That was dangerously close to a compliment. Were pigs flying somewhere?
And then he asked, "Why are you here?"
She stiffened for a second, unsure whether he meant here as in this kingdom, this timeline, this level of confusion… or here, next to him, looking like she belonged in a period drama she hadn't auditioned for.
"You said we could check a book out in the library," she replied, playing it cool.
"Yes," Elias nodded, the seriousness in his eyes dimming slightly. "But before we do that, would you have tea with me? I need to speak with you briefly."
*****
A short while later, Lyra sat across from Elias at a perfectly manicured table in the courtyard.
She watched him with narrowed eyes as the tea was served. He didn't touch his cup at first—he was too busy gripping the table.
She arched a brow. "What's with the death grip? Expecting me to throw another breakfast plate at your head?"
Elias gave her a pointed look. "I'm being cautious."
Lyra smirked. "That sounds like a personal problem."
Elias exhaled through his nose. He stared into his teacup as if consulting it for wisdom. Then, finally, he looked up.
"What do you want to speak to me about?" Lyra asked. She wasn't sure if she trusted him yet—but she was curious. And if nothing else, he did have good cheekbones, which made staring at him during awkward silences far less painful.
Elias studied her. He was calculating. Deciding. Wrestling with something behind those infuriatingly pretty eyes.
"I need your help with a problem I have."
Lyra's eyes narrowed over the rim of her teacup. "You… you… need my help….You…you need my help?"
Elias sighed and leaned back slightly, his teacup still untouched. "Are you done being dramatic or do I have to take a nap first?"
"Oh no, no. Go on," Lyra said, waving her hand flamboyantly. "This is great. I mean, it's hard to believe, is all."
Elias gave her a flat look, but she was already smirking, basking in the rare glory of having the upper hand. She took a slow sip of tea.
"You look very much like someone dear to me," Elias said finally. "And I would like you to pretend to be that someone and delay leaving for your world for a bit."
Lyra's smugness died a little. She lowered the cup.
"…Is that why you addressed me as Lirae when you found me?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes," Elias replied. "She was… we were in love. I was seeing her back at the capital and she… went missing…"
He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the table.
Lyra sat back, unsure of what to do with this version of him. The sarcastic prince she could handle—this wounded one was trickier.
"But you said you buried her," she pointed out. "You said she was dead."
Just how much had he blurted out when he found her?
"Ah… yes…" Elias said, clearing his throat in a way that made it obvious he was flailing. "I, uh, secretly buried her. Because I want to find out what happened to her."
Lyra stared at him. "So… let me get this straight. You buried her in secret… so no one would know she was dead… because you are trying to find her killer."
"…That's the basic outline, yes," he said, not even trying to hide his discomfort.
"Wow." She blinked slowly. "And I'm the weird one."
Elias reached for his tea, muttering under his breath. "You still are."
But Lyra didn't laugh. She leaned in a little, studying him again, and when she spoke, her voice had lost some of its bite.
"So, you want me to pretend to be the dead woman you loved?"
Elias met her gaze. "That's the idea. I know it's a lot to ask. But you're the only one who can do it."
She sat there for a moment, silent. Torn. There was a joke sitting on her tongue but it wouldn't come. Instead, her chest tugged just a little, because under all the princely arrogance and dramatic mystery, he looked… lost.
"Oh, I am so going to write a blockbuster best-selling novel when I get back to my world," Lyra declared, eyes gleaming with excitement. She threw her hands in the air. "Seriously, the 'Prince Who Thought I Was His Dead Girlfriend' has Netflix series written all over it. Eat your heart out, Bridgerton."
Elias smiled at her. "You have a deal," he said simply.
Lyra grinned, feeling unusually triumphant, and extended her hand for a shake—business-like, as if this was some legally binding contract between mildly dysfunctional time-crossed humans.
But instead of shaking her hand, Elias lifted it gently and pressed his lips to her knuckles.
"Oh… oh…" she giggled, caught off guard by the prince's sudden switch from sarcastic to suavely medieval Casanova. "Right. Royal manners. Forgot we're not in Kansas anymore."
"You do have to spend the rest of our time here training to be proper before we go back to the capital," Elias added.
"Training to be proper?" she repeated. "Please. I can be proper."
Elias raised a very skeptical eyebrow, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Really?"
"…Okay, fine." She slumped slightly, conceding with an exaggerated sigh. "If I'm being brutally honest, I suck at etiquette." She narrowed her eyes. "But if I do this—play dress-up with a dead girl's identity, you have to promise me something."
Elias leaned in a little, intrigued. "What?"
"You have to stop being so mean to me." She held her chin up regally, though the effect was dampened by the way she took a sip of tea immediately after, trying to look dignified while peeking at him over the rim.
"I am not mean to you. You are just… clumsy, you talk too much, you snore, you drool, and you fart in your sleep."
Lyra choked. She coughed so hard, her tea nearly shot out of her nose. "Oh my God!!!" she finally gasped, eyes wide with horror. "You are such a creep. Were you watching me sleep?! Ew… I feel so violated."