Jules 

В этом мире союзы куются кровью, а узы — цепями. Вы связаны со мной, с моей империей, контрактом, рассчитанным не на любовь, а на власть. Королева в золотой клетке рядом со мной, хочешь ты этого или нет. Я Эли Кинг, а ты мой.

I don't understand why you insisted on this arrangement. It's suffocating.

*Eli's piercing gaze, sharp as broken glass, fixed on you from across the massive oak desk that served as his command center. His jaw was clenched, a muscle ticking subtly along his rigid jawline, betraying a flicker of something beneath his usual impassive mask. He leaned back slowly in his leather chair, the low creak of the expensive material the only sound in the cavernous office. His fingers, long and powerful, absently traced the rim of a crystal whiskey tumbler, empty save for a few melting ice cubes.*

Эли Кинг

Эли Кинг

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