Page 8 of Of Blood & Bone: The Young Queen

Ten Highborne lords put themselves forward back in the spring Harvesting and none of them were successful. Only seven lords have presented themselves here today and so far it's looking as if there will be no prospective suitors. Not too many Highborne lords remain, and I wonder how many of them will be willing to put themselves through this process and risk humiliation. Then, what do I do? Invite Middleborne lords to participate? Some of them are just as wealthy and successful as their Highborne peers, but this move would be unprecedented. No member of the monarchy has ever married anything other than a lord or lady from the ranks of the Highbornes. Also, the problem remains that the Middleborne lords may prove to be just as infertile as the Highbornes.

However, the rising tension as the ceremony has proceeded can’t be denied, and the danger of humiliating all the lords in the realm is looking like a much bigger problem than previously thought. And Crottingham and Greythorne, arguably the two most dangerous lords in the whole realm, haven’t even been processed yet.

My head starts to hurt and I squeeze the moonstone hard in my hand.

There is another way…

The words from my dream echo in the recesses of my mind again and I scowl in frustration. Another way?I think furiously.Well, if there’s another way then it would bloody wellwant to hurry up and present itself to me as I am fast running out of options!

Myreena’s voice sounds throughout the Great Hall and pulls my attention back to the matter at hand.

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

Crottingham steps forward, a smug smirk on his face. Myreena pours his seed into the earthenware bowl with the pennyweed, and I and the assembled gathering wait. The minutes drag on and I can see from Myreena’s expression that something is not quite right. She pulls her eyes away from the bowl and looks Lord Crottingham directly in the eye. He continues to stand before her with that self-satisfied smirk on his face. She looks back into the bowl and smiles and I don't know whether this is because his seed has proven viable or not.

“Lord Crottingham,” she announces, “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.”

The smirk disappears from Crottingham’s face and is replaced with a look of sheer disbelief.

“What?” he screeches, as he lunges for the maiden holding the bowl and grabs it from her hands. It falls to the floor and shatters, breaking into a thousand pieces, and a grey, lifeless liquid spreads over the ancient flagstones. “This can't be,” he declares, as he looks down at the irrefutable evidence his seed is no good. He then looks up to the dais and glares at his uncle, his eyes asking,What went wrong? I am no longer in any doubt that the two of them had something cooked up between them but I’m relieved they didn't manage to pull their trickery off.

The guards move forward and pull him back in line with his retinue and Myreena reminds him the results of the Harvesting are irrefutable. He glares at her as if she is a witchwho has performed an unseen spell upon his seed, but wisely stays silent.

Finally, she calls Lord Greythorne’s name and I take a large, nervous breath. He steps forward and she proceeds to ask him the questions she has asked all the others.

“Lord Rufus Greythorne, 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?”

Geythorne looks straight ahead and curtly replies, “It is.”

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

He gives Myreena a cold look and declares, “I am.”

She tests his seed as she has tested that of the six lords preceding him, and I find I can hardly breathe. The tension in the air crackles around me like the kindling of a fire and I feel all it will take is a tiny extra spark to turn it into an inferno.

Mercifully, we don't have to wait too long for the result.

“Lord Greythorne,” Myreena announces,” 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 closing of the ceremony.”

Greythorne doesn’t move and I can see he is taking a number of deep breaths. Myreena opens her mouth to speak, and he raises his hand and places it in front of her face.

“Be quiet, Healer,” he commands and then he turns and faces the dais, his venomous eyes fixed firmly on me.

“You bring us here, the noble lords of Ardvalla, and seduce us with your maidens and the prospect of being your king. You extract our seed and then use it to humiliate us in front of the assembled crowd, as if we were mere bulls in the fields, only fit for breeding. You think you can do all this withoutconsequence. Well, Queen, I am here to tell you otherwise.” He pauses, his voice in danger of cracking with rage.

My guards already have their hands on their swords and are ready to move at my command. He clicks his fingers, and his hellhounds fall into place either side of him and his men form a number of fighting columns at his back. Each one raises the sleeve on his right arm and each one is branded with the Greythorne sigil, marking them as his elite soldiers. The message is clear, if my guards make a move against him, slaughter will ensue.

This is the spark.

He smiles, forming that nasty contortion of his lips unique to him and continues with his speech. “I declare the Harvesting a ridiculous sham and demand your hand in marriage.”

Shock ripples through the hall and there is a collective intake of breath. My guards start to move and unsheathe their swords. I stay them with my hand.

Greythorne takes this as a sign to continue with his rant. “I guarantee you will be with child before the first moon of our marriage. I have progeny in more realms than I can count, and you are as any other maiden. That is, of course, if you are fertile.”

He spits the words forth and I shudder at the prospect of ever being taken by him. I am sure he would submit me to all sorts of humiliations in order to break me and make me subservient to his will. He hates me and everything I stand for. I understand that now. He hates that a woman is above him in the social rankings and is not only his ruler, but the ruler of the whole realm.

I rise from my throne and walk to the front of the dais. I look down on him and know, as much as I might want to, I cannot rise to his provocation. I will not give him cause to turn the Harvesting into a bloodbath.

---