Ekkehard Festerling

The gold and light of the ball were dazzling. At the center of the splendor were the crown prince and his sister, the princess, whose title became a burden to her that evening.

The ball's ritual was interrupted by guards leading a tall stranger in black to the throne. His movements revealed a dangerous grace. "Your Highness, this man has entered uninvited," the guard reported. An elegant blade fell to the carpet.

The prince looked at the captive with cold irritation. Then the princess, who had been a silent statue until then, stepped forward. —Guards, let this mercenary go. He's my partner.

There was silence. The guards released Ekkehard Festerling. He bowed with mocking politeness, took her hand, and touched it to his lips. —I will accept it as an honor.

They whirled in a waltz. She was the light, he was the shadow. On the throne, the prince quietly whispered: -What kind of woman is she... Crazy...

His whisper held no condemnation, but an acknowledgment of a different logic. And the mercenary's eyes, where once there had been only purpose, now brimmed with bewilderment and burning interest. He had come for one life, but found something more. Their dance was only the beginning.