The queen was concerned. Princess Tori was certainly comely enough—she possessed an alluring figure, a charming smile, and a laugh like starlight. She had wit and verve and a family which would add millions to the kingdom’s coffers while strengthening the northern borders. But was she good enough for her boy?

Good enough in bed, she meant. She broached the subject with Chancellor Straith. “I’ve heard those northern women can be cold,” she whispered. “I know I shouldn’t worry, but...”

“I could test her,” Straith returned, stroking his codpiece with offhanded obsequiousness.

“A test, that’s it!” the queen decreed. “Bury a tiny pea beneath her mattress. If she sleeps well, we’ll know she’s not sensitive enough for my son.”

“Place the pea,” she commanded her son upon the wedding’s eve.

“But Ma, I love her!”

“And say nothing to give away the game, lest you give up your bride.”

Sadly, the prince did as he was told. But at bedtime he was bold enough to offer an extra toast to his beloved. “Think of me the whole night through, and for my sake spare not your private chamber pot.”

Tori’s maidens tittered. Tori blushed. The prince kissed her hand and bade her sweet dreams.

No sooner did Tori slip beneath the quilt than images of her lover stole into her imagination whilst the riddle of his words roamed her mind. Soon her hand stole beneath her nightgown. The very finger the prince had kissed slipped between the slippery lips of Tori’s sex, rising moments later, slick with excitement, to touch and test the quivery clit at the apex of her honey pot. Hour after hour Tori caressed her tiny girl-pea. Hour after hour her cries of ecstasy kept the castle awake.

No one slept the next night, either.