There is one very odd choice

Tradition does suggest the next in line to the dutchy of Illenda should be considered. In most cases you would bet that with such a long betrothal and such close families it would simply happen by weight of rumor, supposition and gossip. Everyone would expect and so it would be. Yet this time, even before the funeral, Duchess Illenda sent a letter to both you and your mother formally stating she would not seek and would not endorse a betrothal of you to Anton, her own son.

'She hates him almost as much as my own mother does,' that other bit of you thinks.

It's true. And your father also hated him quite a bit for some reason.

For a second you think of Anton, but then you shake your head. Both your mothers would never allow it, so why bother? He's not the only possibility.

'You're the most eligible woman in the country. Every man you can think of will want you.'

Yes, that's true. You're not just rich and set to inherit a throne but young, charming, pretty and smart too.

'Don't forget humble,' that other bit of you contributes with a derisive snort. 'But just for fun, who's the strangest choice you can think of?'

Hmmm... the strangest. Now that takes some thinking. You could technically marry anyone. But if you want to have fun with this, who's the strangest noble who's unmarried, who your mother would trust to become king, who you could stomach marrying.

You think it will be hard to think of someone, then suddenly count Seranno Verpasin's overly healthy and handsome visage pops into your mind's eye and sticks there. It's true, if you were gambling on the strangest possible suitor he would win that bet. But it's such a funny idea...

'What's so funny? Give the man a proper chance, you owe him that much.'

You feel a little embarrassed. Count Verpasin may be an odd duck but he's never been anything other than nice to you. Mind you, that might be because he's literally old enough to be your father. That said, for 43 years old he's in incredible shape. He actually still does training with men half his age and you were very impressed the times you saw him fight. As a princess you didn't know all the details, but he could just walk around them as if he was out for a stroll. He's ridiculously fast and he's got to have iron hard muscles under those fancy shirts he wears.

'Yeah, he's old but what a body. And in more ways than one.'

He still has almost a full head of hair and only a few of his blonde locks have gone gray, giving him that prized, peppered look of wisdom. He goes on runs every morning. Oh yes. You remember there's a rumor he's never been sick. Not even a common cold. He's so fit the diseases can't affect him. Long runs up and down hills. Sometimes in light armor. He splits wood, not because he doesn't have people to do that for him but because he says it helps tone his arms. And he's an amazing dancer, too.

'Think of him on your wedding night. He could carry you all the way up the stairs from the main hall to your room. He wouldn't even be tired.'

Probably not.

'And then you just lean back and ask what daddy wants to do with his little girl.'

What? You roll back and forth in bed, trying to block that thought. But no, not happening. A quick check between your legs with your finger reveals exactly what you thought you'd find. Your desirous cleft is very wet. You'll never sleep now, not until you do something about it. In the dark you mutter, "Do all women have this problem? Is it just princesses, cooped up in our tower bedrooms?"

'Maybe it's just me,' whispers that voice. 'Maybe all the other princesses are quiet girls and you're the only one who's ****.'

That was possible too. You're sure some young women have the chance to sneak away and have their fun. Otherwise how could there be so many bastards? But not you, no, no. The 'royal sanctum' is supposed to be guarded and uninhabited from now till your wedding night.

'How boring!'

Yes. Worse yet, just a few months ago, when you got all hot and bothered, it was easy to deal with. You just pictured Lucas in your mind's eye and worked away at your thirsting slit until your legs quaked and then you could lie back and rest. But you can't very well... do that when thinking of a dead man. You thump the mattress in frustration. Why couldn't Lucas have just come here six months ago and married you?

You take a moment and try to feel really bad about Lucas for a few minutes, but at the end you're still horny. That other bit in the back of your head just won't leave you be. If you hear Madame Zelande comment that you look tired one more time...

'Just think of Seranno. No one will ever know.'

With some trepidation you lay one finger against your needy loins. You almost picture Sir Arrick again, but quickly divert your mind to Seranno's very pleased looking face. Oh yes, if the count managed to marry you he'd be beaming with happiness. A teen girl for him to tease, seduce and make love to over and over. With his stamina... no you'd never wake in the early hours again. Your dear Seranno would make sure to wear you out so you could sleep the peaceful sleep of the sated.

How big is he down there? Would he really like it if you called him 'daddy'? Your fingers become his fingers and then your legs go rigid as those questing fingers send you over the edge. Your other hand instinctively clamps over your mouth to make sure you don't wake anyone. 'Oh Gods!' you think to yourself. 'How was it so powerful this time?'

'Well,' says that other part of you, 'it has been a while since you took care of yourself. Maybe that old sly fox is just the man for you. It's hot when such a handsome devil robs the cradle.'

Oh my. That seems like a dangerous idea. As you start to drift off you think one last thing: You had best work out which man you're going to end up marrying quickly. Otherwise you'll be dreaming of all the wrong ones.