Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle
Chapter 72: Sit On It.

Chapter 72: Sit On It.

Sorayah was beyond dumbfounded, standing frozen as she tried processing Dimitri’s words . As much as she wanted to argue, he was right. Charging into the werewolf city armed to the teeth would only guarantee a swift and brutal death, likely before they even reached the gates.

But to survive, they need to appear harmless. Going in weak, vulnerable even, gave them a better chance of slipping through unnoticed.

Her lips parted, but no words came at first as she was lost of words. Then finally, with a reluctant sigh of resignation, she nodded.

"Okay," Sorayah muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I understand you."

Without a moment’s delay, Liam turned and walked a few paces behind the hill, returning with a cloth sack slung over his shoulder. He tossed it toward her with calculated precision, the bag landing at her feet with a muted thud.

You...

Sorayah wanted to curse at him for the ride behavior but then she controlled herself, her fist tightly clenched beside her.

"You should go ahead and change into the female outfit first," Liam instructed coolly, his piercing gaze as unreadable as ever. "Then His Highness and I will get into ours. Remember, you need to give this performance everything you’ve got. One slip and you risk being exposed and killed."

His tone was as cold and sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Sorayah swallowed hard, her throat dry. A thousand questions tangled on the tip of her tongue like what else was she expected to pretend to be after the pregnant woman role? How far would this disguise go? But then, she remembered Dimitri’s words: The plan will unfold gradually.

She had no choice but to trust in that, even if every fiber of her being screamed at her not to.

"I’ll be right back," she murmured after a moment of hesitation, exhaling deeply. She picked up the bag and turned away, walking toward a cluster of trees to change. Her footsteps were heavy, her mind heavier.

Once Sorayah had disappeared from sight, the silence between the two men thickened, stretched taut by the tension that had been simmering since the beginning of their mission.

Liam’s composure finally cracked. He turned to face Dimitri fully, his eyes no longer guarded but filled with deep concern and unease.

"Is it really worth it, Your Highness?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with restrained emotion. "Risking your life like this?"

Dimitri didn’t meet his gaze. His own expression remained unreadable, voice flat and devoid of warmth.

"Let’s not talk about that now, Liam," he replied curtly. "I’ve made my decision. The plan is already in motion. I’m fine."

"You know I’m not talking about the mission your highness and you’re not fine," Liam said, stepping forward slightly, his voice sharpening. "You didn’t just heal her once. You used the magic twice. You know what that means. And still, you did it."

He paused, frustration bleeding into his voice. "A lowly maid? You brought her to war because of Lady Mira to avoid being purnished. But now that she’s here, shouldn’t she be using the so-called skills her father supposedly taught her to protect herself? I mean that lowly maid isn’t your sister even though she has some of her attributes."

Before Liam could say more, Dimitri raised a hand, commanding silence. The movement was swift and authoritative, but there was a flicker in his eyes, a warning that he would not tolerate further questioning.

Just then, footsteps approached softly across the grass, and Dimitri’s gaze shifted. He had sensed her presence even before she appeared, her steps, her breathing, the subtle trace of his magical essence woven into her aura. A bond only he could detect, a scent that lingered from the spell he had cast on her. No one else would recognize it. Only him.

Sorayah stepped out from the trees, now dressed in tattered brown garments that hung loosely around her frame. Layers of bundled cloth filled out her belly, giving the convincing appearance of a heavily pregnant woman. Her hair had been tied back messily, dirt smudged on her cheeks to complete the disguise. She looked every bit the image of a weary, poor woman just trying to survive.

"How is it?" Sorayah asked, her gaze directed at Dimitri.

"Nice," Dimitri murmured with a satisfied grin, stepping toward her with a quiet confidence that startled her."

Before she could react, he placed his hand gently on her fake baby bump, adjusting the padding with careful precision until it looked convincingly real. His touch was brief, almost clinical, but it still made her breath catch in her throat. Once satisfied, he stepped back without saying another word.

Then, without saying any more word, Dimitri and Liam turned and walked away, leavimg her alone. When they returned, they were both dressed in ragged, sack-like garments, the kind worn by beggars or war refugees. Their disguises were impressively thorough, torn, dirt-streaked, and weathered by magic and time.

Sorayah blinked in surprise when she noticed two wheelbarrows being rolled toward her, ones she hadn’t seen until now.

Liam held onto one of the wheelbarrows, which was piled with sacks filled with unknown substances, heavy and oddly shaped. The second wheelbarrow, which Dimitri gripped with ease, was completely empty.

But the moment Sorayah gaze met Dimitri face again, she froze.

The mask he always wore was gone.

In its place was the face of a stranger, a man who looked neither young nor old, but somewhere in between. His features were sharp, unfamiliar, and unsettling. The most jarring difference, however, was in his eyes. Gone were the unmistakable emerald green eyes she had come to recognize. Now, they were pitch black, cold, lifeless, and utterly unrecognizable.

This is not Dimitri... she thought, stunned. Although the physique is that of Dimitri but then the face. She had never seen him without the mask hence she’ll have said this was how he looked like under the mask but then those eyes were different which means he’s not the one.

"Who are you?" Sorayah finally asked, her eyes burning with curiousity.

"What’s wrong with you?" Dimitri’s inquired, noticing her fixed gaze on him.

That’s Dimitri’s voice! She thought, her eyes father widening open in curiousity and confusion.

She didn’t answer immediately.

Noticing her stunned expression and how her gaze was fixed intently on his face, Dimitri let out a quiet smirk.

"It’s a mask," he finally said with a shrug. "Someone else’s face. Crafted with magic so it fits perfectly. If I were to go to the werewolf city with my normal mask which people know me with, they’ll recognize me immediately. I had to make use of this magical mask."

"So it’s still me okay?"

"Oh..." Sorayah finally said, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "I see. I... I didn’t even know masks like that existed. How do you make one? Is it some kind of spell?"

Dimitri tilted his head slightly, the smirk still lingering. "You rip off someone’s face," he replied casually, as though he were discussing the weather. A skill only known by me to take a new identity."

Sorayah’s heart skipped a beat.

"Not the entire face," he clarified, though his tone didn’t soften. "Even a small piece will do. But the person must die for the mask to work. Once it’s done, I use my magic to bind it. It becomes a wearable mask, one that takes on their facial features, eye color, lips, skin texture. Everything. It blends with my own face seamlessly."

Her stomach turned.

"And it doesn’t last long," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Two hours, maybe. After that, it fades, and my true face will start to show again. That’s why I keep several ready. From one person’s skin, I can make a hundred masks."

Sorayah couldn’t find her voice. The thought of wearing someone’s literal skin as a mask made her want to vomit. How could he do something so horrific so casually?

How many faces has he worn?

Before she could process further, his sharp voice shattered her thoughts.

"Sit on it," Dimitri ordered curtly, gesturing with his chin.

"Huh? Sit on what?" Sorayah blinked, startled, her eyes flicking to him.

"The wheelbarrow," he replied with a sigh, now seated casually on a nearby rock. His long fingers rested on his lap as he waited. "You’re pregnant, remember? I need to look like I’m caring for you. And besides, we’re not far from the city now."

Sorayah hesitated only a moment before obeying, gingerly stepping into the empty wheelbarrow and easing herself down. Her hands instinctively went to the swollen belly she had crafted from layers of bundled cloth. Her heart still beat a little too fast from the face mask revelation, but she forced herself to breathe evenly.

Then she noticed something else.

The sound of footsteps.

Laughter.

Conversation.

She glanced up and around, suddenly aware of the narrow road and the crowd of people that had materialized out of nowhere.

"W..what.." she stammered, eyes wide as saucers, her body tensing in alarm.

Dimitri stepped behind her, grabbing the handles of the wheelbarrow.

"It’s an invisibility spell," he explained calmly, his voice close to her ear. "Or you could call it a spatial illusion. We couldn’t see them, and they couldn’t see us. To them, we were like shadows, like spirits passing through. In fact, someone even walked through your body earlier without you noticing."

Sorayah’s eyes widened even more. She clutched her fake belly tightly.

"I lifted the spell the moment we finished preparing," he continued, his voice softening into a whisper. His breath was warm against her neck, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "Now that we’re visible again... it’s time to play your part dear pregnant wife."

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