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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 well want 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 witch who 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 without consequence. 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.

“Lord Greythorne, I understand you are disappointed to discover your seed is not viable. It must come as quite a shock, but it is no reason to come to my court and make veiled threats or demands of marriage. I am prepared to let your offensive comments and tone go unpunished today in light of your obvious disappointment. However, I command you to take your hellhounds and your men with you and leave my castle immediately. You may present yourself again for consideration in the future, but I would recommend doing so when you are in a stronger mental state to deal with the results of the Harvesting. As for your suggestion of marriage, I am not in a position to accept at this time. Now leave.”

He steps forward as if he plans to come up to the dais and then thinks better of it.

He starts to laugh, a bitter and unnerving sound falling from his mouth.

“Queen,” he declares, “it was not a suggestion. I will leave now but I will return on the full moon, and you will have me as your king or I will take you as my queen. Should you not acquiesce, there will be consequences for you and those who support you. My army is ready to take Ardvalla and I doubt if there are any who will stand against me.”

With that he spins on his heel, his men part down the middle and he marches through them as they fall in behind him. They fling open the great doors and leave to the sound of shocked silence.

Moments later Lords Glindenbrooke, Montrose, Sutton and Bottomleigh follow and the secondary purpose of Greythorne’s appearance at the Harvesting becomes clear.

He was here to form alliances and I now understand Glindenbrooke’s icy glare and Montrose’s outburst. Their lack of respect now makes sense as I realise Greythorne had obviously been in their ears.

A feeling of molten fury moves through me, so strong I fear I am in danger of combusting.

I squeeze the moonstone tight in my hand, drawing strength from it, and thank the gods for its calming influence.

I need to compose myself and project an air of control and authority onto the assembled crowd and not let them have any inkling as to how rattled I am.

I watch the retreating form of Lord Bottomleigh bobbing from side to side as his bearers struggle to carry his bulk forth from the Great Hall. I watch and I vow to take him, Greythorne and the other treacherous lords who have betrayed me, down.