Lyra stared at her.
The door swung open.
Ishtar was gone before it finished moving.
The school nurse walked in, a compact woman in her forties with reading glasses pushed up her forehead and a tablet under her arm. She stopped when she saw Corbyn sitting upright, then glanced at Lyra, then at the corner where Ishtar had been standing a second ago.
She looked at the corner for exactly two seconds.
Then she looked at her tablet.
"You’re awake," she said to Corbyn, crossing to the supply cabinet. "Good."
She pressed a small reader to his wrist and checked the result.
Then she looked at him over the top of her glasses.
"Fourteen years at this academy," she said. "I have treated students for nerves, heatstroke, anxiety, poor nutrition, one boy who decided to test an experimental summoning compound he absolutely should not have had access to." She set the reader down. "You are the first student I have ever treated for mana exhaustion on ceremony day." She paused. "Before a single class. On your first summon."
"Is that bad?" Corbyn asked.
"It means your first summon pulled more from you than your body currently knows how to produce." She handed him a small glass of something pale. "Mana restoration supplement. Drink all of it. Light activity only for the rest of today. No summoning until your levels stabilize."
She said the last part without looking at the corner.
Professional to the end.
She turned to leave, then stopped.
"Lyra," she said, with the tone of someone who has been waiting to say something. "Shocking to find you still here." She tilted her head. "Is he your secret lover or something?"
Lyra’s face went red faster than Corbyn had seen anyone change color before.
"What — no." She sat up straight. "Absolutely not. That is not—"
"I’m just asking," the nurse said pleasantly.
"He’s just a friend," Lyra said.
"She’s just a friend," Corbyn said.
At exactly the same time.
Silence.
They both looked at opposite walls.
The nurse smiled the smile of someone filing this moment away for later.
"Of course," she said warmly. She made a note on her tablet that was definitely not medical. "Don’t forget, Lyra — you have a speech to give. Welcome assembly for all new students. Main hall." She glanced at the window. "Starts in twenty minutes."
Lyra was already standing, grabbing her bag from the floor.
"What time is it?" Lyra asked.
"Six forty," the nurse said.
Lyra looked at Corbyn.
"You’ve been cleared," she said. "You should come. All new students are expected."
"Right," Corbyn said.
He reached for his shoes.
She was already at the door when she stopped and looked back.
"The left one has a crack," she said.
"I know," Corbyn said.
She pressed her lips together. Said nothing else about it.
The nurse watched them both move toward the door with the expression of someone watching the start of something that was going to be very interesting by the end of the year.
"Don’t be late, representative," she called after them.
The door swung shut.
In the corridor Lyra walked fast. Not quite running. The walk of someone putting distance between themselves and an embarrassing moment while maintaining plausible deniability.
Corbyn matched her pace.
They walked in silence for a while. The academy corridors were mostly empty at this hour. Long windows let in the last of the afternoon light in flat orange angles.
After about a minute Lyra said, very flatly, staring straight ahead:
"She asks every new student that."
"Okay," Corbyn said.
"It’s a running joke. She does it to everyone."
"I believe you."
A pause.
"The blush was involuntary," Lyra said.
"Mine too," Corbyn said.
She glanced at him sideways.
He was looking straight ahead.
She looked forward again.
Neither of them said anything else for the rest of the walk.