Daughter of the Blood

cursing and Jaenelle's shrieks of outrage.
    Saetan closed the book on the lectern. There was a time, and not that long ago, when no one wanted to open that door, let alone pummel it into kindling. Easing himself onto a corner of the blackwood desk, he crossed his arms and waited.
    Andulvar burst into the room, his expression an unsettling blend of fear and fury. Prothvar came in right behind him, dragging Jaenelle by the back of her dress. When she tried to break his grip, he grabbed her from behind and lifted her off her feet.
    "Put me down, Prothvar!" Jaenelle cocked her knee and pistoned her leg back into Prothvar's groin.
    Prothvar howled and dropped her.
    Instead of falling, Jaenelle executed a neat roll in the air before springing to her feet, still a foot above the floor, and unleashing a string of profanities in more languages than Saetan could identify.
    Saetan forced himself to look authoritatively neutral and decided, reluctantly, that this wasn't the best time to discuss Language Appropriate for Young Ladies. "Witch-child, kicking a man in the balls may be an effective way to get his attention, but it's not something a child should do." He winced when she turned all her attention on him.
    "Why not?" she demanded. "A friend told me that's what I should do if a male ever grabbed me from behind. He made me promise."
    Saetan raised an eyebrow. "This friend is male?" How interesting.
    Before he could pursue it further, Andulvar rumbled ominously, "That's not the problem, SaDiablo."
    "Then what is the problem?" Not that he really wanted to know.
    Prothvar pointed at Jaenelle. "That little . . . she . . . tell him!"
    Jaenelle clenched her hands and glared at Prothvar. "It was your fault. You laughed and wouldn't teach me. You knocked me down."
    Saetan raised one hand. "Slow down. Teach you what?"
    "He wouldn't teach me to fly," Jaenelle said accusingly.
    "You don't have wings!" Prothvar snapped.
    "I can fly as well as you can!"
    "You haven't got the training!"
    "Because you wouldn't teach me!"
    "And I'm damn well not going to!"
    Jaenelle flung out an Eyrien curse that made Prothvar's eyes pop.
    Andulvar's face turned an alarming shade of purple before he pointed to the door and roared, " OUT !"
    Jaenelle flounced out of the study with Prothvar limping after her.
    Saetan clamped a hand over his mouth. He wanted to laugh. Sweet Darkness, how he wanted to laugh, but the look in Andulvar's eyes warned him that if he so much as chuckled, they were going to engage in a no-holds-barred brawl.
    "You find this amusing," Andulvar rumbled, rustling his wings.
    Saetan cleared his throat several times. "I suppose it's difficult for Prothvar to find himself on the losing end of a scrap with a seven-year-old girl. I didn't realize a warrior's ego bruises so easily."
    Andulvar's grim expression didn't change.
    Saetan became annoyed. "Be reasonable, Andulvar. So she wants to learn to fly. You saw how well she balances on air."
    "I saw a lot more than that," Andulvar snapped.
    Saetan ground his teeth and counted to ten. Twice. "So tell me."
    Andulvar crossed his muscular arms and stared at the ceiling. "The waif's friend Katrine is showing her how to fly, but Katrine flies like a butterfly and Jaenelle wants to fly like a hawk, like an Eyrien. So she asked Prothvar to teach her. And he laughed, which, I admit, wasn't a wise thing to do, and she—"
    "Got her back up."
    "—jumped off the high tower of the Hall."
    There was a moment of silence before Saetan exploded. " What? "
    "You know the high tower, SaDiablo. You built this damned place. She climbed onto the top of the wall and jumped off. Do you still find it amusing?"
    Saetan clamped his hands on the desk. His whole body shook. "So Prothvar caught her when she fell."
    Andulvar snorted. "He almost killed her. When she jumped off, he dove over the side after her. Unfortunately, she was standing, on the air, less than ten feet below the ledge. When he went over the side, he barreled into her and took them both down almost three quarters of the way before he came out of the dive."
    "Mother Night," Saetan muttered.
    "And may the Darkness be merciful. So what are you going to do! "
    "Talk to her," Saetan replied grimly as he flicked a thought at the door and watched it open smoothly and swiftly. "Witch-child."
    Jaenelle approached him, her anger now cooled to the unyielding determination he'd come to recognize all too well.
    Fighting to control his temper, Saetan studied her for a