Ayesha tried her best to keep her expression stoic as she and Alaric slipped out of the royal estate in their disguises.
The night cloaked the carriage as it rolled toward the festival, the faint jingle of the harness and the steady clatter of wheels filling the silence between them.
She sat opposite him, straight-backed and composed in her merchant's outfit, her features hidden beneath the shadow of a hat. Across from her, Alaric lounged in plain servant's clothes, the rough fabric stark against his usual air of power.
"I wonder if anyone will recognize you," she hummed, her voice low but tinged with mischief.
"Not all know my face, Ayesha," he replied with a scoff, tilting his chin slightly. "And who would recognize the Alpha King when he's dressed in rags like this?"
Her composure cracked. A burst of laughter escaped her lips before she could stop it.
