Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

of the Court, King John sat stiff-backed on his throne, with two guardsmen to either side of him. How long has he needed the protection of armed guards in his own Court? wondered Rupert, frowning. The King leaned forward on his throne and glared coldly at the High Warlock standing proudly before him, and Rupert didn't need to know what they were saying to know they were arguing. His frown deepened as he studied their faces. Anger was written plainly there for all to see, and so was fear, but beyond the obvious and the expected lay something else, something that might have been betrayal, on both sides.
    He was a traitor. A traitor, a coward and a drunk.
    Rupert looked away. Standing at the King's right hand was Harald, swathed in gleaming chain-mail, every inch the Prince. His muscles rippled impressively as he changed casually from one heroic pose to another. Rupert smiled grimly, Harald had always looked the part much more than he ever had. And then he saw Julia, hanging on Harald's arm, and his smile was gone, leaving only the grimness behind. Rupert watched silently as Julia smiled gaily and patted Harald's arm with an easy familiarity. Harald smiled at her, and said something that made her laugh. And then some hidden instinct called to both of them, and they looked out into the Court and saw Rupert watching them. Julia flinched away from his steady gaze, and then stared coldly back, daring him to say anything. Harald smiled and bowed politely. Rupert looked away. Suddenly he felt tired. So very tired. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than just to turn and walk out of the Court and back to his room, there to sleep and sleep and sleep, until everything went away and stopped making demands on him. The moment passed but the weariness remained.
    Rupert sighed, quietly. No rest for the wicked.
    'Look at them,' said the Champion disgustedly, nodding at the courtiers. 'The long night has finally fallen, and all the Court can do is squabble and catcall like children in a playground. They'll be pulling each other's hair next.'
    Rupert smiled in spite of himself. 'You know, sir Champion, there was a time I actually believed the High Warlock might solve some of our problems ... I should have known better.'
    The Champion glared coldly about him. 'I did warn you, Sire. I trust the High Warlock about as far as I could throw a wet camel.'
    'Then why did you risk your life riding with me, on a journey whose whole purpose was to try to persuade the Warlock to come back with us?'
    'Because my King ordered me to,' said the Champion. 'No other reason.'
    'Oh hell,' said Rupert. 'I suppose I'd better go and break this shouting match up, or we'll never get anything done. At this rate, somebody is bound to upset the Warlock once too often, and we'll end up with a Court full of bemused-looking toads.'
    'He wouldn't dare use his magic here,' said the Champion.
    'Don't bet on it,' said Rupert. 'The High Warlock has all the practicality and self-preservation instincts of a depressed lemming.'
    He strode forward into the Court, and the milling crowd closed around him. The noise was appalling, and the people were packed so tightly together that Rupert found himself hard put to make any headway.
    He saw a gap in the crowd and made for it, but a courtier got there first. Rupert tried to get past him, but the courtier just shot him a spiteful glance and deliberately moved to block his way. Rupert took the
    courtier by the shoulder, turned him round, punched him out, and walked over him. The nearest Lords and Ladies turned angrily on the Prince, and then took one look at his face and backed hastily away.
    Rupert strode on towards the throne and the constant babble of voices died gradually away as one by one the courtiers became aware of the grim, bloodstained figure in their midst. They fell away to either side of him and watched silently as he passed.
    Rupert finally came to a halt before the throne. The King and the Warlock went on arguing, too wrapped up in each other to notice either Rupert's presence or the sudden hush that had fallen over the Court. Rupert stared past the King, and caught Harald's eye. His brother stirred uneasily, and a slight frown marred his placid features. Rupert's time in the Darkwood had changed him, and for the first time Harald felt a faint prickling of fear run down his spine. The blood-spattered, cold-eyed stranger before him had nothing in common with the quiet, indecisive brother he'd dominated for so many