Seven months at Silverkeep Academy, and Alice Valebright stood where she belonged—at the top.
The rankings hall gleamed with polished marble and gold trim, befitting the capital's premier academy. Unlike Ashbourne's utilitarian stone, Silverkeep celebrated elegance alongside excellence. Twenty names displayed in flowing script, ordered by combat prowess, academic achievement, and political acumen.
First position: Alice Valebright.
Second position: Mira Elbrecht.
"Still undefeated," a noble-born squire whispered as Alice passed. "Seven months, and no one's even come close to challenging her ranking."
"The princess trains like she's preparing for war," another murmured. "Every morning before dawn, every evening after classes. That violet Spirit Sword... I've never seen manifestation that intense."
But the whispers that followed Alice most persistently weren't about her combat capability or unprecedented Spirit Sword color. They focused on something simpler.
The crimson jewelry she wore constantly.
A metal bracelet on her left wrist—sleek but sturdy, forged from demon-treated steel and finished in distinctive crimson. Engraved on the surface: A.A.
And hanging from a delicate chain around her neck, a crystal pendant shaped like half a heart, glowing with the same crimson hue.
She wore both constantly. Through training, classes, ranked duels, even formal court appearances when Lord Cassius required political protocol demonstrations. The crimson bracelet and pendant never left her.
And people noticed.
"What does A.A. stand for?" noble suitors asked during formal dinners, trying to engage the princess in conversation. "And the pendant—what significance does it hold?"
"Personal significance," Alice replied politely but firmly, offering no elaboration.
The rumors multiplied.
"Perhaps a family name," some whispered. "Honoring maternal lineage or a lost relative."
"Arathor's Alliance?" political minds suggested. "Secret engagement, perhaps. The princess preparing for diplomatic marriage."
"A personal oath or promise," others speculated quietly. "Something meaningful only to her."
"The pendant is shaped like half a heart," observant courtiers noted. "Which means someone else has the matching half."
None knew the truth. Alice kept it close, protected, cherished. The crimson bracelet bore their initials—Alice and Adrian, intertwined. The crystal pendant matched his Spirit Sword color—unprecedented, unique, his. Both were promises, connections across distance, reminders of what waited beyond academy walls.
Seven months of letters. Seven months of separation. Seven months of proving themselves worthy of early graduation.
The crimson jewelry reminded her every day.
Mira appeared at her shoulder—as always. Where Alice went, Mira followed. Second-ranked squire, orange Spirit Sword user from House Elbrecht, fiercely loyal friend who'd stood beside her since before the trials.
"Another suitor requesting audience," Mira said, rolling her eyes. "Lord Terrance's third son. Claims his family's political alliance would benefit the crown."
"Decline politely," Alice instructed. "Training schedule fully committed to Winter Trials preparation."
"That's the fifth this week. They're persistent."
"They're wasting their time." Alice touched the crimson bracelet unconsciously, fingers drifting to the pendant. "My path is decided."
Mira smiled knowingly. "He'll be at Winter Trials. One month."
"One month," Alice agreed, heart tightening with anticipation.
The seven months at Silverkeep had been transformative.
Unlike Ashbourne's focus on monster hunting and demon slaying, Silverkeep trained Support Knights—warriors who understood both blade and politics. Lord Cassius, the stern headmaster, demanded excellence in combat and courtly affairs equally.
"A knight serves the kingdom in many ways," he lectured regularly. "Battlefield prowess means nothing if you cannot navigate political complexities, negotiate treaties, or represent the crown with dignity."
Alice excelled at both.
Combat training pushed her violet Spirit Sword to new heights. The unprecedented color that had shocked the tournament now manifested with devastating control. She'd climbed rankings systematically—twentieth to tenth to fifth to third to second, then finally claiming first position three months ago.
The duel for first rank had drawn kingdom-wide attention. Alice versus Lord Cassius's personal protégé, a third-year squire who'd held the position for eighteen months. The battle lasted seven minutes—violet Spirit Sword against blue, unprecedented power against trained experience.
Alice won decisively.
"Your Spirit Sword control surpasses most knights I've trained in two decades," Lord Cassius had told her afterward, rare praise from the stern headmaster. "Early graduation is not just possible—it's expected."
Political lessons proved equally challenging. Navigating noble factions, understanding trade agreements, recognizing diplomatic manipulation, maintaining royal composure under pressure. Alice absorbed it all, preparing for future responsibilities as crown princess.
But every lesson, every duel, every political challenge was measured against one goal: early graduation in two years.
Two years to prove herself. Two years to become worthy. Two years until reunion.
The crimson bracelet and pendant reminded her constantly.
"Winter Trials summons arrived," Mira said one evening, entering their shared quarters with official document. "Top ten from Silverkeep. You're first seed, I'm second. Sixty squires total, all six academies."
Alice took the document, heart racing. "He'll be there."
"He will definitely be there. Crimson Spirit Sword, probably terrorizing Ashbourne's rankings by now." Mira grinned. "Think he's climbed high enough to represent them?"
"He'll be top ten. Probably top five." Alice studied the tournament structure. Single elimination, random draws, sixty warriors. "We might face each other in the brackets."
"Would you hold back?"
"No. He wouldn't want me to." Alice touched the crimson pendant, the half-heart crystal warm against her skin. "We're both proving ourselves. If we duel, we duel seriously."
"Seven months apart," Mira observed. "That's long time."
"Every day." Alice looked at her desk, where Adrian's letters sat in careful stack—each one read multiple times, cherished, preserved. "But the letters helped. Knowing we're both working toward the same goal, both climbing toward early graduation."
"You write him about the suitors?"
"I mention them. He finds it amusing—nobles competing for attention I have no intention of giving."
"And the bracelet and pendant? Does he know you wear them constantly?"
Alice smiled. "I described them in a letter two months ago. He wrote back asking if I was certain about wearing something so visible. I told him I was certain about everything."
Mira studied her friend carefully. "You really love him."
"I really do." Alice's hand closed around both the bracelet and pendant. "Seven months feels like years. But Winter Trials... we'll see each other again. Even if just briefly, even if surrounded by sixty other squires and High Command observers. We'll be there together."
"One month," Mira reminded gently.
"One month."
The final weeks before Winter Trials intensified training across Silverkeep.
Lord Cassius pushed his top ten mercilessly. "You represent this academy," he declared. "Silverkeep has never won Winter Trials. We've placed second three times, third five times. This year, with unprecedented violet manifestation leading our delegation, we will claim victory."
Alice trained harder than ever. Violet Spirit Sword drills, tactical scenario studies, political protocol reviews. Every skill honed to perfection, every capability maximized.
Because Winter Trials meant two things: proving Silverkeep's excellence, and reuniting with Adrian.
The suitors continued their attempts, undeterred by polite refusals.
"Princess Alice, surely you'll attend the pre-tournament gala?" one asked.
"What significance does your crimson bracelet hold?" another inquired. "And the pendant—where is its matching half?"
"After Winter Trials, perhaps we might discuss potential alliances?" a third suggested.
Alice deflected each with practiced grace, the crown princess who'd learned political navigation alongside blade work. But the crimson bracelet and pendant remained visible, unmissable, unexplained.
Let them speculate. Let them wonder. She knew exactly what they meant—and in one month, she'd see him again. He'd be wearing the matching violet pendant, carrying her promise just as she carried his.
The night before Silverkeep's delegation departed for Winter Trials, Alice sat alone in her quarters.
The crimson bracelet gleamed in candlelight, demon-treated steel catching the light. The crystal pendant hung warm against her chest, half a heart waiting for its match. Adrian's latest letter lay open on her desk—describing his climb to second rank at Ashbourne, his missions against The Endless Night, his anticipation for their reunion.
"I've been saving something for Winter Trials," he'd written. "You'll understand when you see it."
Alice wondered what he meant. But more importantly, she wondered how it would feel to see him again after seven months of separation. Letters maintained connection, but nothing replaced presence.
One month. Then Winter Trials. Then reunion.
And somewhere in that tournament, they'd prove themselves—not just as academy elites, but as warriors worthy of the future they planned together.
Alice touched the crimson bracelet and pendant one final time before sleeping.
A.A. Alice and Adrian. Their initials intertwined, their promise shared. His color forged in demon-treated steel and crystal, worn on her wrist and around her neck, carried in her heart.
Seven months apart. One month until Winter Trials.
Time to show the kingdom what they'd both become.