Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

kept hoping, but there's no hope left now.
    Not after all this time. No hope ... I should have gone with him, Harald, I should have gone with him!'
    Harald took her in his arms. She tensed, and then relaxed against him, her head resting on his shoulder.
    'If you'd gone with him,' said Harald, 'the odds are you'd have been killed as well. He knew that, that's why he made you stay behind.'
    'I know that,' said Julia. 'It doesn't help. I wasn't there to stand at his side, and now he's dead. Rupert's dead. Every time I think that, it's like someone hit me in the gut. It hurts, Harald.'
    'I know, Julia. But you'll get over it, once we're married.'
    It was the wrong thing to say, and Harald knew that the moment he said it. Julia stiffened in his arms, and when she lifted her head to look at him, her face was cold and unyielding. Harald let her go, and stepped back a pace. He searched for something else to say, something that would bring back the closeness they'd felt, but the moment had passed. Harald shrugged mentally. There'd be other times.
    'What did Sir Blays want?' asked Julia evenly.
    'He was reminding me I'd agreed to attend a party of his. I really ought to be getting along, I'm late as it is.'
    'A party? Why didn't I get an invitation?'
    Harald raised an eyebrow. 'I thought you had a woman's army to train?'
    Julia smiled sweetly. 'I thought you had a dungeon to visit?'
    Harald laughed. 'Touché, my dear. The dungeons under the moat are something of a family joke.
    Father's been threatening me with them for as long as I can remember. The more upset he gets, the more he dwells on their gruesome details. I suppose there are still cells of some kind under the moat, but nobody's used them for centuries. Our dungeons are little more than holding cells; once the prisoners have been to trial we send them out to work off their sentences on the farms. Why waste manpower?'
    'What happens when they run away?'
    'They can't. The Court magician puts a compulsion on them before they leave.'
    'Never mind all that,' said Julia, suddenly realising just how far Harald had led her from her original question, 'About this party ...'
    'You don't really want to go, do you? You wouldn't enjoy it, you know.'
    'No I don't know,' said Julia, rather nettled at being openly excluded from the party. Not that she actually wanted to go, but. . . 'Who's going to be at this party?'
    'Oh, the Landsgraves, some High Society, a sprinkling of others. I'm not too sure myself. Trust me, Julia, you wouldn't enjoy it. And anyway, this is one party where admittance is most definitely by invitation only. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going. I'll talk with you some more later, I promise.'
    And with that he hurried out of the antechamber, before she could ask him anything else. Julia glared at his retreating back. Just for that, she would go to his damn party, and heaven help anyone who tried to keep her out. She frowned thoughtfully. A party the size this one would have to be couldn't easily be hidden away. Somewhere, there was a servant who knew, and who could be persuaded to talk. And then . . . Julia grinned. What with one thing and another, she was just in the mood for a little rowdy gatecrashing. She chuckled earthily, and strode off to look for a weak-willed servant.

    Prince Harald strode casually down the dimly lit corridor, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword. His footsteps echoed dully back from the oak-panelled walls. From time to time, as he drew closer to Lord Darius's quarters, a guardsman in full chain-mail would emerge from some concealing shadow to challenge him, only to fall back upon recognising Harald's grim features. The Prince ignored them, but was quietly impressed by the thoroughness with which Darius protected himself. Obviously he didn't intend for his little party to be interrupted, and by setting his guards in ones and twos he avoided the attention that a large number of men would undoubtedly have drawn. As it was, Harald estimated that a full troop of guards stood between Lord Darius's chambers and the rest of the Castle, acting as both an advance-warning system and a strategically placed fighting force. Harald smiled slightly. The rebellion seemed well planned, if nothing else. He was quite looking forward to seeing who would be waiting for him at the party.
    Two tall, brawny guardsmen stood before Lord Darius's door. They wore a featureless leather armour, with no colours to indicate allegiance. Their faces