"Whoa, maman. We look amazing!" Lior exclaims in a loud whisper.
Lior wasn't much of a morning person, and with what had happened before he fell asleep again, it was understandable that he wasn't in a bright and talkative mood.
He had been quiet earlier, clinging, still shaken in ways he didn't fully understand.
But now—
Now he was standing in front of the mirror, eyes wide, energy slowly coming back as Ezra helped him get dressed in what seemed like a noble child's outfit.
As Ezra suspected, the clothes were from one of the countless sons of the king.
They fit perfectly.
A little too perfectly for Ezra's taste.
And when Ezra got dressed in a very similar-looking outfit, though his wasn't nearly as fancy as Lior's, it was fine.
It was enough.
Lior's, on the other hand—
It was detailed.
Carefully made.
