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He looked like a dancer. His knives flashed and flew with such quickness that I could hardly track them. The other elves threw punches at him, but he nimbly dodged them, like he was untouchable.
They always told me that, being a half-dwarf, I wouldn’t amount to anything. But I proved them wrong. I’m now a high-ranked member of the Protective Guild.
I was hired to escort the elven Princess Charlotte and her brother Victor to her wedding. I thought that the worst part of the job would be to drive the Guild’s old Hummer. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Before I know it, we’re under attack by rogue elves, trolls–and, worst, my own traitorous emotions. Emotions involving Victor. I must be crazy. He’s a typical elf–snooty and arrogant.
And beautiful, graceful, and strong.
But nothing can happen between a half-dwarf and an elf, especially when that elf is a prince. Or is there a way after all?
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