“Oh, I daenae think that’s the best thing to do.”
“Codie!”
The sharp voice cut through their laughter like a blade. Iris spun around to find Elijah striding toward them, his face like a thundercloud. He took in the scene, the mud-splattered garden, their filthy clothes, the destruction they’d wrought among the carefully tended flower beds, and his expression grew darker still.
“What is the meanin’ of this?” His voice was deadly quiet, the tone that made grown men tremble.
All the joy drained from Codie’s face instantly. He went very still, stepping slightly behind Iris’s skirt. His small shoulders hunching as if expecting a blow.
“We were just playin’, Faither,” he said in a tiny voice. “I’m sorry.”
“Playin’?” Elijah’s gaze moved between them, lingering on Iris’ muddy appearance with obvious disapproval. “This is what ye call playin’? Destroyin’ the gardens like savages?”
“It was just mud,” Iris began, stepping protectively in front of Codie. “We were playin’.”
“Ye were supposed to be watchin’ him, nae encouragin’ this... this chaos.” Elijah gestured at the mess surrounding them. “Look at the state of ye both!”
“He’s a child,” Iris said, her own temper beginning to rise. “Children play. They get dirty. It’s what they do.”
“Codie,” Elijah said sharply, “go to yer chambers. Now. And clean yerself up.”
“But Faither...”
“Now.”
The single word cracked like a whip. Codie’s eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t cry. He just nodded miserably and began walking toward the castle, his small figure looking impossibly forlorn.
“Wait,” Iris called after him, but Elijah’s hand shot out to stop her.
“Let him go.”
She watched Codie disappear through the garden gate, her heart breaking for him. He’d been so happy, so alive just moments before. And now...
“That was cruel,” she said quietly, turning to face Elijah.
“That was necessary. He needs to learn that there are consequences for his actions.”
“He’s ten years old! He was just bein’ a child!”
“He’s the future laird of this clan. He cannae behave like a common street urchin.”
“He was playin’!” The words burst out of her, sharp with frustration. “When was the last time ye saw him truly happy? When was the last time he laughed like that?”
Uncertainty flickered across Elijah’s face, followed by regret, but he quickly replaced it with that cool impenetrable expression.
“Happiness isnae the point,” he growled. “Discipline is. Control. Learnin’ to behave appropriately for his station.”
“And what about bein’ a child? What about joy and laughter?”
“What about teachin’ him that actions have consequences? That he cannae just do whatever he pleases without thinkin’ of others?”
“Others?” Iris stared at him incredulously. “Ye mean the servants who’ll have to clean the garden? Do ye truly think they’ll mind when it means that boy finally got to be happy for an hour?”
“I think,” Elijah said, stepping closer, “that ye clearly cannae handle even one child. Perhaps ye should stick to household management and leave the boy’s upbringin’ to people with more sense.”
The words made Iris take a step backward. “How dare ye!”
“How dare I what? Point out that ye failed at yer most basic responsibility? That instead of guidin’ him properly, ye encouraged him to act like some wild animal?” His voice was cutting, designed to wound. “Look at yerself, Iris. Covered in mud, hair fallin’ down like some common tavern wench. Is this what ye call bein’ in control?”
