Tonight, we are going to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Also, tonight young men are going to ask for my hand in marriage, and I will be allowed to choose one. As I swirl pomade into my hair and then slick it into a towering bun, I dream about the young men who will be there. Perhaps one of them will take me in his arms and say that I am his one and only love, and I will marry him right on the spot. Or, the more likely scenario, I will push him away and run to my room in a flood of angry tears. Miss Perugia says that I am immature and ludicrous, and there are some times when I agree with her. But not right now.
A small bell clangs in my room. This means that I am to head down to the banquet hall. Nervous butterflies have somehow crept into my stomach, and they are so big that I think they may be small dragons instead. I clasp a tiny purple flower into my coiffure, and then open my door. The hallways in the palace are all carpeted and full of artwork. The hall outside of my chambers has several busts of old kings. One of them still has white paint over the mustache I gave him in ink-paste a few years ago. That was how I discovered that mixing gum paste with ink ruins statues and hair. I tried to dye my blonde friend Lila’s hair dark like mine. I think she is still (six years later) fixing her burnt-looking, gummy hair. Poor Lila.

I walk into the banquet hall. I wish that I could say I made an appearance, but I did not. The sad truth is that I am very short. Only about five feet tall. I actually doubt that anyone saw me. My chair behind the dais is on a bit of a pedestal; otherwise I would disappear behind the table. My father beams at me when I sit down, and then he bangs his goblet on the table.
"Everyone," he says, "today we are here to celebrate the birthday of my daughter. Please rise for Her Royal Majesty, the Princess Lorelei Sourbern, Vis-Countess of Dorland, Duchess of La Sournia. Lore, will you stand please?"
I oblige him and stand. "Thank you so much, everyone, for coming to my birthday banquet. Tonight, I also have to pick a husband from a very handsome lineup of five young men my own age. I implore that you be happy for whomever I choose, for inter-kingdom rancor has never led to anything good."

A few laughs. I turn and study the five men who are my suitors. Their names are Prince Everett, Sir Traice, Lord Pinnuppy, Viscount Peicok, and Duke Jasper. Prince Everett is of the Green Dragon Kingdom, with which we have always had a turbulent relationship. I've met him before, and my first impression has not changed: He is a slimy creature indeed. He is always making rather unwelcome advances, and I'm not sorry to say that I've elbowed him more than once. He is rather handsome, but he has the air of one who knows it and hears it entirely too often. He has long black hair that seems almost feathery and stubble along his chin. Imagine me being old enough to marry a man with stubble! His skin is rather pale, so it has a stony gray appearance to it. Sir Traice is a Rider knight whom I am well-acquainted with, and he gives me a wave. I have always delighted in seeing him, and I love to show off my Rider training in front of him. Lord Pinnuppy has drooping trousers. His real name is Lord Pinuprulo, but he is Pinnuppy to everyone because his trousers severely need a pin-up. His face, which is quite droopy, could also use some extra support. Viscount Peicok has short brown hair that he keeps fluffing. He seems very conceited. He has strong arms and legs and is wearing a highly inappropriate suit of clothes that include short pants and a blouse with the sleeves torn off. Duke Jasper is a man much older than my own self, he must be at least thirty! He has blond hair that he appears fond of overmuch, and my inner child cannot help but wonder how he would feel if I mixed gum paste and ink into his hair soap.

I look about at everyone else here. There's the usual assortment of nobility and trade workers and peasants. We have to invite everyone. We don't need any villager uprisings, although I hear that they are a delightful thing to watch. I also see the table of my special friends. Mage, the handsome blacksmith's boy who I used to drool over; Lila, who wears a hat to conceal her still-gummy hair and I suspect is currently the subject of Mage's affection; Giorgio and his sister Allegra, from the Itali peninsula; Diana the baker's daughter; Federico, the son of the butcher who is currently courting Diana. I have an odd collection of compatriots, but I wouldn't trade them for the highest-up royal cheese-puffs on the scale.
The entire staff of serving maids and waiters parade in, each with a silver tray. On each tray is a bowl made of bread and filled with squash bisque. Full of cream and seasonings, this is my favorite soup. I dig in, being careful not to spill orange soup all over myself. I'm not sure that I will be at my most attractive while wearing my first course. I can hear the suitors conversing in loud voices, comparing achievements and toasting one another. I told Father that it was a bad idea to serve the good Greckan ale at the suitor's table, but he didn't listen.

The entire supper is quite delightful. Everyone is busy making friendly conversation, and I think that I see Mage and Lila edging slowly closer to one another. The dessert course is now being brought out. We have exotic fruits and pastries and delicious cakes shaped like ships with little almond-paste people on them. I eat very little of mine, even though the ship cakes are my favorite. I love the moist, nut-studded cake soaked in brandy and drizzled in rich royal icing. I'm worried that I may throw up if someone reacts badly about who I choose. I'm quite afraid that I may vomit up my chicken and cornmeal cake. With shaking legs, I stand. My stomach is turning, my heart is pounding, and I worry I might faint.
"In the hopes that sugar has put you in a better mood, I waited until the dessert course was done to announce whom I have chosen."
A little more laughter. Laughter is good, I think. "All of the suitors are, erg, delightful. However, I could only choose one. Sir Traice, can you please stand?"
Actually, when I'm being honest with myself, it was quite easy to choose. Prince Everett is a barracuda of a man, too slippery to ever get a feel of. I'd rather not marry Lord Pinuprulo, a man who would need his pants fixed every few moments. The viscount is out of the question, for I would never even consider a man who wore such revealing clothes. And the duke is far too old for me. Almost everyone applauds. Prince Everett looks at me. It's hard for me to describe the emotion in his eyes. It is fury, and disappointment, and a strange sort of hunger. I know how to read expressions, so what I could see was frightening. I feel a bit of bile rising in my throat at the thought of his anger. Sir Traice rises from his seat and walks up to join me at the dais. He sits down in the throne next to me. My father stands. "All hail Sir Traice Velmaco, the someday king of the Red Dragon Kingdom!"
Most people hail. The rest of the suitors boo and screech until they have to be brought out of the hall by armored guards. I rise, curtsy to the people (my subjects!), and then walk out and through the halls, heading towards my chambers. Once I am in my own bedroom, I change into a soft linen shift and bed-slippers. My shift is a beautiful thing, soft and warm with thin white ribbon. My slippers are more like fluffy cream boots, with little tassels. I re-plait my hair and blow out my candle and lay down in my bed. My soft velvet sheets keep me fairly warm, even in wintertime. A thin plume of smoke drifts throught the night air from the candle stub, and I can hear revelers outside in the village. My eyes feel heavy, and I let them close.