Aria's POV
Supervised activities, it turned out, were about as fun as they sounded. Which is to say, not at all.
My new shadow was a grim-faced instructor named Commander Hayes, who had apparently been tasked with making sure I didn't so much as sneeze without proper authorization. He followed me everywhere—to classes, to meals, to training—with the enthusiasm of someone assigned to watch paint dry.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered as we walked to morning combat practice, Hayes trailing two steps behind like the world's most depressing parade float.
"Talking to yourself is discouraged, Heir Ari," Hayes said in his monotone voice. "It suggests mental instability."
"And following students around like a lost puppy suggests what, exactly?"
"Proper security protocols."
I was starting to
