Another two weeks drifted by in the quiet safety of Ironhold, but eventually, the vacation was over.

  The morning of their departure was cold. In the main courtyard, a heavy, reinforced carriage stood waiting, flanked by a squad of ten elite Thorne Knights. The horses were breathing mist into the chill air, their hooves stamping impatiently.

  Alaric stood by the luggage cart, checking his belongings. He had his new training gear, a few books from the library, and the Golden Pin of Valor hidden deep in his bag.

  Near the main steps, the household staff, maids, cooks, and stewards had lined up in two perfect rows.

  Lucia descended the stairs. She wore a traveling cloak over her dress, looking every bit the noble daughter.

  "Safe travels, Lady Lucia!" a maid called out. "Come back soon!" a cook waved.

  It was clear she was beloved here. She wasn't just the Duke's daughter; she was the heart of the estate. Lucia smiled and waved back, stopping to thank a few of the older servants personally.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Duchess Elara Thorne was waiting.

  "Be careful, my little light," the Duchess said softly, pulling Lucia into a warm embrace. She kissed Lucia gently on the forehead. "Don't let the city steal your smile."

  "I won't, Mother," Lucia promised.

  Then, the Duchess turned. Her intelligent eyes found Alaric standing awkwardly to the side.

  She walked over to him.

  Alaric straightened up, ready to bow. "Your Grace, I—"

  Before he could finish, the Duchess leaned in and planted a gentle motherly kiss on his forehead, right between his eyes.

  Alaric froze. His brain short-circuited. He stood there, stiff as a board, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled a tomato. He had expected a handshake, maybe a nod. Not... this.

  The Duchess pulled back, looking amused. "Take care of yourself too, Alaric."

  "Y-Yes, Your Grace," Alaric stammered, looking at the ground, wishing a hole would open up and swallow him.

  Heavy boots crunched on the gravel. Duke Thorne arrived.

  He looked at the scene, his flustered ward-to-be and his smiling wife and cleared his throat.

  Thorne placed a large hand on Lucia’s head, ruffling her hair slightly. "If the Church people pester you too much about the coronation, just tell me. I'll send Selzer to have a 'chat' with them."

  Lucia laughed, a light, genuine sound. "I will, Father."

  Then, Thorne turned to Alaric. The fatherly warmth evaporated instantly, replaced by the steel gaze of the Shield of the South.

  "Boy," Thorne said, his voice low. "You remember our agreement, right?"

  Alaric’s embarrassment vanished. He met the Duke’s eyes with absolute seriousness. "Yes, Sir. Without hesitation."

  "Good," Thorne nodded. "I expect you won't disappoint me."

  He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Alaric could hear.

  "Protect her in case something happens in the Capital."

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  "On my life," Alaric vowed.

  They boarded the carriage. The leather seats were plush, and the interior was heated by a faint magical enchantment.

  The journey back to the Royal Academy was much faster than the march. Without an army to slow them down, the carriage tore through the landscape. It would take only a week to traverse what had taken three weeks on foot.

  For the first few days, the atmosphere was light.

  They talked to pass the time. Alaric found himself opening up in ways he rarely did. He spoke about his childhood in the orphanage and the village of Shuru, not the grim parts, but the moments of scrappy survival.

  "There was Kellan," Alaric said, staring out the window at the passing forests. "He was the oldest. Always trying to act tough. And Lia... she is like my little sister."

  He told her about Mira’s quietness and Rin’s energy, and Father Corwin who was always looking after them when they got into trouble. He spoke of Elaine, the sister who tried her best to raise them like a mother.

  Lucia listened intently, her chin resting on her hand. She laughed at the story of Alaric trying to steal a chick and then got chased by a chicken , his mother had to save him.

  "I can't imagine you running from a Chicken," Lucia giggled. "You killed a Void Stalker."

  "Chicken’s are meaner when they fly," Alaric deadpanned, making her laugh harder.

  Lucia shared stories of her own of growing up in the fortress, playing hide and seek in the armory, and scaring the maids by hiding in suits of armor.

  It was peaceful.

  On the last day of the journey, as the spires of the Royal Capital came into view on the horizon, the mood shifted.

  The laughter died down. The reality of what was waiting for them…the politics, the Academy, the "Stranger" rule settled heavy in the cabin.

  Lucia was looking at her hands. She had been quiet for an hour.

  "Alaric," she said suddenly.

  He looked over. "Yeah?"

  "I..." She hesitated, then looked up. Her eyes weren't shy. They weren't blushing. They looked serious, perhaps even a little angry. Not at him, but at herself.

  "I felt your heart stop, Alaric," she whispered. "That day. When the beam hit you. I felt it stop beating."

  Alaric winced. "Lucia, I…."

  "You died because I froze," she interrupted him, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

  "It was my choice," Alaric said firmly. "I chose to be the one to protect you."

  "It was my failure," Lucia countered, her voice hardening. "I am a Saintess. I have more mana than almost anyone. And yet, I stood there like a statue while you took the blow meant for me."

  She clenched her fists in her lap.

  "My father's condition... the rule that we must be strangers," she continued. "I accept it."

  Alaric nodded slowly. "It's for the best. For your safety."

  "No," Lucia shook her head. "I'm not accepting it because I'm obedient. I'm accepting it because I need to focus."

  She looked him dead in the eye, and for the first time, Alaric saw the steel of the Thorne bloodline in her.

  "I won't be the useless one anymore. I won't be the damsel you have to bleed for. Next time a General appears... I won't close my eyes."

  A flicker of white mana danced in her irises.

  "I will burn him."

  Alaric looked at her, stunned. This wasn't the girl who blushed when he teased her. This was someone new. Someone forged in the fire of that day.

  "Okay," Alaric said softly.

  The carriage rolled through the city gates and approached the Academy district.

  It stopped just outside the main campus entrance, near the intersection that split toward the Commoner Dorms and the Noble Quarter.

  The door opened. The Knight escort waited outside.

  Alaric grabbed his bag. He turned to look at her one last time.

  Lucia looked at him. Her mask of strength cracked for just a second. She gave him a look of sadness, a silent apology for the distance that was about to come between them.

  "Don't worry," Alaric whispered. "Everything will be okay."

  Lucia moved forward and hugged him. It was fierce and desperate, a finale before the storm.

  "Be safe," she whispered into his ear.

  Then she let go.

  Alaric stepped out of the carriage. He didn't look back. He adjusted his bag and began walking toward the buildings of the Commoner Dorms.

  Behind him, Lucia stepped out.

  She smoothed her dress and lifted her chin. The sadness vanished from her face, replaced by a cold, serene expression.

  She didn't look at Alaric. She looked toward the Noble Dorms, her eyes icy and distant.

  She put on the Saintess Mask.

  She has changed, Alaric realized with a mix of pride and ache. We both have!.