Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

want to know, and he drove them from him by dropping his hand on to his sword and glaring steadily at them until they got the message. Rupert walked on, alone. Some of what the courtiers had said had been interesting, but he was too tired to care or concentrate.
    The solid oak door of Rupert's private chambers had never looked more welcoming. He leaned tiredly against the closed door, putting off the moment when he could finally rest, just so that he could savour it that much longer.
    'Rupert! Damn you, where the hell have you been?'
    Rupert straightened up and turned around, and Julia threw her arms round him and crushed him to her, not waiting for any answer. Rupert hugged her fiercely in return, and buried his face in her long blond hair. For the first time in a long time, he felt happy and at peace. Finally, Julia pushed Rupert away, and they held each other at arm's length, staring hungrily into each other's eyes. Both of them were grinning so hard their mouths hurt. And then Julia's smile vanished as she took in the harsh lines of pain and fatigue etched deeply into Rupert's blood-smeared face.
    'Rupert, you've been hurt! What happened?'
    'Several hundred demons were foolish enough to try and stop me coming back to you. I'm fine now, honest. How are you, lass? You're looking great.'
    'Well I was,' said Julia dryly, 'until some great oaf of a Prince got blood all over my new gowns.'
    Rupert stepped back and took his first good look at her. Julia's robes were a curious mixture of fasion and practicality, and though her face was painted and rouged in the latest Court style, her long hair fell unfettered to her waist, held out of her face only by a simple leather headband. She wore a sword openly on her hip.
    'It's your sword,' said Julia. 'You gave it to me in the Darkwood, remember?'
    'Yes,' said Rupert. 'I remember.'
    His voice was suddenly flat and cold. Julia looked at him curiously.
    'What is it, Rupert?'
    'Harald just invited me to your wedding tomorrow,' said Rupert.
    Julia looked away, unable to meet his gaze. 'We all thought you were dead. I thought you were dead.
    You don't know what it's been like here, on my own. It's not as if I was given any choice as to whether I wanted to get married. And Harald . . . Harald's been very good to me while you were away.'
    'Yeah,' said Rupert. 'I'll bet he has.'
    Julia spun on her heel and stormed off down the corridor. Rupert shook his head disgustedly. Why the hell hadn't he kept his mouth shut? Now he'd have to go after her, and apologise, and . . . His shoulders slumped. What was the point? She'd admitted she was going to marry Harald. Rupert looked down the corridor after her, but it was empty. He turned his back on it.
    He opened his door, stepped into his room, and shut the door behind him. He then locked and bolted it.
    He leaned back against the solid oak door, let out a long heartfelt sigh, and stared round his room.
    Fifteen foot by fifteen, most of it taken up with his bed, wardrobe and wash basin. Threadbare carpets covered the floor, but the bare stone walls were cold and featureless. The only other door led to his private Jakes. Rupert had never been the sort to accumulate possessions, and the simple bedchamber would have seemed stark and utilitarian to anyone but him. As a Prince of the line, he was entitled to a full suite of rooms and half a dozen personal servants, but he'd never wanted them. Servants just got in the way when he wanted to be alone and, besides, how many rooms can you live in at one time?
    Rupert started towards the bed, and then he turned back and checked the door was securely locked.
    He checked the solid steel bolt as well, running his thumb over the cold metal again and again to be sure the bolt was all the way home. Ever since he first returned home from the Darkwood, Rupert had been grateful his room had no windows. It meant he only had to guard his door against demons. With his sword in his hand he could face any number of demons, but ever since that first trip through the endless night, he was afraid of what might creep up on him in the dark while he was asleep and helpless. He needed to rest. He needed to sleep. But he knew he wouldn't be able to rest or sleep until he was sure he was safe. He moved over to the wardrobe, shook his head disgustedly, and gave in to his fear, one more time. He set his shoulder against the side of the massive wardrobe, and slowly pushed it forward to barricade the door. And only then did he