Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

the glass and spoke, his voice was calm and even. 'Very well, Sir Blays. But I'll not wield one of those blades. Not for the throne itself and all the Forest Land.'
    'I never intended that you should,' said Blays.
    Darius stared at him a moment, and then bowed formally and walked away. Sir Guillam and Sir Bedivere came over to join Sir Blays.
    'The noble Lord Darius doesn't seem too happy,' said Guillam, smiling unpleasantly. 'I do hope he isn't going to be a problem.'
    'He won't be,' said Blays curtly. He didn't bother to keep the disdain from his voice; he might have to work with Guillam, but he didn't have to like him. Sir Guillam was such a nasty little man, when all was said and done. If he wasn't so necessary to the Barons' plans . . . Blays sighed regretfully, and then winced as Guillam's gaze wandered over the more comely of the ladies present, blatantly undressing them with his eyes.
    'Try to keep your gaze polite, dammit,' growled Blays. 'We're supposed to be persuading these people to our cause, not providing jealous husbands with grounds for a duel.'
    Guillam sniggered, and drank deeply from his glass. His round, bland features were flushed, and his smile
    was ugly. 'Now, now, Blays, we all have our preferences. In return for my services, the Barons promised me I could have anything I wanted. Anything, or anyone. Since I've been here at the Castle, I've seen the most delightful creature, such a sweet young thing... I want her, and I'm going to have her. I'm sure she'll grow very fond of me, eventually.'
    Blays looked away. What little he'd heard of Guillam's private life had been enough to turn his stomach.
    It seemed the Landsgrave liked a little blood with his pleasures. And sometimes more than a little.
    Guillam stared hungrily at a tall and slender masked Lady as she and her husband stepped gracefully through the measures of a dance. She caught his eye, shuddered, and looked quickly away. Guillam licked his lips, and the husband glared at him.
    'Damn you,' snarled Blays. 'I told you ...'
    'I don't take orders from you!' said Guillam fiercely. He turned suddenly to face Blays, a vicious little skinning knife in his hand. His mouth trembled petulantly, and his eyes were very bright. 'I'm a Bladesmaster, and don't you forget it! Without me, you'll never control the Infernal Devices, and without them your precious rebellion hasn't a hope in hell of succeeding. You need me, Blays, I don't need you.
    My private life is none of your damn business! No one tells me what to do! Not you, or the Barons, or . .
    .'
    A large hand closed over his, and squeezed. Guillam cried out with pain, and his face went white. Tears ran down his cheeks as Bedivere crushed his hand in an unyielding grip.
    'You do anything to upset our plans,' said Sir Bedivere quietly, 'and I'll hurt you, little man. I'll hurt you so badly you'll never walk straight again.'
    He let go, and Guillam cradled his wounded hand to his chest, sniffing sullenly.
    'Afterwards,' said Sir Bedivere, 'you can do whatever you like, you revolting little man. But not yet. Until Harald is securely on his throne, and safely under our control, you don't do one damn thing that might jeopardise our mission. Is that clear?'
    Guillam nodded quickly, and Bedivere turned away to stare calmly out over the milling throng. The crimson glare had already faded from his eyes, but the madness remained, as it always did.
    Blays shook his head slowly as Guillam awkwardly made his knife disappear. Not for the first time, Blays wondered how he'd come to this: plotting treason against his King with a berserker and a pervert.
    It was all John's fault, for being a weak King, If he'd been stronger, more capable, done what was so obviously needed, none of this would have been necessary. You should never have gone after the Curtana, John. Anything else, and we might still have struck a deal, but once you'd opened the Armoury there was nothing more I could do for you. Harald would do better. He understood the realities of power. A strong King on the Forest throne, working with the Barons, not against them, that was what was needed. And then the Darkwood would be driven back, the demons destroyed, and everything would be the way it used to be. Everything.
    Damn you, ]ohn! Damn you for making me a traitor!

    Cecelia glided confidently through the loudly chattering crowd, making bright conversation with people she couldn't stand, and smiling till her jaws ached. The air was growing dull and