Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

sitting here doing nothing. How much longer before I can diplomatically leave?'
    'No more than an hour or so, my love. Now eat your dinner. It's delicious.'
    'I'm not hungry.'
    'Eat it anyway. There are too many rumours of poison going round the Court at the moment, and we can't afford to look timid in front of our guests.'
    William looked unenthusiastically at the platter of roast beef before him. 'Where's the mustard? Can't eat beef without mustard.'
    'Right in front of you, dear.'
    A messenger hurried in through a side door, spotted the Regent at the high table, and hurried over to him. William
    smiled graciously at him, but his pulse quickened. He'd left instructions he wasn't to be disturbed unless it was vitally important. The messenger bowed briefly to him, and then leant forward to murmur in his ear.
    'A Captain Doyle to see you, my lord. He says it's urgent.'
    'Doyle?'
    'One of the Steward's men, my lord.'
    'Bring him in. I'll talk to him.'
    The messenger hurried away, and William settled back in his chair, frowning in spite of himself. He knew he wasn't supposed to look worried in front of his guests, but of late the Steward seemed to have only bad news for him. It wasn't her fault, of course, but more and more he had to fight down an urge to shout and rant at her for letting things get so out of hand . . . William rubbed tiredly at his aching eyes. Had the Unreal broken through again? And if so, what did Taggert expect him to do about it? He'd already given her carte blanche to do whatever she thought necessary to protect the Castle. The messenger returned with the guard Captain, and William looked him over dubiously. Doyle had to be the scruffiest guard he'd ever seen. The man was a disgrace to his uniform. Doyle came to a halt beside the Regent, and gestured with his head for the messenger to leave. The messenger looked at William, who nodded. Doyle waited till the messenger was out of earshot before speaking, and William felt his tension build.
    'Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, my lord,' said Doyle quietly, 'but Count Penhalligan and his family are dead.'
    'Dead?' William looked at the guard blankly. Richard Penhalligan had always been one of his closest friends and his staunchest supporter. 'You're sure?'
    'I'm afraid so, my lord.'
    'And his family? Even the children?'
    'Yes, my lord. The Unreal broke through in their chambers. It was very sudden. There was nothing anyone could have done. We used a Sanctuary to put the room back to rights, but the Penhalligans were long dead by the time we got to them.'
    'I see,' said William. 'Thank you for keeping me informed. Perhaps you could start arrangements for their burial.'
    'I'm afraid not, my lord.' Doyle's voice was rough, as always, but there was an honest compassion there as well. 'There isn't enough left of them to bury. We did everything we could . . .'
    'I'm sure you did.' William looked away from the guard. He suddenly felt very tired. His family were all dead and gone, and he'd lost most of his real friends in Malcolm's bloody campaigns. Richard Penhalligan had been the last, a brave knight and a cunning politician. He played the dulcimer badly, and always knew the latest jokes. And now he was gone, like all the others. William looked back at the waiting guard.
    'Where is the Steward now?' '
    'Up on the roof, my lord, dealing with the gargoyles.'
    'Tell her I'd like to see her, when she has a spare moment. It's not important, but I would like to see her.'
    'Yes, my lord.'
    Captain Doyle sketched him a quick bow, and scurried away. William watched him go. Not all that long ago, it had been the custom for rulers to execute those who brought them bad news. William could understand why. There was a sick, hollow anger churning within him, and he wanted to lash out at
    someone, anyone, but he knew he couldn't. He had to appear calm and controlled at all times, even when he was falling apart inside. His followers expected it of him. Damn them. He leant back in his chair, and wished that he could leave. He was tired; he was always tired, these days. He was so tense he couldn't ever relax, and what little sleep he got didn't refresh him. Gabrielle did her best to help and support him, but there wasn't really anything she could do. He looked across at her, and saw she was looking at him concernedly. He managed a small smile for her.
    'Don't worry, my love. I'm all right. Just thinking.'
    'About Richard? I am sorry, William.'
    'I know. I'll miss him,