That much done, he turned his attention to the girls.
They were all there. Jaenelle Saetien stood in front of the group. Zoey and Titian stood to one side, arms linked. It only took moments for the young Queen to make eye contact with each of her friends, and those friends all moved a little closer together, separating themselves from Delora and her coven of malice.
“Ladies, as you heard, there has been a reported attack on a special school that is run by the SaDiablo family. Lady Surreal and I have to investigate, which means I must return you to the school in Amdarh immediately. There’s no time for you to go back to your rooms. My staff will take care of packing your things and returning them to you. We leave now.”
He watched Zoey nudge Titian, urging her toward the front door in order to obey him. He saw Delora give Jaenelle Saetien a nudge and a hard look. Did she really believe he wouldn’t notice?
But his daughter leaped forward and said in a voice dangerously close to a whine, “Why can’t we stay here and have our party? We’ll be fine here.”
“The girls can’t stay here without Lady Surreal or me in attendance.” The chill in his voice should have warned her, but that bitch gave her another nudge and was probably coaching her on a distaff thread in what to say to convince him.
“It’s not like we’ll be alone,” Jaenelle Saetien wheedled. “Beale will be here, and he wears a Red Jewel.”
Oh, yes, he does, and in this, it is the Jewel that counts, my darling. “You will follow any orders Lord Beale gives and accept any decisions he makes as if they were mine?” he asked.
She looked relieved. “Yes.”
He scanned the girls’ faces, noting the different expressions. Then he focused on his daughter as Holt returned.
“Lady Jaenelle Saetien SaDiablo, do you swear to me, the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, that you will abide by all orders given and decisions made by Lord Beale on my behalf? Do you swear on your Jewels that you will keep this promise, regardless of anyone else’s wishes?”
She looked startled and uneasy to be required to make a formal promise, but said, “Yes, I swear.”
“Lady Zoela, do you stand witness?”
Zoey sucked in a breath. Then she nodded and said, “I stand witness.”
“Lord Holt, do you stand witness?”
“I stand witness,” Holt replied.
Daemon kept his eyes on his daughter and said softly, “This isn’t a game, and it isn’t a bluff.” He looked at Delora, then back at Jaenelle Saetien. “If there is any trouble here while I’m gone, you will not be the only one who will forfeit your power and your Jewel.”
Before he walked out of the Hall, he touched Zoey’s first inner barrier with the lightest psychic thread he could manage at that moment, but it didn’t hide anything. He felt some regret that his touch revealed the full measure of who, and what, he was. *If you feel uneasy about anything or anyone, find Beale or Holt. They’ll protect you.*
*I will.* She swallowed hard. *Good hunting, Prince.*
He admired the courage it took to say those words to him at that moment.
Leaving the Hall, Daemon glided toward the landing web that was circled by the gravel drive. Using Craft, he moved the large Coach to one side. Then he caught the Black Wind, and headed for the school for half-Blood children.
Delora looked at Hespera, who shook her head to indicate she hadn’t been able to slip into the dining room yet and add a little surprise to a couple of dishes.
Damn.
“Why don’t we spend a few minutes in the sitting room?” she said brightly. “No one in real aristo houses goes directly from their rooms to dinner.”
“But we were late getting here, and the food is ready,” Jaenelle Saetien said.
“You said it was a buffet. If the cook is any good, the food will keep.”
Jaenelle Saetien gave the butler a nervous glance but said, “I guess we could visit in the sitting room for a few minutes.”
Delora felt a fizz of excitement as Hespera, covered by the movement of the other girls, wrapped herself in a sight shield and headed for the dining room, with Tacita, in plain sight, walking with her to act as a diversion. “A few minutes is all we’ll need.” For a lot of things, she added silently.
*Prince Chaosti.*
About to enter the girls’ dormitory to check on Arlene and Jhett, the Healer and Black Widow who hadn’t gone to the house party, Chaosti stepped back and waited for one of his demon-dead Warlords.
The need to serve and protect doesn’t always end with the physical death, Chaosti thought. This fist of Dea al Mon men had been with him when he’d walked among the living. They were among the men who were still with him.
“Report,” he said quietly when the Warlord reached him.
“I found that Dharo Prince challenging the gatekeeper, demanding to know which boys had left the school. The gatekeeper denied that any of the boys had left, but friends of Lady Zoela told Prince Raine that the males who serve the coven of malice slipped away from the school and forced two of Zoela’s male friends to go with them.”
“And the gatekeeper denied they had left school grounds?” Chaosti sent out Gray psychic threads, a web of power that would sweep under the power of the school’s residents. He couldn’t identify every individual, but he’d made a point of recognizing specific ones. And those males weren’t here. Which meant the gatekeeper had lied to Raine. “Inform the gatekeeper that he can tell you the truth or he can explain himself to the High Lord of Hell.”
“Already did that—and kissed the bastard’s throat with my blade to make sure he understood. After that, he admitted that Krellis and the others who serve that bitch Delora, as well as two of Zoela’s friends, left the school and didn’t tell him where they were going. He’d been given a hefty sum of silver marks not to record their leaving so that everyone would think they were still at the school.”
Which might have worked if he and his men hadn’t been here tonight—and if Raine hadn’t called attention to the gatekeeper letting those males slip away.
“Tell Prince Raine to pack a bag, enough for a couple of days. Then go to Zoela’s male friends and help them pack. I’ll fetch Ladies Jhett and Arlene, and we’ll take all of them to the SaDiablo town house.”
“Done,” the Warlord said. He hurried toward the boys’ dormitory, no doubt using a psychic thread to relay Chaosti’s orders to the Dharo Prince.
Not bothering to sight-shield, Chaosti entered the girls’ dormitory. A sudden spike of fear and anger—and something male and rancid—struck his senses and ignited his temper. He raced down the corridor and bounded up the stairs to the second-floor bedrooms.
His Gray power splintered the door of the Black Widow’s room. She and the Healer were there, their teeth bared in fury and their faces filled with the pain of their moontimes as they used short-handled clubs to hold off the two males whose psychic scents were rank with twisted lust.
Chaosti called in his Dea al Mon fighting knives and shouted his battle cry as he strode into the room. The males spun around—and his knives, honed for killing fields, slid into their bodies and sliced through their hearts. He pulled out his knives, put shields around the bodies as they fell, then vanished the newly dead.
He almost pitied them because they would have to stand before the High Lord of Hell’s cold and merciless rage.
“Ladies.” He noted with approval that the girls hadn’t relaxed their fighting stance. “I am Prince Chaosti. I served in the Queen of Ebon Askavi’s First Circle, and I still serve in her name. I am known to the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and have been assisting Lord Weston in guarding Lady Zoela.” Credentials were everything in a situation like this, and lying about these credentials went beyond suicidal.