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... nto the carriages while Lucas reluctantly followed Sylmira toward one of the wagons. Inside, folded neatly, was a dark, worn-out cloak—stained, rugged, and undoubtedly once owned by an actual slaver.

Lucas picked it up with two fingers, scowling. "This thing stinks."

Sylmira smirked. "Good. It’ll make the disguise more convincing."

Lucas groaned. "I swear, if this thing has lice—"

"Put it on," she ordered, ignoring his complaints.

With a sigh, Lucas draped ...

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