QUOTE : No, Daemon,” Jaenelle said gently, looking up at him with her ancient, wistful, haunted eyes. “Everyone knows I’m different. It just doesn’t matter to some—and it matters a lot to others.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Why am I different?” Daemon looked away. Oh, child. How could he explain that she was dreams made flesh? That for some of them, she made the blood in their veins sing? That she was a kind of magic the Blood hadn’t seen in so very, very long? “What does the Priest say?” Jaenelle sniffed. “He says growing up is hard work.” Daemon smiled sympathetically. “It is that.