The last stroke of the exam quill felt less like a period and more like an exclamation point. The oppressive weight of academic scrutiny lifted, replaced by the giddy, almost frantic energy of post-exam freedom. Lyra, her 4th-year Illusionist practical a distant, shimmering memory, met Aster and Wren in the bustling academy courtyard.
"We survived!" Wren declared, throwing her arms wide. "My brain feels like it's been scrubbed clean with a particularly abrasive charm. How did your spectral griffin fare, Lyra? Did it pass judgment on Professor Valerius's grading?"
Lyra grinned, a genuine, unburdened smile. "It left him with a subtle, existential itch he won't quite understand. A passing grade, I think." She stretched, feeling the tension drain. "Honestly, I just want to vanish into a perfectly crafted illusion of a tropical beach."
"Sounds divine," Aster murmured, pushing her spectacles up her nose. "But before you fully dissipate, Lyra, you have a visitor. A rather distinguished gentleman by the main gates."
Lyra's brow furrowed. "Oh. Thomas."
Thomas, the Moonshadow family's head butler, was a familiar sight. Always impeccably dressed, he was the steadfast conduit for messages between Lyra and her parents. He navigated the chattering throngs with practiced ease, his dignified presence unwavering. He spotted Lyra, his gaze unwavering, and strode directly towards her.
"Mistress Lyra," Thomas intoned, his voice precise and courteous. He offered a shallow, formal bow. "A pleasure to see you well, as always." He gave a polite, knowing nod to Aster and Wren. "Masters Aster, Wren. I trust your studies conclude favorably?"
Aster managed a surprised "Indeed, Thomas," while Wren offered a quick, bright smile.
Lyra stepped forward.
"Thomas. It's good to see you," Lyra said, a hint of genuine warmth in her tone. "What brings you to the academy? Are Mother and Father well?"
"Exceedingly well, Mistress," Thomas replied, producing a pristine, sealed parchment, emblazoned with the intricate Moonshadow family crest. He presented it on a silver tray. "A message from your esteemed parents. And an update on recent family activities."
Lyra took the letter. As she read, her face, usually a canvas of playful expressiveness, drained of color. Her eyes widened, a flicker of genuine shock replacing her apprehension.
"Lyra? What is it?" Wren prompted, sensing the abrupt shift.
Lyra lowered the parchment, her hand trembling almost imperceptibly. She met Thomas's calm gaze. "They're... they're serious?"
Thomas's lips thinned, a slight acknowledgment of the message's weight.
"Indeed, Mistress. Your parents convey their pleasure at your continued diligence in your studies, and their immense anticipation for the upcoming summer holiday. They expect you home for the traditional family gathering." His voice dropped, becoming subtly more deliberate. "And they also wish to formally meet your... fiancé."
Lyra let out a short, incredulous gasp, a sound halfway between a choke and a horrified giggle. Aster and Wren looked utterly bewildered.
No. Oh, no. They actually believe it!
Lyra's mind raced, connecting the dots with a sickening lurch. That night market. The tavern. The first-year students. Reginald. She'd only done it to get them to leave her and Professor Thorne alone, to avoid awkward questions. A joke, a tactical diversion. But it had clearly spiraled into a concrete rumor.
"My fiancé?" Lyra repeated, the words tasting like ash. "But... they heard a rumor. A misunderstanding. A playful jest!" Her internal alarm bells were deafening now. They must think it's him. Professor Thorne. Elias Thorne.
"Your parents, Mistress, consider the matter quite settled," Thomas stated, unperturbed.
"Rumors, as you say, have a way of solidifying. And your parents' ears have been quite full of whispers regarding your esteemed partner. They feel it is high time you presented him to the family." He paused, his gaze fixed on Lyra with gentle, firm expectation. "The letter states, and I quote, 'Should you fail to present your intended on the designated date of the summer solstice, we shall be forced to take matters into our own hands. We will arrive at the academy, personally, to ascertain the situation and make appropriate arrangements for your future. It is our duty to ensure our daughter's happiness and the proper recognition of her chosen match.'"
The words hung in the air, a chilling promise of utterly mortifying, overwhelming parental love and concern. Aster's jaw dropped. Wren's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a hysterical giggle.
"They're serious," Lyra whispered, a dawning horror in her eyes. "They'll come here. They'll make a public spectacle... of my utterly non-existent romance with him!"
"And they specifically mentioned Lord Valerius's persistent inquiries regarding suitable matches for young Master Cassian," Thomas added, a subtle emphasis on Cassian's name. "They feel a formal introduction of your chosen partner is now of paramount importance to quell any lingering... misunderstandings, and to assure the family that your future is indeed secure and of your own choosing."
The implication was clear. Her parents, in their earnest desire for her happiness and proper societal standing, had decided to publicly confirm her alleged engagement to thwart other family interests.
"A holiday," Lyra said, her voice strained. "The summer solstice. That's... not much time."
Thomas nodded, impassive. "Indeed, Mistress. I have fulfilled my duty. I shall take my leave." He performed another shallow bow and, with a final, unnerving glance that contained more understanding than usual, turned and strode back through the academy gates, leaving Lyra, Aster, and Wren stunned.
"Lyra," Aster began, her voice filled with concern, though a flicker of amusement touched her eyes. "They can't actually believe... Professor Thorne?"
Lyra buried her face in her hands, a muffled groan escaping her. "I know, Aster! I know! They actually believe it's him! I'm ruined! Utterly, irrevocably, publicly ruined!"
Wren finally let out her suppressed giggle, though it quickly morphed into a sympathetic grimace. "So... you have, what, a few weeks to convince Professor Thorne, the most notoriously private man in the academy, to play your fiancé for your very traditional parents?"
Lyra lifted her head, her eyes wide with desperate ingenuity. "Precisely," she said, her voice low, a dangerous edge creeping into it, albeit one born of sheer panic. "And I'm going to need every trick in my Illusionist book to pull this off. First step: find the Professor."
What's Lyra's plan to approach Elara and convince him to go along with this charade?