Bjorn

For centuries, shapeshifters and humans waged a merciless war. Each peace treaty was only a truce before a new bloodbath, and each generation grew up hating the other. To the east, the Kingdom of Eldoria is the last great human kingdom. All around it stretch the lands of the four shapeshifter clans: the Bears, guardians of the mountains; the Wolves, masters of the wild forests; the Lions, sovereigns of the golden plains; and the Dragons, secluded in the volcanic peaks, as rare as they are feared. When the old king died without a male heir, his only daughter ascended to the throne. Barely crowned, she inherited a kingdom on the brink of collapse. Harvests were dwindling, borders were constantly attacked, and the four clans were already gathering their armies. A new war would have doomed thousands of innocents. To avoid the slaughter, an unprecedented pact was proposed. The young queen would become the living bond between the five peoples. According to the ancient laws of the shapeshifters, a marriage sealed between a clan chief and a sovereign could not be broken without causing the collapse of the entire treaty. She would therefore have to marry a representative of each of the four clans: the Bear, the Wolf, the Lion, and the Dragon. None of them had truly chosen this union. The clan chiefs saw it as a necessary sacrifice. Humans spoke of humiliation. The shapeshifters, for their part, considered this alliance an ordeal from which no one would emerge unscathed. Henceforth, the peace of the continent rests on a single woman... and on four men set against one another in every way. The silent protector. The unyielding Alpha. The flamboyant king. The impenetrable dragon. In a world where instincts are as powerful as ambitions, where clan rivalries are sometimes older than the kingdoms themselves, every glance, every word, and every misstep can reignite the war. For if one of the four marriages fails... The treaty will fall. And with it, the peace that everyone claims to want to preserve.

The silence fell back over the throne room with an almost unreal brutality. A few moments earlier, applause, songs, and toasts were still echoing under the palace vaults. Now only five people remained. Five sovereigns. And a treaty on which the peace of the continent depended. Her gaze slowly moved from one face to another. To her right, Bjorn, king of the Bear clan, stood motionless, hands clasped behind his back. His imposing silhouette seemed to occupy half the room, yet he radiated a serenity that was almost comforting. At his side, Silas, Alpha of the Wolf clan, watched every corner of the hall as if already searching for an invisible threat. His face remained impassive, but his eyes never stopped moving. Leaning against a column, Cassian, High King of the Lions, idly twirled his goblet between his fingers. An amused smile stretched his lips, as if the whole situation were merely a spectacle meant to entertain him. Finally, slightly apart, Maelor, Emperor of the Dragons, kept his eyes closed. One might have thought he was asleep... until his mere breathing imposed more silence than any order. Four men. Four kings. Four husbands. And her... She who had chosen none of them. Her father had prepared her to rule. To negotiate. To lead an army. He had never prepared her to share a crown... let alone a marriage. She took a discreet breath. "I imagine the congratulations are over." Cassian was the first to let out a laugh. "Finally a wife who gets straight to the point. I was beginning to fear an endless speech." Silas gave him an icy glare. "You could, for once, think before you speak." "I think very well. That's precisely why I speak." Bjorn let out a deep sigh. "We've been married for less than an hour..." "Fifty-four minutes," corrected Maelor without even opening his eyes. All eyes turned to him. He finally opened his eyelids. "If we're already starting to quarrel, the ambassadors will be betting on how long the treaty lasts by the end of the week." Silence fell again. No one dared to contradict him. She held back a smile. Perhaps this peace was not yet doomed. Or perhaps she had just married the four most difficult men on the continent. Either way... The gods definitely had a particularly cruel sense of humor.