Alouette spends the rest of the afternoon sitting behind her desk and going through the hundreds of papers Harry should've reviewed with Evie, putting on the side the ones she doesn't have the competence to look over.
It's a one in a lifetime opportunity to check out the documents of the Palace but, to her disappointment, none of them seems to have interesting information. They focus on the issues of Dacran and Greenside and more general ones. There are lists upon lists of acronyms and amounts of money, files upon files concerning the industries of the country. There are some reports from the main cities, news, times, names and a thousand of information she'd have to be familiar with just to understand. She can't help but think that, if this is how Harry spends his days, it's no surprise that he's so strict and tense most of the time.
"What time is it?" Evie asks all of a sudden, and Alouette glances at the screen of her laptop.
"Six." It's been a little over an hour since Harry left, but it feels like a century has gone by.
Evie nods. "Can you go check on Mr. Styles? And remind him it'd be better if he didn't drink, considering he still has to shoot his daily video. I'll finish up here."
"Of course." Alouette is more than glad to stand up and gather her things. She could've done it half an hour ago, but she couldn't drop everything right after promising Harry she'd deal with his things while he took a break.
She gets out in the corridor and does a quick stop at her bedroom to drop her belongings before walking in the direction of Harry's bedroom.
When she gets there she takes a deep breath, preparing herself mentally, and then knocks on the door.
"Sir."
There's no reply so she knocks again, and then again. Worry comes over her. Is he in there at all? What if he's drunk? She shudders at the thought. Evie will end her if he ends up not being able to shoot his video because of her.
"Sir!" She calls again, this time there's urgency in her voice. She knocks a little harder. Maybe he's sleeping. "Sir!"
The door suddenly opens, and she gasps.
Harry raises an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and amusement in his eyes, fiddling with the button on the cuff of the white dress shirt on his shoulders. It's wide open to reveal his chest and the silver necklace that's resting over his heart, between the two swallows under his collarbones. Alouette's cheeks heats up when she realises he's only wearing the shirt and a pair of black boxers.
The corners of Harry's lips turn up slightly at the shock painted on her face. "You know, when someone doesn't come to the door instantly there's usually a reason." He buttons the cuff up and then moves on to the other nonchalantly, not seeming to mind being half naked in front of her. One of his curls drops in front of his eyes when he looks down at his wrist, it's slightly damp.
"Did you... take... a shower?" She whispers, trying to look at anything but the tattoo of a butterfly on his torso. She has to get out of there.
He hums and moves to the side. "You may come in," he offers, and she steps into the room.
She stares at him. He runs his fingers through his hair, his lips pressing together so lightly but so evidently at the same time. The cloud she saw earlier is still in his eyes, hiding behind the light green of his irises. There's a pause of a heartbeat, and then she wraps her arms around his neck.
He lets out an audible gasp as she hugs him, his body tense against hers, and doesn't make a move.
Alouette counts to five and lets him go, looking everywhere but at him. "I should've done this earlier," she says quietly. "Sorry for this. It just felt like you needed it."
He looks away. "I'll finish getting dressed, if you don't mind."
He walks back into his bedroom, and Alouette turns her head to follow him with her gaze before she can stop herself.
He has a nice frame. Long legs, slender hips, wide shoulders. His body is lean, athletic, but not overly so. Still, she's sure he'd manage to best anyone in a fight; he's too smart and determined not to. She shakes her head as soon as she realises what she's thinking.
Alouette closes the door and steps further into the room, unable to shake away the feeling that she's overstepping. She shouldn't be there while he isn't properly dressed.
A couple of minutes go by and then Harry comes back wearing the white dress shirt from earlier, this time buttoned up and tucked into the high-waisted black trousers of one of his suits. The jacket and tie are nowhere to be found, and there's a little line of lace around the cuffs at his wrists that Alouette hasn't noticed earlier.
"You always seem to be wearing the same thing," she comments as he rounds the black leather couch to lean against it.
He raises an eyebrow. "I hardly believe you've seen me wear the same clothes more than once."
"You have an upsettingly high amount of suits, then."
The hint of a laugh flashes through his eyes. "Upsettingly high?"
Alouette nods and slowly walks around the couch to sit on it, the lighter mood he seems to be in making her feel more relaxed as well. "I wonder what your wardrobe looks like. Is it just a sea of black suits and white shirts?"
"That's quite accurate," he replies, sitting next to her and crossing one leg over the other. They look longer than usual because of the fit, and she stares for a moment too long.
"And do you have them all matched already or do you match them in the moment?"
Harry narrows his eyes. "Why do I have the feeling you're making fun of me?"
"Oh, I'd never," she backs out quickly before giving him a little glance. "I like this pair of trousers, by the way."
He seems to be a little surprised, but doesn't let it show. "You do?"
Alouette nods. "It's a little more high waisted than the others. It gives you nice legs."
Harry stares at her for a long moment. "Do you look at my legs often, Lark?" he then asks, and Alouette almost chokes on her own breath. He chuckles and slides closer to her, putting his arm on the back of the sofa, behind her. "So I have nice legs, is that so? What else about me is nice?"
Alouette glances down. "Well..." Her throat is dry, Harry's fresh but somewhat sweet cologne in her nose. He smells of water and flowers, the moment in which raindrops touch wild blossoms in the middle of a spring thunderstorm. She's drowning. "I like your... jawline."
He smiles. "My jawline?" His fingertips touch her shoulder, slowly sliding up and down her upper arm.
"And your... lips." She slowly looks up. He's looking at her attentively, curiously, almost.
"What else?"
"Your eyes."
He tilts his head. "My eyes?" he asks softly, earning a nod in reply. "Would you say I'm attractive, then?"
Alouette hums. She doesn't know if the temperature in the room has risen or if her brain is playing tricks on her.
Harry lifts her chin with a finger. Her skin tingles where it touches his. "Then why don't you kiss me?" he whispers, and then presses his mouth to hers.
Her soul jolts, a shiver runs down her spine.
"Why don't you... touch me?" he murmurs, taking her hand and putting it on his chest. She can feel his heart beat as fast as hers, and it thrills her enough to crash her lips against his again.
She grabs his shirt and pulls him closer, and he wraps his arms around her. It's been too long since they last kissed, and his presence is drowning her, deafening her. Her fingers tangle into his hair and his hands graze her spine, sliding lower and lower.
Alouette is hot all over, his touch scorching her like burning flames when he gets under her shirt. She undoes the buttons of his and slips it off his shoulders. He deepens the kiss and she moves to sit on his lap, brushing the smooth skin of his neck, tracing the line of his collarbones. He hums into her mouth, a spike of electricity down her back.
If kissing him for the first time felt like falling from the stars, this time around it feels like the moment before crashing, when you still don't know if you'll be met by ocean waves or hard ground. The dark ghost of reality looms in the corner of her mind, but she purposely ignores it. She's falling. She will crash. She's still looking at the stars, there's still wind in her ears, but she knows it'll all end soon—too soon. She can feel the truth coming, so she just kisses him harder instead, shuts her eyes more forcefully, ignores the darkness her soul is about to fall into.
Then there's a knock on the door, and it all comes to an end.
She straightens her back and opens her eyes, and Harry is already looking at her, his chin raised towards her. Her hands are on his naked chest and his curls are in his eyes, his lips as red as rose blooms and slightly swollen. Being so close to him, she can see a darker shadow under his eyes, so faint that she almost mistakes it for makeup. Almost. He looks so real and so beautiful that it nearly kills her.
For a moment they only stare at each other, and then there's a second knock.
Harry pulls her closer to him. "Aren't you going to open the door?" he whispers in her ear, and Alouette sinks back into reality. Of course he isn't going to open it when his shirt is a crumpled mess and so is his hair. When she's sitting on his lap.
Alouette clears her throat and stands up, straightening her clothes before stepping around the couch. Harry disappears in the other room, and she opens the door.
Evie is standing on the other side, and she doesn't seem minimally bothered nor surprised to find her still here. "Let Mr. Styles know everything is ready for him downstairs, will you?" she says. "I do hope he's presentable, because we're on a time crunch. If he waits any longer he'll have to go directly live."
"I'll let him know."
Evie looks her over and for a terrifying moment Alouette fears she doesn't look as tidy as she thought, but then she walks away.
Alouette lets out the breath she didn't know she was holding and closes the door again, leaning against it.
Harry walks into the room again, this time around he's dressed as usual. He swapped the wrinkled dress shirt with lace on its cuffs with another one, and he put a black waistcoat and jacket on as well.
"It was Evie," Alouette tells him. "You have to go downstairs."
The corners of his lips imperceptibly turn upwards. "I don't have to do anything," he reminds her, "however, I will go downstairs."
Alouette chuckles. "Same end result."
Harry fixes one of his cufflinks. "Is that why you came here?" he asks, "to remind me my list of duties isn't quite finished for today?"
She gives him a little shrug. "I came here to do that, but I stayed because you asked me to." She looks away when she processes the words that have just left her mouth.
He gives her a glance. "I see."
He gets out of the room, and Alouette follows him. He walks as confidently as always, nobody would be able to guess he had to take a break only a little while ago if they crossed paths with him now. He seems to be fine now—or he's pretending to be, Alouette doesn't know which one it is. She can't help being a little impressed with him, with the way he carries himself. He truly will never let anyone see his vulnerable side—she was just an exception, a mistake. Something that will likely never happen again. He's so good at putting up a façade that it almost upsets her.
Following his unexpressed wish, she doesn't mention the conversation they had in his office. She doesn't ask him if it truly is that easy to bring him down, if it's really that important for him to have control over everything. They walk in silence, and he doesn't offer an explanation either.
His mood darkens the closer they get to the office where he usually shoots his videos. By the time they walk inside, he's back into the reality of the situation, his jawline clenched in silent anger.
The room is full of people, but nobody dares to make a sound.
Harry moves to stand in front of the lectern, glancing at the papers someone put on top of it. Someone has undoubtedly drafted a speech for him to address the situation when he didn't do it himself.
The camera is turned on and pointed at him. "Now," the man behind it says, and Harry clears his throat.
There's a pause of a moment and then he brushes the already written speech off the stand, and Alouette watches as the papers fly to the floor. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as everyone waits for him to speak.
And then he does.
"The Revolution has attacked us," he says. No preamble, no hesitation.
The man in front of him gasps, and for a moment Alouette thinks he'll turn off the camera and ask him to start over, but he doesn't.
Harry glances down, a frown twisting his features. He has the face of an angel, and yet he looks like his simple stare could cause death and destruction. "NorthFair Bank was robbed this afternoon. We lost an invaluable amount of money and gold. Your money and gold."
Alouette covers her mouth with her hand to silence her fast intake of breath. He's twisting the truth, revealing only the sides that benefit him. NorthFair Bank only carries the riches of the government and the richest, most powerful families in the country, she knows that. But he's making it sound like the Revolution stole from the common people, the ones that live in the poorest areas of the city, the ones that have to work three different jobs to put some food on the table. The ones he chooses to ignore every single day.
But he isn't stupid. He knows how many those people are. He knows how they think, and he uses them to fulfil his own ends. If he convinces the majority, nobody will be able to overthrow him. He knows what he's doing, and she hates that.
"I ask that you do not panic. This is an ongoing investigation and I promise you I will do everything that's in my power to find the people that did this and ensure they are punished in the court of law.
"The Revolution is a danger to the safety of everyone in the country. They are snaking into our system and trying to destroy it. We need order to fight them. We need to stand together. I encourage everyone that has any information regarding the Revolution to come forth, for they will be generously rewarded. Everyone that associates with it will be punished.
"Do not give in to their words. The Revolution isn't your friend, it's your enemy. They feed on innocent, clueless people like leeches. They've been a threat to our society for ever a decade. My father failed to stand against it, but I will not make his same mistakes. I know its dangers and I know what it represents. I know the way they feed lies to people to convince them to fight against us. I won't stop until I take it down. Until I take them all down."
Alouette gulps, the tips of her fingers trembling slightly. Harry has just declared war on the Revolution. On her. This is the start of the end. Once again, the sentence that came to her mind when he kissed her for the first time comes back, ringing truer than ever.
There will be no going back.
Her mind wanders to Elijah, and she suddenly feels sick. She prays to whoever is up above, the aether, the moon, the stars, everything that is and that can't not be for Elijah's safety. For Elodie's safety. For Amina's safety. For the safety of everyone in the Revolution buildings and all the ones that were sent to Northfair.
Run from the silence, her father once told her.
Well, she thinks, there's no silence to run from anymore, dad.
The echo of Harry's words has filled the void, resonating louder and louder with every passing moment.
"As always, the citizens' safety is our top priority. I ask you not to wander around the north district until it will be declared safe by the authorities. Have a good night." He steps away from the lectern before the camera can be turned off and makes his way out of the door in the eerie silence of the room.
Alouette shakes her head to fall back into the present and runs after him. She only realises Jayden is walking next to her when they both reach Harry.
"Sir," he says before she can open her mouth.
Harry doesn't turn to look at him, doesn't slow his pace down. "Find everything you can on the leaders of the Revolution," he instructs, his voice low and steady. Alouette has never seen him like this, and it terrifies her. Has she accidentally made everything worse by trying to do the opposite?
"Do we know anything about the leaders of the Revolution?" Jayden asks, faint confusion in his voice.
"Ezra Larson," Harry replies, sending a shiver down Alouette's spine. "I want to know everything about him. Where he lived, where he studied, who he knew. Find everything."
Jayden nods. "Is it the only name we know?"
Harry stops in front of his office, his hand on the handle. "Asher Markberg and Daniel Ivenhart. Markberg is dead."
Alouette clenches her teeth as tight as she can to keep her face neutral at the mention of her surname. Harry knows too much.
"What about Ivenhart?" Jayden asks in the moment Harry opens the door.
He turns his head to glance at him. "Ivenhart hasn't been in the picture for years. He's presumed dead." He steps inside and closes the door behind his back without even sparing Alouette a second glance.
She repeats his words over and over in her mind.
Presumed dead.
But the Revolution doesn't give out any information on the people that are part of it, they leave no signature when they attack the warehouses, railways or Harry's guard.
Hasn't been in the picture for years.
How would you know that, Harry?