Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

stood a chance.'
    The servants wrapped up Sutton's body in his own cloak, and carried him away. Jordan looked round to see how Dominic was taking the death of his pet assassin, but for the moment he was lost in the crowd. The Court was just starting to get back to normal when the main doors suddenly slammed open, and the
    herald drew himself up to his full height and announced in ringing tones the arrival of His Excellency the Regent, Count William Howerd, and his wife, the Lady Gabrielle.
    Everyone bowed or curtsied, including the three Princes. The Regent and his wife ignored everybody, and strode majestically through the crowd towards the raised dais at the back of the Hall. The crowd opened up before them, making a wide passage for them to walk through. They finally reached the dais and stopped before it to bow and curtsey to the empty throne. Then they slowly climbed the marble
    steps, and took up positions standing on either side of the throne. The Regent and his wife stood looking out over the packed Court, their faces calm and impassive. Jordan studied them both carefully.
    Count William looked more like a King than any of the three Princes. He was tall and powerfully built, with wide shoulders and a fashionably slim waist. His stance was firm and noble, and there was an unselfconscious dignity in his every movement. He wore his dark formal robes with grace and quiet style.
    He was traditionally handsome, with short dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He had the relaxed confident air that adorned so many aristocratic portraits in country houses, and yet there was warmth in his eyes and a slightly self-mocking smile on his lips. He'd make a great romantic lead, thought Jordan. If he didn't look so bloody perfect, I might even like him. Unfortunately, in the game he was playing, the Regent was one of his most powerful opponents.
    His wife, the Lady Gabrielle, was a famous beauty. She was tall and slender, with a graceful willowy body. She wore a long flowing gown of creamy white, with frothy lace cuffs. Her long tawny hair hung in carefully arranged curls around a heart-shaped, almost childlike face. Her eyes were grey and very large, adding to her helpless-little-girl look. Jordan wasn't fooled for a moment. He'd seen that look on too many girls in the Chorus; girls who spent all their spare time trying to get out of the chorus and into speaking roles. Usually via somebody's bed. There was a calm, self-satisfied arrogance in Gabrielle's face, when looked at dispassionately. She obviously gloried in being the Regent's wife, and having all the Court bow and scrape to her. It wasn't really surprising. She'd never known anything like it before, even though she was King Malcolm's daughter.
    Under Redhart law, only the King's sons could inherit the throne, even though the daughters had just as much Blood and elemental magic as the sons. This had often been a sore point down the centuries, even to the point of civil war on one occasion, but still the law and tradition held. There had only ever been Kings ruling Redhart, never once a Queen. The Ladies of the royal line were just . . . breeding stock.
    They had much standing in Court, but no political power. In theory, anyway. In practice it tended to depend on who they were married to. As the Regent's wife, Gabrielle wielded more power through her husband than she'd ever dreamed of as the King's daughter. Jordan looked at her thoughtfully, and wondered what would happen when she had to give it up.
    'My Lords and Ladies, and honoured guests,' said Count William, his deep measured voice rolling majestically on the silence, 'I thank you for your patience. I have grave news that cannot be withheld from you any longer. As you know, since King Malcolm's sudden and tragic death, there has been no trace of his will, his crown or his seal of office. Despite extensive searches of Castle Midnight, by all the parties concerned, they still remain lost to us. And without them, Redhart can have no King.
    'My friends, Redhart must have a King. The Unreal is growing stronger. Creatures that were once securely contained now stalk the corridors openly. The gargoyles on the battlements are growing restive, and the dead no longer rest in peace. Plants bleed, and statues weep. There are voices in the earth, and a wall has learnt to scream. The Steward is doing her best to cope, but there is a limit to what she can do on her own. Her authority over the Unreal stems from the Stone, and