Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

evidence of neglect, there was also a feeling of age, of something whose time had passed. The Forest Court had been ancient when King John first came to the throne, but never before had it seemed so faded and shabby to his eyes. As with so many other things, it had fallen apart gradually, over the years, and he just hadn't noticed.
    How has it all come to this? thought the King, picking at the ragged ermine collar of his cloak. He'd always done his best for the Kingdom, done everything that was required of him. He'd made a good marriage, and they'd been happy together, until illness had taken her from him, twenty-one long years ago. King John sighed wearily, remembering. That had been his first real lesson in Kingship. It had seemed such a simple thing at first, a chill, after a summer swim. And then the chill became a fever, and the fever became something worse. At the end she lay in her bed, her face gaunt from all the weight she'd lost, her head rolling back and forth on the sweat-soaked pillow. Again and again she coughed bright red blood, in long painful spasms that racked her frail body. All through the long days and longer nights, King John sat by her bed and held her hand, but she didn't even know he was there. The greatest surgeons and priests and magicians had come at his call, but none of them could save her, and at the last, for all his power, the King could only sit beside the bed and watch the one he loved slowly die.
    King John sat on his throne, and looked out over his empty Court. He'd done his best. Fought the Kingdom's battles, defended the Land against its enemies, and all for what? To sit alone in a dusty, echoing hall, and know his best hadn't been good enough.

    Out in the antechamber, Harald and Julia glared at each other and argued in whispers while they waited for the King's summons.
    'Look, Julia, you're going to marry me, and that's that. It's all been arranged.'
    'Then you can damn well unarrange it.'
    The contract's been signed.'
    'Not by me.'
    'Your signature isn't necessary,' said Harald calmly. 'Neither is your consent.'
    He ducked at the last moment, and Julia's fist just brushed his hair in passing. Harald took the precaution of stepping back a pace while the Princess regained her balance. Being around Julia was doing more for his combat reflexes than all the Champion's years of training put together.
    'Julia, we've been through all this before. This marriage is going to take place no matter how we feel about it. Why not just accept it, and make the best of things?'
    Julia glared at him. 'Look, Harald, I'm going to say this once and once only, so listen carefully. I don't love you. I don't like you. I have about as much feeling for you as I have for what they shovel out of the stables every morning, I wouldn't marry you if the alternative was leprosy. Got it?'
    'You'll learn to love me, after we're married,' said Harald complacently. Julia kicked him in the shin.
    Harald hobbled up and down for a while, swearing under his breath so as not to upset his father. He'd learned to anticipate the punches, but the kicks were still getting through.
    Julia turned her back on him and indulged in a quiet fume. Given her somewhat precarious standing in the Court, the last thing she needed was an open feud with the heir to the throne, but she just couldn't help herself. Any woman in the Court was Harald's for the asking, and he had to pick on her. She'd known rabbits that were less determinedly amorous. He brought her presents and paid her compliments and couldn't seem to understand why he wasn't getting anywhere. Julia had to admit that Harald could be pleasant company on occasion, but the persistence of the man was matched only by his infuriating assurance, and sometimes just the sight of Harald approaching was enough to set Julia's palm itching for the hilt of her sword. Her hand dropped automatically to her side, and caressed the pommel briefly.
    It felt good to have Rupert's sword on her hip again. After her journey into the South Wing, she'd lost no time in throwing away her formal gowns and replacing them with a simple tunic and leggings. Fighting in that damn dress had nearly got her killed. If demons could get into the South Wing, no part of the Castle was safe any more. Julia wore a sword at all times now, and at night her scabbard hung from her bedpost, close at hand.
    Strange, she thought sardonically. When I was living with the dragon in his cave, all I ever dreamed of was being