Page 6 of Of Blood & Bone: The Young Queen

During his audience with me he insisted the Master of the Grand Council and Myreena confirm my virginity. Whilst prospective suitors are entitled to ask such a question none of them ever dare, and his insistence on this matter leads me to believe my power and virginal status are all he's interested in. I suspect once he has deflowered me his interest in me as a woman will wane in favour of his private harem. This wouldn’t be a cause for concern except for the fact it’s hard to conceive a child if you are not actually being intimate. And conceiving a child will be one of the most important tasks ahead of me as Queen.

Third on my right is the rat-like Lord Crottingham. Tall and skinny, his hair falls about his head in dark brown wisps and this, along with the unfortunate protrusion of his top front teeth and accompanying wispy moustache, gives him the appearance of a rat. This is not helped by his annoying habit of constantly rubbing his hands together in front of his face. By rights, as the poorest of the Highborne lords, he should be last in line, closest to the door. However, the Crottinghams are practiced in the art of networking and making important connections. Their sinister influence is felt throughout the realm and beyond, and it's no coincidence his uncle is the master of the Grand Council. Strategic alliances through marriage have been their operational mainstay, and many a young Crottingham lady has found herself married off to a lord either much older than herself or of questionable character.

Lord Murray Crottingham is here today to make a play for the ultimate marriage alliance and the air of confidence he has about him makes me feel uneasy. I can't understand why he is feeling so confident, as my discreet investigations into himdidn't uncover any proof of virility, such as illegitimate children or pregnant maidens. The only reason I can think of is that he has cooked up some way to cheat the harvesting process with his uncle. Should I confirm this is the case I will launch a full investigation before agreeing to any marriage proposal and I will insist he submits to a second test – this time in my presence.

Finally, fourth on my left and closest to the doors is Lord Greythorne. Of all the positions of the lords in the Great Hall, none is more misleading, in terms of the pecking order, than his. He may come from the least abundant province, with mountainous lands covered in scrubby heathers, stones and the scraggy greythorn tree from which he gets his name, but there can be no doubt he is the most dangerous man in the castle, if not the entire realm.

His lands are located in the outermost reaches of the realm and, whereas the land itself is poor, his province is strategically located with a large border stretching alongside other realms. The Greythornes came to realise they could use this to their advantage and built a small army to patrol the border. They have done so over the years with a vicious ruthlessness that has gained them a reputation not only within Ardvalla, but other realms.

This reputation has resulted in them being hired by other lords and even rulers in other realms to provide military services, especially of a more unpalatable nature. Their signature style of operation is stealth followed by a deadly strike. The Greythorne army and its services have been greatly expanded upon since the latest Lord Greythorne, Lord Rufus, came to power, and it has given me no small cause for concern. Despite the assurances of the grand Council that no lord would dare send his army against the ruler of the realm, I have taken a few precautionary measures. Looking down now from mythrone at the show of dominance and strength Lord Greythorne is putting on in my Great Hall, I am glad I have done so.

He stands at the head of his retinue, clothed head to toe in black warcloth and leather, almost as if he is battle ready. The leather is studded with pointed silver spikes and a specially crafted Cragmore sword hangs at his side. He is flanked by two of the ugliest hellhounds I have ever seen, and on his shoulder sits a beady-eyed greycrow. His sigil, of the scraggy greythorne tree is featured on no less than eight banners. His men, all similarly attired, stand behind him, faces forward and unblinking. There must be at least sixty of them. There's no doubt this is a show of force and a sense of unease ripples through me.

Suddenly, as if sensing my discomfort, he turns his head and catches my gaze, his dark eyes two cold flints. His mouth is still the cruel slit it was when we last met and the years have done nothing to soften his expression – if anything he looks meaner and more heartless than ever before. I think back to the last time I saw him, seven years ago in the castle garden, and how he tried to press those lips upon mine. I recall his fury as I writhed out of his grasp and pushed him away. I can still hear his words as I summoned my guards to have him removed from the garden.

“You may believe I am nothing but the poorest and lowest of the Ardvallan lords, not good enough to kiss your precious lips, but one day I will be king, and you will submit to me.”

A chill passes through me at the recollection and it intensifies at the slight curl of Greythorne’s upper lip as he stares me down. It's as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking and believes his chance to make those words come true has finally arrived. I feel faint at the prospect and squeeze the moonstone hard in my hand.

Why, oh why can't a man like the warrior from my dream exist in real life?I lament silently to myself. If such a man were to present himself to me right now I would throw myself at his feet and beg him to become my king, rather than choose any of the pathetic options currently standing in the Great Hall of my castle.

The Grand Master finally finishes his speech and the trumpets sound again to herald the arrival of the maidens of the Harvesting.

There are fourteen of them in all and they are led to the front of the dais by Myreena. They are referred to as maidens only in so far as they remain unmarried, not for their virtuous characters. They have been selected from a variety of backgrounds but have a number of factors in common – notably their beauty, comely figures and training in the sexual arts.

Their job is to extract the seed from each of the prospective suitors and it's not a job I would wish upon my worst enemy. However, it occurs to me that whilst the maidens only spend a short amount of time with these lords, I may have to spend a lifetime with one of them. And their seed will be going inside me instead of into a vial.

There are fourteen of them, as each lord is harvested by two maidens at the same time and the process is overseen by a Master Healer such as Myreena. This was the failsafe put in place by my grandmother to mitigate against anyone trying to cheat or bribe their way through the Harvesting, and why I fail to understand the conspiratorial look between the Master of the Grand Council and his nephew, Lord Crottingam.

On the morning of the Harvesting, each lord is visited in his chambers by a Master Healer and two maidens. The maidens then proceed to put their sexual expertise to work upon the lord in question and “extract” his seed. It is placed in a vial, put under guard and kept safe until the ceremony. I’ve no doubt theextraction process is the favourite part of the Harvesting for the lords. The next part most definitely isn’t.

The trumpets sound again and Myreena steps forward, followed by the two maidens at the top of the line.

“Lord Sutton, please step forward,” she commands.

Lord Sutton steps forward.

Myreena addresses him. “Lord Henry Sutton, you have presented yourself here today for the purpose of the Harvesting, to see if your seed is viable and if, therefore, you may be considered as a prospective suitor for Queen Elinor. Is this correct?”

Lord Sutton nods."It is."

Myreena continues, “And are you here of your own free will without duress from any other person or party?”

Sutton nods again. “I am.”

Myreena turns to the maidens and takes a vial from one of their hands. The other maiden holds a plain earthenware bowl.

“Lord Sutton,” Myreena says in a voice that echoes throughout the Great Hall, “I have here in this vial your seed, harvested from you this morning by these two maidens here before me. Do I have your permission to go ahead and perform the test?”

“You do,” he replies, his disdain from earlier replaced with a noticeable quiver of nervousness in his voice.

A master healer comes forward with a bejewelled glass bottle on a silver tray. Myreena removes the stopper and places a few drops of precious pennyweed into the earthenware bowl. She then empties the vial of Lord Sutton’s seed into the bowl.

An anticipatory silence falls over the Great Hall and all anyone can hear is the laboured breathing of Greythorne’s hellhounds. Except for me, as I can mostly hear the pounding of my own heart as I await the verdict on Lord Sutton’s seed and whether or not I will have to entertain him as a prospectivesuitor for my hand. I know it's only been a few seconds, but I can hardly bear to wait any longer when Myreeena looks Lord Sutton in the eye and makes her pronouncement.

“Lord Henry Sutton, your seed is not viable at this time and you may not present yourself as a prospective suitor to Queen Elinor. Please step back and stay in your place for the remainder of the ceremony.”

There's an audible gasp from the gathered crowd and Lord Sutton looks visibly shocked as he takes a step back and stands once again in front of his retinue. A feeling of relief washes over me and I feel the pounding of my heart start to ease. Then Myreena calls Gosford's name and I realise perhaps Lord Sutton might have been the best suitor out of the whole pathetic bunch.

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