Page 9 of Time of the Warlord (Stones of Scotland #5)

C iaran was snappish and short-tempered all the way through the next morning. That damn woman was hiding something else, he was sure of it. Distrust of her host, he could understand. She had no reason to trust him, and she was vulnerable here. But understanding was irrelevant. With Matthew here, he could not afford to take any risks with strangers - especially time-traveling strangers. It was too much of a coincidence.

His temper finally snapped during his morning training session with Matthew.

“For God’s sake, keep that damn sword point up,” he snapped. “Any Irishman could run you through in a second, boy.”

Matthew threw the sword down. “And what does any of it matter?” he snapped back. “I’m no warrior, and you know it. You’re only doing this to make my mother feel better, to let her pretend I have a place here.”

“Don’t speak of you mother like that, boy,” Ciaran warned, raising his own sword threateningly. “She is your queen and you owe her respect.”

Matthew sucked in a deep breath. Ciaran could almost see the fury about to erupt. This had been building for weeks - months, even.

“Good morning,” a cheery voice said. “This does look exciting.”

Ciaran and Matthew met each other’s gazes with expressions of equal horror. Sadie .

“What are you doing here?” Ciaran asked, turning to glare at her.

She shrugged. “What else do I have to do, until you get me back home?”

That was a fair point, Ciaran had to concede. She didn’t exactly have work to do, unlike everyone else here who knew their role and their purpose. What he hadn’t told her, though, was that he had no plans to send her home. After all, there were only two people who could activate the stone circle and send her through time: Matthew, and his mother, Bethany. Ciaran had sworn to keep their secrets, and he could hardly reveal the truth to a woman he didn’t trust. Until he knew what Sadie was hiding, he would not be sending her anywhere.

“I can show you around,” Matthew said, unexpectedly. “I know the land around here better than anyone.”

That was true enough. Matthew had been on the island less than a year, but his habit of running wild meant that he knew the rocky hills and the half-hidden sheep tracks as well as men who’d grown up here.

“I don’t think the two of you should wander off alone,” Ciaran said, stifling a burst of panic at the thought. What if she talked Matthew into taking her back through time?

“Well, I’m not practicing with that sword for another damn minute,” Matthew said.

“Watch your language,” Sadie and Ciaran chimed in unsettling unison. Ciaran eyed her suspiciously, but she looked just as uncomfortable as he did.

“I don’t want you wandering off on your own, Matthew,” Ciaran said. “Not after last time.”

Matthew drew a deep, angry breath. He might only be ten years old, but he had the temper of a grown man.

“Then I want to go home,” he announced. “I hate it here. I hate being cooped up behind these walls, and hitting things with a sword, and pretending that I’m going to be a lord someday.”

“Matthew-” Ciaran tried, but the boy barely paused for breath.

“We all know that I have no family here, and the next king will probably want me gone. I’ll never command warriors in battle, or have my own hall, or be anything like you. I’ll have to be a monk, or a trader, and you can’t teach me anything about that. This is a waste of time. I want to go home.”

“Your parents haven’t summoned you,” Ciaran pointed out. He hated having this conversation where Sadie could hear. Couldn’t Matthew have waited another few days before this explosion.

“I don’t care,” Matthew said. “My mother loves me, and I know she didn’t want me to leave. We’re going home tomorrow, and that’s final.”

“Be reasonable,” Ciaran said, trying to rein in his temper. It was hardly appropriate to argue with a boy . “I am the lord here. I can’t just pack up and leave at a moment’s notice.”

Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “You can, and you will,” he said, sounding every bit as imperious as his stepfather, the king.

Ciaran drew breath, ready to argue. Yes, Niamh could manage the day-to-day running of the place, and the captain of Ciaran’s guard was more than capable of handling security. But this island was Ciaran’s responsibility, his gift from the king for years of good service. He’d worked for a decade to earn the honor of a place as a warlord, and he’d be damned if a ten-year-old ran all over him.

His thoughts must have showed on his face. Matthew lifted his chin and faced Ciaran head-on.

“We’re going home tomorrow,” he said firmly. “And Sadie’s coming with us.”

With a sudden sinking feeling, Ciaran knew what Matthew was about to say. Don’t do it , he silently willed him, but triumph was written all over the boy’s face.

“Sadie has to come with us,” he said. “Because my mother is the person who can send her back to her own time. Isn’t that right, Ciaran?”

If he’d been a few feet taller - and a few years older - Ciaran would have punched him for that. Instead, he stood there, sword in one hand, other fist clenched, and glared down at his prince and foster-son.

“Aye, Matthew, that’s right,” he said through gritted teeth. “It will have to be your mother who sends Sadie home.”