbling cheer which started small and got louder and louder. Aifric apparently had his audience in the palm of his hand. I tsked so loudly that I received a sharp kick in the shins.

‘To that end,’ he continued, ‘it falls on me to perform some unpleasant but very necessary duties. I would hate to be accused of being underhand so these duties will take place in full view of all you good people. It pains me to do this but I have no choice. There is a Sidhe who stands accused of the most heinous crimes. I cannot pass judgment so I will leave it to you to hear the evidence and make the final verdict. Only that way will this be fair.’

I snorted. Fair? If he was being fair, I’d be in a proper court of law with a real defence. I had to admit that Aifric Moncrieffe certainly knew how to talk the talk. He was also leaving nothing to chance. No matter who was supposedly passing judgment on me for my ‘crimes’, whatever they were, I would be proclaimed guilty. But Aifric didn’t hold all the cards.

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.’

If I could have killed him with a look, I might have. Last time I checked, I was still a bloody Chieftain and I still ranked alongside him. I tried to speak again, to no avail.

‘If she has done the deeds of which you accuse her, however,’ Kincaid continued, ‘there is no doubt that she will lie. In fact, she has already obviously lied because she is standing there, living and breathing.’

Aifric rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. Were these idiot Sidhe falling for this act? ‘Hmm, yes. I wonder if you would be so good…’ he gestured towards the Kincaid Clan.

‘It would be our pleasure. Several of my Clan members have Truth-Telling as a Gift.’ Malcolm Kincaid nodded at Kirsty.