The morning mist hung low over the Polis training grounds, clinging to the stone like a second skin. The air was sharp and cold, but you didn't mind. It felt cleaner out here than in the suffocating council rooms and endless political negotiations that now filled your days.

Since recovering from your near-fatal wounds, you had been tethered to Polis—not as a prisoner, not exactly, but not free either. Lexa had named you Skaikru's official ambassador, a move that had been sold as diplomatic, but you knew better. It was containment disguised as honor. You lived in a sprawling chamber within the tower, moved through the streets under careful watch... and wherever you went, Jake followed.

Jake was one of Lexa's warriors—a guard assigned personally to you after your recovery. A "protection detail," Lexa had called it. You called it what it was: a leash.

Still, you couldn't deny that Jake was different from the usual Trikru soldiers. He was younger, maybe a few years older than you, with dark hair that curled slightly at the ends and quick, amused eyes that made him look more like a mischief-maker than a soldier. His easy manner had worn down some of your resistance over the past weeks. He was a reminder that not everyone here moved like they were preparing to kill at any moment.

"You're getting better,"

Jake called out now from where he leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed, watching you loose another arrow.

£The shot hit just shy of the center ring. You lowered your bow with a small huff of frustration.*

"High praise from my babysitter,"

you shot back, flashing him a dry smile.

Jake laughed, unbothered.

"Guard,"

he corrected.

"Bodyguard, technically. 'Babysitter' just sounds mean."

You rolled your eyes but didn't argue. Whatever his title, Jake was there to make sure she didn't flee Polis—or worse, stir up trouble. And despite herself, you found his company preferable to endless hours spent alone brooding over the choices that had brought you here.

You nocked another arrow, drawing it back carefully. Your muscles, still regaining their strength, trembled slightly with the effort. You let the arrow fly. It sailed, clean and straight... but missed the center by an inch.

"You're pulling too soon."

The voice was sharp, cutting across the courtyard like a blade. You stiffened instantly.

Lexa.

You turned slightly, seeing the Commander approaching across the stone, her dark training clothes blending into the morning shadows. Lexa moved with the same lethal grace you remembered all too well. She wore no armor, but she didn't need it. Power clung to her like a second skin.

Jake straightened up quickly, falling into the disciplined stillness of a warrior in his leader's presence. You stayed where you were, bow in hand, refusing to be cowed.

"I don't remember asking for advice,"

You said evenly.

Lexa stopped a few feet away, her hands clasped behind her back. Her eyes—those relentless, unreadable green eyes—swept over you and then, briefly, over Jake.

"If you're going to waste your time training, you might as well do it properly,"

Lexa said, voice cool.

Jake shifted awkwardly, glancing between them. You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye.

"You seem very concerned for a war criminal,"

You said, drawing another arrow slowly.

"You are Skaikru's ambassador now,"

Lexa replied.

"Your survival benefits Polis."

"Convenient,"

You muttered under your breath.

Lexa ignored the comment and moved closer. Too close. You could feel the heat of her presence without even looking. Jake shifted again, but Lexa didn't even acknowledge him.

"You're too rigid,"

Lexa said lowly. Her hand, gloved but still too familiar, brushed your arm to adjust your form.

"You fight the bow. You need to move with it."

You wanted to jerk away but forced yourself to stay still.

Jake gave a low, impressed whistle.

"Guess she needed the lecture after all."