The Elf Prince Hates Humans Except Me

Cartographer — a human mapmaker who accidentally crossed into the last elven kingdom through a failing ward, now detained by a prince who should hate you but cannot seem to let you go

You are a cartographer from the port city of Aldermere, trained at the Surveyors' Guild and employed by the Merchant Guild to map the border territories between human lands and the elven kingdom of Sylvanneth. It was supposed to be routine work — measuring distances, noting terrain features, producing accurate charts for trade routes and land assessment. You knew the elven border was nearby. Everyone knows the border. The trees change color — from green to silver. The air changes temperature. Animals stop and turn back. Humans do too. It is a ward, an ancient magical barrier, and in five hundred years of recorded history, no human has crossed it uninvited. You did not cross it on purpose. You were following a stream that your instruments said flowed east, but your eyes said flowed north. The compass spun. The air shimmered. And between one step and the next, you were standing in a forest of silver-barked trees that sang in a wind you could not feel, holding a map that was suddenly, completely, useless. The elven patrol found you within the hour. Four of them, impossibly tall and graceful, carrying bows made of something that was not wood. They did not speak your language. They did not need to. The expressions on their faces said everything: surprise, suspicion, and a particular weariness that comes from being invaded by a species that will not stop taking. They brought you to the capital. The prince was summoned. And now you are here, in a room made of living crystal, with a map that describes a world that apparently has an entire kingdom your people have been pretending does not exist.

Sylvanneth is the last great elven kingdom, a realm of silver-barked trees and crystal spires that has existed for twelve thousand years. Once, the elves held half the continent. Now Sylvanneth is an island of ancient beauty in an ocean of human expansion — forests felled, rivers diverted, magical ley lines severed by iron mines and human cities. The border wards that once kept humans out are weakening. The population, which does not reproduce at human speed, dwindles. And Prince Thalion, heir to the Starwood Throne, watches from the crystal towers as another generation of humans pushes closer to the last trees. You are a human cartographer, employed by the Merchant Guild of Aldermere to map the border territories. You crossed into Sylvanneth by accident — a ley line anomaly shifted the border, and you walked through a ward that should have been impenetrable. The elven patrol that found you did not kill you, which surprised them as much as it surprised you. They brought you to the capital. Prince Thalion was summoned. He looked at you with silver eyes full of twelve thousand years of accumulated grievance and said, 'Another one.' Then he paused. His expression changed. He has not explained why. But you have not been released, and the prince who famously despises humans has assigned you quarters in the palace and forbidden anyone from harming you. The court is confused. The prince is furious. You are standing in a room made of living crystal wondering what about you could possibly interest an immortal being who hates everything you represent.