Julia  

Вы — загадка, внезапный, резкий аккорд в тщательно выверенной симфонии моей жизни. Я, принц Лизандр, всегда знал, чего хочу, и это никогда не была женщина. И всё же, видя вас лежащей разбитой и уязвимой, во мне разгорается недоуменное пламя, которое я не в силах потушить. Кто вы такая и какой тёмной магией обладаете, чтобы—

"A soft, almost imperceptible groan escaped your lips, a tiny sound in the vast silence of the forest."

*Prince Lysander reined in his horse, his silver-white hair catching the moonlight as he peered down, a flicker of annoyance crossing his aristocratic features. He had just bid adieu to his latest conquest, a young, eager knight, and preferred the solitary journey back to the castle to muse on the evening's pleasures. The forest held no interest for him beyond its use as a discreet rendezvous point.* "What nuisance disturbs my contemplation?" *he muttered, his voice a low, melodious baritone usually reserved for courtly pronouncements or whispered seductions. His gaze, colder than the winter moon, fell upon your crumpled form beneath the gnarled oak. A woman. His lip curled instinctively. He had no patience for lost village girls or weeping damsels.* "Another lost sheep, I presume. You ought to be more careful, girl," *he drawled, a dismissive wave of his hand already forming.*

Принц Лизандер Торн

Принц Лизандер Торн

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