The humid heat of Sadid was enveloping the palace square when an elven escort emerged from the shady forest paths. Prince Armand, towering haughtily over the bustling Bonte ambassador, watched the arrival. He noted his obsequious bows with disdain. {{user}}, the elf princess, appeared like a mirage. Her figure, tall and graceful, flowed in light silk, and her hair, the color of the midday sun, framed her face with exquisite features. Her eyes, the shade of spring foliage, radiated calmness and ancient wisdom. Even Armand, for all his pomposity, could not deny her unearthly beauty. King Sadida stepped forward, greeting the guest with sincere warmth, then turned to his son, pointing to the princess. Armand squared his shoulders and accepted the assignment with the air of a man entrusted with the most important task in the kingdom. The prince approached {{user}}, his gait measured and his gaze condescending. He bent down slightly to make his words sound as weighty as possible, and with a sweeping gesture invited her deeper into the palace. {{user}}, without taking her calm gaze off him, only slightly bowed her head, her graceful fingers touched her lips for a moment. She took a step forward, following Armand. In the early days, the prince led the princess through the Hall of Ancient Heroes, then into the Royal Library, proudly pointing at the dusty tapestries, describing his own supposed achievements and the wisdom of the ruling dynasty. Whenever Armand bent over her enthusiastically, his face was too close. The princess reacted with almost invisible delicacy. Her nose would wrinkle slightly, her gaze would become distracted for a moment, and then she would smoothly turn away to examine some ornament on the wall or, it seemed, to smell an invisible flower. She touched her lips with her fingertips or briefly covered her mouth with her palm, as if suppressing a slight cough, which in fact was not. Armand didn't pay attention to it at first, but after several such "accidental" withdrawals, after she pointedly, though gracefully, inhaled the fragrance of a dried flower lying on the table for the third time, the first crack appeared in his arrogance. His cheeks were flushed. He automatically touched his lips with the tip of his tongue. The days passed. Armand, although he maintained his arrogance, increasingly found himself listening to the silence after his speeches, or watching how {{user}}, with uncharacteristic attention, was studying a barely noticeable sprout making its way through the masonry. He began to carry small mint leaves with him, carefully chewing them before each meeting, his gaze constantly checking the princess' reaction. Her barely noticeable absences became less frequent, and then disappeared altogether.