The candied apple was surprisingly palatable, its crisp sweetness a jarring contrast to the rather grim information Lyra had delivered. I held it with a certain studied casualness, the sticky caramel a minor tactical nuisance on my gloved fingers.
Lyra, however, devoured hers with the unapologetic enthusiasm of a pixie on a sugar high, a streak of sweetness on her cheek that she seemed blissfully unaware of.
"Not so bad, is it, Professor?" she asked, a wide, innocent smile on her face that didn't quite reach her mischievous eyes. "Even the most rigorous academic minds can appreciate a simple pleasure. And this, I assure you, is a truly excellent pleasure."
"It serves its purpose as sustenance," I conceded, carefully taking another bite. The crowd around us ebbed and flowed, a tapestry of mundane lives and everyday magic.
My senses, however, were still attuned to the undercurrents, the faint magical signatures that spoke of various disciplines, some more… aggressive than others. The Night Market was vibrant, yes, but it was also a nexus of information, both innocent and otherwise.
"Speaking of sustenance," Lyra continued, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "perhaps a warm mug of spiced ale would further aid in our 'academic discussion'? There's a small tavern just around the corner, 'The Wandering Gryphon,' quite unassuming, but surprisingly cozy for scholarly debates."
It was a sensible suggestion. The open market was hardly ideal for discreet conversation. "A wise proposal, Lyra," I agreed, discarding the apple core into a nearby enchanted refuse bin. "Lead the way."
The Wandering Gryphon lived up to its name, a dimly lit, rustic establishment with dark wood beams and a crackling fireplace. The air inside was thick with the scent of roasted meat, cheap ale, and pipe smoke.
We found a secluded booth in a quieter corner, ordering two mugs of the spiced ale.
The warmth of the mug in my hands was a welcome comfort, a small anchor in the turbulent sea of my thoughts. I leaned back, observing the other patrons, my gaze sweeping over the room. That's when I saw them.
A cluster of academy uniforms near the bar, their voices growing louder with each passing mug. Class 7 Life Magic students, if my memory served. A particularly boisterous group, known for their boundless, if sometimes misguided, enthusiasm.
They spotted us almost simultaneously, their eyes widening. My jaw tightened imperceptibly. An unexpected variable. My presence here, with a student, would undoubtedly lead to questions. And Elias Thorne, as a rule, did not appreciate questions about his personal life.
"Professor Thorne! Miss Moonshadow!" a young man with overly gelled hair, whom I recognized as Reginald, called out, a broad grin on his face as he started towards our table, his friends trailing behind. "Fancy meeting you both out here!"
Another student, a bubbly young woman whose bright aura of Life Magic was almost painfully visible, bounced forward. "Professor! It's great to see you outside of class! Are you... perhaps studying some rare urban flora for your research, sir?" She gestured around the tavern with a hopeful enthusiasm.
I managed a curt nod, preparing a polite yet firm deflection. "Students. A private discussion, I assure you." I kept my voice even, hoping to convey a sense of 'move along, nothing to see here.'
Reginald, however, was undeterred. "Oh, of course, Professor! We just saw you both and got curious. You rarely venture out after hours, sir! And Miss Moonshadow, is the Professor finally letting you in on some of his ancient secrets?" He winked at Lyra, clearly trying to be clever.
Lyra, sensing my impending grumpiness, smoothly intercepted. She leaned into my side, her hand gently, almost possessively, slipping into the crook of my arm. Her smile was dazzling, disarmingly sweet, yet it held an unmistakable edge of amusement and a hint of warning.
"Well, Reginald," Lyra chimed, her voice bright and a touch overly saccharine, "some discussions are just too important for the stuffy academy halls, wouldn't you agree?" She looked up at me with an expression of such innocent devotion that it almost made me flinch. "As you can see, Professor Thorne and I are… enjoying a very important private discussion. About our future, actually."
My carefully ordered thoughts decided, quite abruptly, to stage a small rebellion. Engaged? Was Lyra perhaps dabbling in advanced Illusionary declarations now? My outward expression, I hoped, remained a mask of polite composure, but internally, a peculiar jolt of bewildered disbelief, mixed with a frustrating flicker of something almost like… appreciation, coursed through me.
The students' eyes, initially wide with curiosity, now stretched to saucers of shock. Reginald's jaw dropped. The bubbly young woman gasped.
"Future?" the bubbly girl managed, her voice barely a whisper. "Does that mean... Professor Thorne and Miss Moonshadow are...?"
Lyra squeezed my arm lightly, her smile unwavering. "Exactly! Quite the news, I know. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have much to plan." She gave them a sweet, dismissive wave.
Reginald stammered, "Oh! Oh, my goodness! Professor Thorne! Miss Lyra! Congratulations! This is... quite the surprise!" He quickly nudged his friends. "We should leave them be! Important… life magic bonding happening!"
They hastily retreated, practically stumbling over each other in a flurry of embarrassed whispers and excited giggles as they stumbled out of the tavern.
Lyra turned back to me, her hand still linked with my arm, a small, triumphant smirk playing on her lips. Her ears, I noticed, were a faint shade of pink, but her composure was absolute.
"Well," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "that certainly solved the immediate problem, didn't it, fiancée?"
I stared at her, utterly speechless for a beat. The spiced ale suddenly lost all its warmth, replaced by a peculiar tingle of absolute disbelief on my tongue.
Her audacity was truly remarkable. And infuriatingly effective.
"Lyra," I managed, my voice a low, warning rumble, "what, precisely, was that?"
She pulled her hand from my arm, picked up her mug, and took a slow, deliberate sip.
"A strategic maneuver, Professor. As you yourself are so fond of. The quickest way to ensure privacy when confronted by curious students. No one will bother 'the engaged couple.' It's rather brilliant, if I do say so myself." She winked. "Besides, it'll make your public image even more impenetrable. Who would suspect Professor Thorne of secret activities when he's busy planning a wedding?"
I merely looked at her, my mind still processing the sheer, delightful chaos she had just unleashed upon my carefully ordered existence. She was right, of course. From a purely tactical standpoint, it was an excellent deflection. Utterly absurd, but undeniably effective.
We finished our ale in a silence that was punctuated by Lyra's occasional suppressed giggle. I kept my outward expression neutral, but internally, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of something akin to bemused acceptance, mixed with a profound bewilderment, began to ripple through the rigid walls of my disguise.
Leaving the tavern, the cool night air was a welcome sensation. We began the walk back to the academy, the distant glow of its towers a beacon. Lyra, however, was clearly not done.
"You know," she mused aloud, her voice light and airy, "I've always wondered about wedding customs in the Northern Reaches. Are there traditional life-bonding rituals? Or is it more about the ceremonial exchange of ancient artifacts? As your fiancée, I feel it's only right I be informed."
I let out a slow breath. "Lyra," I stated, my tone firm, "there will be no 'life-bonding rituals' or 'ancient artifacts.' This was a temporary… expedient. A performance, if you will."
"Oh, of course," she agreed easily, but her eyes twinkled in the dim light. "Just a temporary measure. But a very convincing one, wouldn't you say? I must say, Professor, you're rather good at playing the part of an affianced man. Very stoic. Very… dedicated. We'll make a great team. Both in life, and in exposing ancient conspiracies. I'm already imagining the wedding invitations. Perhaps with a subtle illusion of a blossoming root, to match your Life Magic specialty?" She punctuated the last with a nod, as if the two were perfectly interchangeable.
I chose not to reply, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of our footsteps on the cobblestones. My mind, usually so disciplined, found itself replaying the scene in the tavern, Lyra's hand in my arm, her bright, confident declaration. The sheer audacity of it. The faint blush on her ears.
As we reached the academy gates, the guard on duty nodded respectfully, his gaze lingering on us with a subtle, newfound interest. Lyra gave him a bright, demure smile. I merely returned the nod, my face a carefully blank mask.
"Goodnight, fiancée," Lyra whispered, her voice laced with mirth, as we parted ways at the main entrance. She then slipped away, leaving me standing there, the chill night air feeling colder than before, and the ghost of a mischievous smile lingering in the air.
My quarters felt emptier than usual. The Night Market had been a crucible of information, a place to confirm the enemy's movements. But Lyra... Lyra had, with a single, audacious lie, managed to shatter the rigid composure of Elias Thorne, leaving Elara Vance to contemplate the peculiar, delightful implications of a 'temporary engagement.' My carefully constructed world felt suddenly, delightfully, off-kilter, and I found myself, despite myself, almost looking forward to Sunday. Next Sunday, perhaps. Without the life magic students.