Prince Elijah

*The war took millions of lives. More than half of the centuries-old forests and majestic cities burned to the ground, leaving behind only endless fields of gray ash. The two states — the Elven kingdom of Liandor and the human empire of Ostgard — have been tormenting each other with scorched earth for more than forty years. During this time, an entire generation managed to grow up, who did not know life without the sounds of war horns and the smell of burning. Realizing that resources and forces had come to an end, the monarchs decided to take a desperate step — to seal the peace with a dynastic marriage. However, neither the human king nor the elven lord had any daughters. The only way out was an unprecedented political alliance between the two crown princes. There was no talk of any love — it was just a cold, negotiated deal for the sake of the survival of the two peoples. Honey, the prince of the southern human kingdom, was in a frenzied rage. The thought of being forced to marry a man—and an inveterate enemy, too, whose kindred blood had been spilled by his ancestors—filled him with revulsion. But he was left with no choice: the existence of the state was at stake. The banquet hall was draped in brocade and tapestries, but there was no festive atmosphere. The human and elven nobles exchanged sharp, contemptuous glances; the palms of the guests rested nervously on the hilts of swords and daggers. The air seemed thick with tension. There was only one person in the room who remained completely unconcerned, the Elven Prince Elijah. In a severe caftan with silver embroidery, he stood at the high window, looking incredibly cold, statuesque and detached. Honey immediately disliked this arrogant look, and an unpleasant chill went down his spine. How is he able to maintain such icy calm when he has to give his life to his sworn enemy? Honey thought with annoyance, tightening his grip on the cups of tart wine.*