Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

way.'
    Julia inclined her head regally, accepted the Champion's proffered arm, and allowed him to assist her up the steps to the entrance hall. The four guardsmen followed at a discreet distance. Rupert turned to the dragon and the unicorn.
    'I thought the escort was for you,' said the dragon.
    'Hardly,' said Rupert. 'Well, don't just stand there; come with me to see the King.'
    'You want both of us?' said the unicorn timidly.
    'Damn right,' said the Prince, smiling. 'I'm going to need all the support I can get. Now let's go and look after Julia. Before she kills someone.'

    Rupert paced impatiently up and down the Court's narrow antechamber, shooting seething glances at the securely locked double doors that led into the Great Hall itself. The Champion had gone in first to inform the King that his son had finally arrived, and then, as so many times before, the ancient doors had been slammed in Rupert's face. Once again, the Court was busy deciding his future. Whatever they want, the answer's no, thought Rupert determinedly. I didn't survive the Darkwood just to get kitted off by my own scheming relatives.
    He stopped pacing and listened at the doors. A constant hubbub seeped through the solid wood, indicating that most of the Court were still present, despite the late hour. Rupert grinned. Courtiers hated having to work late; it interfered with the important things of life, like hunting, drinking and wenching.
    Rupert stretched slowly, and thought longingly of the deep-matttessed bed waiting for him in his room.
    But, tired as he was, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he'd discovered what new deviltry the King and his Court had come up with. He threw himself into one of the exquisitely uncomfortable chairs provided, and looked to see what his friends were doing.
    Julia had her dagger out, and was using the family portraits for target practice. Her aim was pretty good.
    The dragon was lying partly in the antechamber, and partly in the outer hall. He was practising blowing smoke rings from his nostrils, and chewing absently at a centuries-old tapestry Rupert had never liked much anyway. The unicorn was . . . Rupert winced.
    'Unicorn, couldn't you have done that before you came in?'
    'Sorry,' said the unicorn. 'I get nervous inside strange buildings, you know that. I keep thinking the roof's going to fall on me.'
    Rupert shook his head, and looked back at the closed double doors. How many times had he stood before those doors, waiting for permission to speak to his own father? His mind drifted back through yesterday, and found nothing pleasant there. Born seven years after his brother, Rupert had been a surprise to everyone, and bad news to most. A King needed a second son as insurance in case something happened to the first, but two healthy adult sons meant nothing but trouble. Rupert had known that from an early age; everyone had taken great pains to make it clear to him. He scowled, as memories crept out of the shadows. The tutors, who beat him for being brighter than his favoured elder brother. His instructors-at-arms, who beat him for not being as strong as his brother. The courtiers, who flattered or insulted him according to the fashion. The Barons, who intrigued in his name. And the Champion, whose cold dark eyes were full of death.
    Foxfire moss glowed steadily in several lamps hanging from the low ceiling, but the antechamber was still full of shadows, as though darkness had followed him into the Castle. Rupert leaned back in his chair and sighed, wearily. Out in the Forest it had all seemed so simple and straightforward. He had to go back to the Castle because the Forest Land needed him. He smiled bitterly. The Forest didn't need him. It never had. The only people who'd ever needed him were Julia, the dragon and the unicorn. His friends.
    Rupert's smile softened at the thought, and he rolled it back and forth in his mind, savouring it. He'd never had friends before. His position had kept him apart from other children, and his family . . . His mother died when he was five years old. His brother insulted and tormented him. And his father sent him out on a quest, to die.
    Rupert shook his head to clear it. He'd passed through the Darkwood twice, fought off demons and called down a Rainbow. Stuff his father, stuff the Court, and stuff the bloody Champion.
    They'd tried to get rid of him, and it hadn't worked. He was back, and they could like it or lump it.
    'How much longer?' asked Julia, retrieving her