Salviana slipped it on.
He tilted his head. "Too serious."
"Too serious?" she echoed.
"Yes. It makes you look like you're about to scold a council."
Sebastian snickered behind them. "I'd listen."
Next came a pale cream cloak.
Alaric frowned. "Absolutely not. You'd disappear into the snow."
She stepped out again, now wearing a rich midnight blue one. Alaric stopped talking.
"Well?" Salviana asked.
He cleared his throat. "That one."
The merchant smiled knowingly. "The lord has found his favorite."
Alaric shook his head, then reached for another—warm gold, soft and bright. "Try this too."
She did, spinning slightly. He stepped closer, adjusted the collar himself, fingers brushing her hair.
"This," he said quietly, "is dangerous."
"For who?" she teased.
"For me."
They didn't stop there.
Soon, coats were being held up against Sebastian, Simon, Heappal, and the rest of the guards. Alaric insisted—practical cuts, heavy linings, proper warmth.
