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Second on my left is the enormous Lord Bottomleigh.

The Bottomleighs are renowned for their wealth.

Their lands are vast and mostly located in the lowlands.

The lush fields are criss-crossed with rivers and forests and there is nothing that doesn't grow or live there.

It is often referred to as the garden of Ardvalla and is responsible for much of the food that supplies the realm, and none are known to enjoy the bounty of their province more so than the Bottomleighs themselves.

I have the questionable pleasure of the eldest son, Lord Archibald Bottomleigh, presenting himself as a possible suitor today.

He is the only one who is not standing as he has been borne to the ceremony by a number of bearers upon an ornate sedan chair.

In addition to being known for their great wealth, the Bottomleighs are also renowned for their incredible laziness.

It would seem, as far as they are concerned, endless wealth and abundance does not lend itself to unnecessary physical exertion.

However, I have reason to believe there is one physical activity in which the male Bottomleighs regularly indulge and are quite capable of abusing their positions as lords in order to do so.

Lord Archibald’s grandfather was a prominent ‘blamer,’ declaring the falling birth rate to be the fault of Ardvallan women.

His solution to the problem was more sex and to demand that the women of his province submit themselves without question when a husband, suitor or lover sought to sow his seed.

This very quickly got out of hand and resulted in many women fleeing the province with tales of rape and abuse.

It got to the point where my grandmother had to intervene, and it was only the threat of losing his lands and castle that made Lord Archibald’s grandfather retract his words.

However, it is widely believed he continued with his abusive ways in private, as did his son, Archibald’s father, who in turn passed the tradition on to his son, Lord Archibald.

He sits before me now, being waited upon by a number of maidens.

They are dressed in the traditional attire of the province, with full skirts cinched in at the waist and fitted blouses on top.

However, there is one crucial difference, the necks of the blouses are cut low, so low the maidens’ breasts are nearly fully on show with the darkened areas of their nipples peeking out as they move.

Archibald sits there with a leery grin on his face, helping himself to various fruits from a platter one of the maidens holds in front of him.

The juice of a ripe damson runs down his face and another maiden appears at his side to wipe his chin.

He fondles her buttocks as she does so and leers lustily at her.

When she straightens, he places his hand on her stomach and it’s then I notice the rounded protrusion of her belly.

She’s with child. He throws a gloating look around the Great Hall, pausing to deliver a self-satisfied smirk to each of the other lords and then grins up at me.

His message is clear – the Harvesting is merely a formality for him as he has brought proof that his seed is good.

A wave of nausea washes over me at the prospect of ever having to lie with Lord Archibald and I squeeze the moonstone tight in my hand. I thank the gods for its presence as it’s the only source of comfort available to me today.

Second on my right is Lord Roderick Glindenbrooke.

With his white-blond hair and piercing blue eyes he is definitely the most handsome of the current crop of prospective suitors, but during his audience with me I also found him to be the coldest. The Glindenbrookes are from the northernmost part of the realm where the mountain peaks are dusted with snow for most of the year.

The people are known for their taciturn and suspicious nature and outsiders rarely do well there, finding it hard to gain acceptance with the province’s tribes.

I could easily have put his frigid nature down to the fact he is from Cragmore province, but I felt there was something more at play.

I have since made some discreet inquiries and can't help wondering if the rumours about him are true, that he prefers the company of men, not only at his table but also in his bed chamber.

Whereas Cragmore province is the smallest in the realm and its terrain the least abundant, it has one major element in its favour, silver.

Its mountains are full of it, and it’s said the rivers there shimmer like a vision from a fairytale in the summer sunshine.

The skills of its silversmiths and blacksmiths are legendary and it's said a sword inlaid with Cragmore silver is unbreakable.

It is for this reason Lord Glindenbrooke is placed so close to my throne today, as he has amassed a fortune, not only from the sale of silver, but by supplying Cragmore swords to other realms. They are highly sought-after by the rulers of other realms who have paid handsomely to put them in the hands of their soldiers.

He stands at the head of his retinue, made up entirely of men, staring straight ahead with his back ramrod straight, his chilly, aloof demeanour reflected in the rigid set of his jaw and icy eyes.

I imagine he would see lying with me as being solely a perfunctory task for him to perform, a cold and clinical act, and I shiver at the possibility of having to share my bed with him.

Third on my left is Lord Montrose. He’s older than some of the other suitors but not as old as Gosford, and has never married.

He is vastly wealthy and spends much of his time travelling to other realms, which is reflected in his manner of dress.

He is decked out in a collection of silk and satin, wearing a long coat of red and gold brocade that starts with a high collar at his neck and falls to below his knees.

It’s buttoned all the way down and the buttons are made from rare golden pearls.

His yellow silk pants fall loosely about his legs and his shoes are more like slippers, with an ornate golden tassel in the centre of each.

His entourage is made up of a mix of men and women and he stands in front of them with a smile on his face, as if he is privy to a secret not known to anyone else in the Great Hall.

However, I suspect I know his secret and I will have confirmation before the sun sets.

I have it on good authority that Lord Montrose travels not just to do trade and business, but also to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with more exotic and duskier skinned maidens than he can find in Ardvalla.

I also have reason to believe he has brought a number of these maidens back to Ardvalla in secret and keeps them captive within the confines of his palace.

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 him didn'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.