Daughter of the Blood

rivalry between Robert and Philip was an open secret among the aristo Blood in Beldon Mor, and Alexandra's inability to control her own family was causing doubts about her ability to rule the Territory. Add to that the social embarrassment of having a granddaughter who had been going in and out of a hospital for emotionally disturbed children since she was five years old.
    And add to that having that same child admit that the High Lord of Hell, the Prince of the Darkness, the most powerful and dangerous Warlord Prince in the history of the Blood, was teaching her Craft.
    Even if they thought it was just another story, they would lock her away for good to keep her from telling anyone who might listen. But if, for once, they did believe her, what else might they do to her to end the High Lord's interest in her and keep themselves safe? And Daemon felt sure that there were things going on in Beldon Mor that Saetan wouldn't be willing to overlook or forgive.
    Daemon looked up and breathed a sigh of relief.
    Jaenelle stood in the doorway wearing riding clothes. Her golden hair was braided and a riding hat perched on top of her head at a rakish angle. "I'm going riding. Want to come?"
    "Oh, yes!" Wilhelmina said happily. "I'm done practicing."
    As he watched Wilhelmina dash out of the room, there was a bitter taste in Daemon's mouth. The ashes of dreams. After all, he was Hayll's Whore, a pleasure slave, an amusement for the ladies no matter what their age, a way to pass the time. He closed the music and made a pretense of straightening the stack. Why should he hope Jaenelle felt anything for him? Why should he hurt now like a child who's not picked for a game?
    Daemon turned. Jaenelle stood by the piano, studying him, a puzzled frown wrinkling her forehead.
    "Don't you ride, Prince?"
    "Yes, I ride."
    "Oh." She considered this. "Don't you want to come?"
    Daemon blinked. He looked at her beautiful, clear sapphire eyes. It had never occurred to her to exclude him. He smiled at her and gave her braid a gentle, playful tug. "Yes, I would like to come."
    She studied him again. "Don't you have any other clothes?"
    Daemon choked. "I beg your pardon?"
    "You're always dressed like that."
    Daemon looked at his perfectly tailored black suit and white silk shirt, completely taken aback. "What's wrong with the way I dress?"
    "Nothing. But if you wear those clothes, you're going to get wrinkled."
    Daemon started coughing and thumped his chest to give himself time to swallow the laughter. "I have some riding clothes," he wheezed.
    "Oh, good." Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
    Little imp. You know why I'm choking, don't you? You're a merciless little creature to mock a man's vanity.
    Jaenelle trotted to the door. "Hurry up, Prince. We'll meet you at the stable."
    "My name is Daemon," he growled softly.
    Jaenelle spun around, gave him an impudent curtsy and grinned before running down the hall.
    Daemon walked to his room as quickly as his still-sore toes allowed. His name was Daemon, not Prince, he growled to himself as he changed clothes. It always sounded like she was calling a damn dog even if it was his proper Protocol title. It wouldn't hurt to call him by name, but she wouldn't because he was her elder.
    Daemon paused as he pulled on his boots. He started to laugh. If he was her elder, then what did she think about the Priest?
    When Daemon got to the stable yard, there were two ponies saddled as well as a gray mare and Dark Dancer. Not sure which horse was intended for him, he approached Andrew. The stable lad gave Daemon a wobbly smile before ducking his head and re-checking Dancer's saddle.
    "Be careful," Andrew said quietly. "He's jumpy today."
    "Compared to what?" Daemon asked dryly.
    Andrew hunched his shoulders.
    Daemon's eyes narrowed. "Is there a reason for this jumpiness?"
    The shoulders hunched a bit more.
    Feeling the tension running through the yard, Daemon looked around.
    Jaenelle was talking quietly to one of the ponies. Wilhelmina stood nearby, waiting for someone to help her mount. Her cheeks were prettily flushed from the crisp autumn air and the excitement of riding, but she kept glancing nervously in his direction and refused to acknowledge him. "Mother Night," he muttered and went over to Wilhelmina to give her a leg up.
    After helping Wilhelmina mount, Daemon turned to give Jaenelle a hand, but she was already on her pony, grinning at him.
    "We'd best be off if we're going," Andrew said nervously.
    As Daemon