Kira dreams she's drowning.
Cold water pours over her lips, floods her lungs, tangles her hair like weeds. Somewhere above her, Lexa calls her name — but Kira can't find the surface. She kicks and thrashes but the weight drags her down.
When she jerks awake, the dagger is still tucked under her pillow. She can feel its shape pressing into her temple — a promise she can't break.
Lexa is gone. The bed is still warm where she lay. Kira runs her fingers over the empty place, wishing she could crawl inside the hollow and hide there forever.
But there's no forever in Polis. Only the next day. The next test.
✦ ✦ ✦
Breakfast in the Commander's tower is a tense affair. Titus hovers near the hearth, flipping through scrolls, his eyes flicking to Kira every few moments as if she might sprout fangs and sink them into Lexa's throat.
Lexa, for her part, is the picture of poise. She sips her tea. She listens to Indra's report about new supply lines from Tondc. She nods when Clarke storms in, breathless and fuming.
Kira sets down her cup when Clarke slams a folded piece of parchment onto the table.
"Ash people crossed the border again. Near the Eastern Ridge."
Indra looks ready to gut someone. "How many?"
"Five scouts. They were armed."
Lexa says nothing. She lifts her eyes to Kira — a question. Kira hears Titus's words in her head: Strike at the root.
"They're baiting you," Kira says quietly. "They want you to come down hard so they can paint you as a tyrant. If you retaliate with an open hand, they'll twist it against you."
Lexa's jaw ticks. "And if I do nothing?"
"They'll keep pushing," Clarke snaps. "They'll bleed Trikru until there's nothing left to hold your coalition together."
Kira catches Clarke's eye. She almost feels pity — they're both desperate to keep Lexa alive. But Clarke still believes there's a line that can't be crossed. Kira isn't sure that line exists anymore.
"Send a message," Kira says. "But not with an army. Quiet. Surgical. One cut — deep enough to remind them you don't bluff."
Titus's lips twitch — approval, maybe. Clarke recoils.
"You want to assassinate someone?"
Kira shrugs. "It's politics, Clarke. Or do you think this is still just a war between kids with rifles?"
Lexa says nothing, but the weight of her stare pins Kira to the wall.
"You'd do this?" Lexa asks, voice soft.
"For you?" Kira says. "Every time."
✦ ✦ ✦
They come for her at dusk.
Indra's second — a wiry woman named Adena — slips into Kira's room, wraps a black cloth around her mouth and nose, and presses a small vial into her hand.
"Poison," Adena says flatly. "Slow. Painful. Leaves no trace."
Kira runs her thumb over the vial's wax seal. "Who?"
"A runner named Kerrik. Azgeda's best eyes. He keeps slipping through Trikru lines. Tonight, he drinks with Eisa's lieutenants."
"Where?"
Adena nods toward the window. "Follow me."
Kira hesitates only a moment. She touches the blade hidden at her waist — the one Titus gave her. Then she pulls her hood up and slips out into the darkness.
✦ ✦ ✦
Polis at night is a city of shadows. The wind cuts through the narrow streets like a blade. Smoke curls from fire pits, mingling with the stink of sweat and livestock. The people keep their heads down when they see Adena's sigil — the mark of Trikru carved into her leathers.
Kira's boots crunch over frost. She wonders if the girl she was — the girl who fell asleep watching Lexa die — would recognize the shape she's taken now. She doubts it.
They stop outside an old grain store, half-collapsed from an ancient fire. Inside, a single candle burns, spilling orange light over rough-hewn tables. Men and women huddle close, laughing too loud, passing jugs back and forth.
Adena points. "There."
Kerrik sits near the hearth, scarred hands cupped around a tin mug. He's younger than Kira expected — no older than she is. His pale hair marks him as Azgeda even without the wolf pelt on his shoulders.
"Pour it when they're distracted," Adena whispers. "Slip out the back. He won't feel a thing for hours."
Kira nods, her pulse pounding. She checks her reflection in a broken shard of glass leaning against the wall. Her eyes look too bright. Her hands tremble — but only a little.
She breathes in. Out. Then she pushes through the door.
✦ ✦ ✦
She plays the role of a stray girl well enough — shoulders hunched, eyes downcast. She drifts from table to table, taking empty mugs, dropping fresh ones. No one spares her more than a grunt.
When she reaches Kerrik, he barely glances up. His eyes are foggy with drink. Perfect.
She uncorks the vial under the table, tips it into the jug. It dissolves without a trace — no scent, no color.
Kira waits, pretending to fuss with the fire. Her heart thunders so loud she's sure everyone can hear it.
Kerrik laughs at some crude joke. He raises the mug to his lips.
Kira looks away — but not fast enough. She sees him drink. She sees the trickle of poison slip past his cracked lips. She sees him grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
She slips out the back door before the taste hits his tongue.
✦ ✦ ✦
She doesn't sleep that night. She sits on the edge of her bed, staring at her hands.
At dawn, Adena comes with a short nod. "He's dead."
Kira nods. She feels sick. She feels powerful.
When she reaches Lexa's chambers, the Commander is alone — Titus and Clarke both gone, for once.
Lexa turns when she enters, eyes searching her face. "Is it done?"
Kira opens her mouth — but the words catch. She crosses the room, pressing her forehead to Lexa's chest, breathing in her scent, her warmth, her heartbeat that feels like it could drown out the guilt crawling under Kira's skin.
Lexa's hands settle on her shoulders, grounding her. "You did what you had to."
Kira looks up, her throat raw. "Does it ever get easier?"
Lexa's eyes are ancient in the morning light. "No. It shouldn't."
Kira laughs, bitter and hoarse. "Titus will be thrilled. I'm finally one of his precious knives."
Lexa cups her cheek. "You are not his knife. You are mine."
The words slice her open and stitch her together all at once.
✦ ✦ ✦
Later, she finds Clarke in the council hall, poring over a map. Red lines crisscross the parchment like veins.
"You did it, didn't you?" Clarke says without looking up.
Kira doesn't answer. She doesn't have to.
Clarke presses her palms into the table, her shoulders shaking. "You think this will keep her safe? One dead scout?"
"It's a start," Kira says. "It's a message."
"To who?" Clarke snaps. "The clans? Or yourself?"
Kira steps closer, lowers her voice so only Clarke can hear. "You left her once. I won't."
Clarke's head jerks up, eyes burning. "Don't you think I know what I did? Don't you think I wake up every day wanting to take it back?"
Kira softens — just a crack. "Then help me."
Clarke laughs — a sound like glass shattering. "You think you can play them all, keep her safe forever? They will keep coming. They will tear you apart to get to her."
"Then they can try."
Clarke studies her — really studies her — like she's seeing something for the first time.
"God help her," Clarke murmurs. "She found someone even more reckless than me."
✦ ✦ ✦
That night, Kira returns to Lexa's side.
They lie together in the candlelight — not touching, but close enough that the warmth bleeds between them.
Lexa's voice breaks the silence. "If you stay, they will come for you too."
Kira turns, resting her hand over Lexa's heart. "Then let them. I'm not going anywhere."
Lexa smiles — small, sad. "Don't promise me forever."
Kira leans in, brushing her lips against Lexa's. "I'm not. Just tomorrow."
Lexa pulls her closer. They stay that way until the candles gutter out, the shadows swallowing them whole.
Outside, the wind howls through Polis, carrying whispers of knives in the dark.
But inside, in this fragile moment, Kira dreams not of drowning — but of fire.
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