Lyra's frantic sprint through the academy's bustling corridors felt less like seeking out a professor and more like chasing a runaway illusion. She hadn't had a proper conversation with Elara since the orphanage incident, the relentless academic calendar and final exams having kept them both relentlessly occupied. Now, with the summer solstice looming, she was desperate.
"He's probably holed up in his office, or the restricted archives," Aster muttered, slightly out of breath as she and Wren tried to keep pace. "You know how he gets after exams. Retreats to his lair."
"Lair it is, then," Lyra declared, her desperation fueling her speed. "Wish me luck. I'm about to propose the most ridiculous illusion of my life."
Wren managed a weak, sympathetic grin. "Good luck. And try not to turn him into a pumpkin. You might need him in human form."
Lyra reached the secluded wing of the Life Magic department. Professor Thorne's office door, as usual, was closed, a faint hum of wards emanating from within. She knocked, a series of quick, sharp raps.
"Professor Thorne? It's Lyra Moonshadow! I desperately need a moment of your time!"
Silence. Then, a low, resonant voice. "Miss Moonshadow. My office hours concluded an hour ago. Unless this pertains to an unforeseen magical mutation, I suggest you consult the proper channels."
"It's worse than a magical mutation, Professor! It's a family emergency!" Lyra insisted, her voice rising in urgency. "It's about... our future!"
A beat of charged quiet followed. The wards shimmered, and the door clicked open just enough to reveal a sliver of Elara's stern face. Her eyes, usually sharp and assessing, narrowed slightly. "Our future, Lyra? I confess, your dramatic flair often eclipses your precision. Step in."
Lyra slipped inside, Aster and Wren wisely retreating to a respectful distance. The office, as always, was meticulously organized, ancient tomes and glowing vials arranged with scientific precision. Elara, now fully visible, stood by her desk, arms crossed, an eyebrow arched in an expression of weary skepticism.
"Now, Lyra," she began, her voice calm, "explain this 'family emergency' that requires a fourth-year student to interrupt a professor's post-exam recuperation with talk of 'our future.'"
Lyra took a deep breath. This was harder than facing down a rogue elemental. "Elara, you remember that night at 'The Wandering Gryphon'?"
Elara's expression remained neutral, but a flicker in her eyes confirmed she remembered. "Indeed. A regrettable encounter with overzealous first-years. And a rather... imaginative 'strategic maneuver' on your part."
"Yes! Exactly that!" Lyra exclaimed. "Well, that 'strategic maneuver' has, shall we say, taken on a life of its own. My parents, Elara... they heard the rumors. They actually believe it." She wrung her hands. "They believe you are my fiancé."
Elara stared at her. Her composure, usually as solid as granite, wavered. Her eyebrow twitched. "They... believe what, Lyra?" she asked, her voice slow, disbelieving.
"They believe you are my chosen partner!" Lyra blurted, words tumbling out. "The one I let slip in the tavern! And they're ecstatic! They've sent Thomas, my butler, to demand I bring you home for the summer solstice family gathering to formally meet you!" She gestured wildly with the crumpled letter. "If I don't, they're coming here. To the academy. To 'ascertain the situation and make appropriate arrangements for my future.'
Can you imagine the humiliation? The sheer, unadulterated mortification of having my parents descend upon this hallowed ground, looking for my supposed 'fiancé,' who doesn't exist? Well, who you don't exist as, in that capacity!"
Elara slowly unfolded her arms. She walked to her desk, picked up a perfectly sharpened quill, and examined its tip with meticulous care. "Let me be clear, Lyra. You require me to... pose as your fiancé. For your parents. For the entire summer holiday."
"Just for the summer solstice gathering!" Lyra corrected, her voice pleading. "Please, Elara! You said yourself it was a 'strategic maneuver'! We're a 'great team'!" She recalled her words from that night, trying to use Elara's own logic. "It's the ultimate illusion! And if I don't, they'll force me into an engagement with someone else. Probably a Valerius. Imagine the complications for your own... investigations, Elara, if I'm suddenly entangled with them."
That struck a nerve. Elara's gaze sharpened, losing its bewilderment and gaining a cold, calculating edge. She returned the quill to its holder. "A Valerius, you say? Lord Valerius's son, perhaps? Young Cassian?"
"Exactly!" Lyra pressed, seizing the opening. "My parents specifically mentioned his father's inquiries! They want to 'quell misunderstandings' by parading you around. It's not just about me, Elara. Think of the access. The information. The sheer, unmitigated chaos a forced engagement would cause to our current... understanding of the Valerius operations."
Elara began to pace, slowly, deliberately. The strategic implications were indeed... It was absurd, but Lyra was right – a Lyra Moonshadow tied to a Valerius would be a significant complication to her own objectives.
She stopped, turning to face Lyra, her expression unreadable. "And what, precisely, are the terms of this... 'performance,' Lyra? What does a 'temporary fiancé' entail? And what guarantee do I have that this 'illusion' will not similarly 'take on a life of its own' beyond the summer solstice?"
Lyra's heart leaped. Elara hadn't said no. "Terms! Absolutely! We'll have a formal agreement! Discretion, clear boundaries, a timeline! And it gets my parents off my back, allows me to continue my work with Marden, and gives you a perfect, unassailable cover for any... side projects you might be pursuing regarding the Pillar families. In fact," Lyra leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming with a fresh idea, "my family's mansion has a secret library. It's not just old books; it holds generations of Moonshadow observations on the other Pillar families. Whispers of their true dealings, their hidden magics, things my ancestors, as Illusionists, were uniquely positioned to observe without being directly involved. Information on the Kaelans' Elemental Shackling, the Theron's Conjuration, and yes, even the Valerius's Soul-Binding practices. It's largely uncatalogued, too sensitive to be publicly known."
Elara froze, her cold, calculating gaze suddenly alight with genuine interest. The mention of the Moonshadow secret library had struck a deeper chord than even the Valerius threat. Uncatalogued information from an Illusionist family, who watched and recorded from the shadows, was precisely the kind of resource her own limited investigations craved. This wasn't just a cover; it was an unparalleled opportunity.
"Lyra," Elara said, her voice a low, almost eager murmur, "your capacity for drawing me into utterly preposterous situations is truly unparalleled. But this... this is a significant incentive. Very well. Explain your precise plan for this 'strategic maneuver.' And be quick about it. The solstice, as you pointed out, is not a luxury we possess."
Lyra beamed, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. "Elara," she said, her eyes gleaming, "this is going to be magnificent."
"Here's the plan, Elara," Lyra announced, pulling a fresh scroll and quill from her bag, her voice now filled with the brisk efficiency of a field marshal. "Think of it in phases. Phase One: The 'Love Story' Arc."
Elara raised an eyebrow, a flicker of dry amusement in her eyes. "Arc, Lyra?"
"Yes! Every convincing narrative needs one," Lyra insisted, already scribbling. "This is where we craft our backstory. We need to nail down every detail: where and when we 'met'—a secret rendezvous, naturally, given your… discreet nature. How our 'affections blossomed.' And the exact circumstances of our 'private proposal.' It needs to be utterly believable, charming, and just vague enough to deter excessive inquiry." She tapped the scroll. "We'll spend the next few days meticulously crafting this shared 'history,' cross-referencing it with real academy events to make it seamless. No loose threads."
"And after this 'arc' is complete?" Elara prompted, a hint of resignation in her tone.
"Then comes Phase Two: Behavioral and Social Conditioning," Lyra declared, a mischievous glint in her eye. "This is where we practice. We'll rehearse interactions.
How we look at each other, subtle gestures of affection – a shared glance, a hand brush, a polite smile."
She saw Elara's almost imperceptible flinch. "Nothing egregious, Elara! Just enough to convince my parents of our deep bond. We'll run through potential questions they might ask, particularly from my Aunt Genevieve, who has a knack for piercing through superficiality. You'll learn to respond with vague but affectionate answers. We'll discuss shared interests, like your botanical research and my illusions, finding common ground we can enthusiastically discuss. Consider it a masterclass in social mimicry."
Elara's jaw tightened slightly. "Social mimicry. Fascinating. And the final phase?"
"Phase Three: The Grand Performance," Lyra announced with a flourish. "This is the summer solstice gathering itself. We'll enter as a united front, projecting an air of quiet, confident devotion. We'll stick to our rehearsed narrative, anticipate questions, and use our practiced body language. The goal is to overwhelm them with our apparent perfect match, leaving no room for doubt or further matchmaking attempts. By the end of the holiday, they'll be so satisfied, they'll gladly send me back to the academy, convinced my future is settled. And during that time, Elara," Lyra added, her voice dropping to a more serious tone, "you'll have prime access to the Moonshadow secret library. Unfettered. It's part of the deal."
"An ambitious plan, Lyra," Elara mused, her gaze drifting to the parchment Lyra now held. "Requires a significant investment of time and... emotional labor, as you Illusionists might put it. But the library... that indeed adds a compelling dimension."
"It's a temporary inconvenience for a permanent solution, Elara," Lyra countered. "And it starts now. So," she gestured to the empty space on her desk, "let's begin with our 'first meeting.' Outside the academy, perhaps? Somewhere less... tavern-like?"