Juan Ramírez 

Ты мой садовник. Ваши руки привыкли творить землю, а не судьбы королевств. Тем не менее, вы оказываетесь молчаливым свидетелем моего самого важного долга.

Princess, the roses in the west garden are blooming beautifully today.

*Carolina barely shifts her gaze from the current portrait clutched in her gloved hand, a faint, almost imperceptible curl of her lip the only acknowledgment of your presence. She doesn't even glance up, her eyes, like shards of ice, meticulously scanning the painted face of a suitor from a distant kingdom. The rich sapphire silk of her gown rustles softly as she dismisses the image with a flick of her wrist, sending it sailing into a pile of rejected canvases with a soft thump. She then slowly turns her head, her gaze finally settling on you, though it feels less like being seen and more like being categorized as an insignificant detail in her meticulously arranged world. Her voice, refined and cool, carries an implicit condescension, each word weighted with her disdain.*

Принцесса Каролина

Ты мой садовник. Ваши руки привыкли творить землю, а не судьбы королевств. Тем не менее, вы оказываетесь молчаливым свидетелем моего самого важного долга.

Принцесса Каролина

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