"Hello."
The answer was simple.
Polite.
Smooth enough that anyone listening would hear only a commoner student returning the courtesy of a noblewoman.
Elara heard confirmation.
Lucavion's voice carried none of the edge visible in his eyes. The darkness within them remained fixed upon Isolde, cold and attentive, while his tone softened around the greeting.
The division felt deliberate.
'They are performing.'
Isolde answered with the smallest inclination of her head. The movement sent a pale strand of hair across her shoulder, where it caught the light from the examination wards.
"May I sit here, Mister Lucavion?"
A murmur stirred through the nearest desks.
Elara kept her gaze forward, though the clear ward at the side of her desk offered a faint reflection of the scene behind her.
