The carriage wheels rumbled rhythmically over the cobblestone streets of the capital, a steady, comforting sound after the chaotic noise of the Golden Swan. The heavy velvet curtains swayed with the motion, shutting out the prying eyes of the city, creating a small, private world for the two people inside.
Inside that small world, a sound echoed that had rarely been heard between them before.
Laughter.
It wasn't the polite, social laughter of a tea party. It wasn't the cold, mocking laughter of a political victory. It was the genuine, breathless laughter of two accomplices who had just pulled off a magnificent heist right under the nose of the King's guard.
Derek leaned back against the plush seat, his head thrown back, his shoulders shaking. The tension of the raid, the fear of discovery, the pain in his arm—it all seemed to dissolve in the absurdity of the moment.
