Alouette opens her eyes just in time to see Harry step out of the bathroom, naked. Her eyebrows raise. "It's definitely too early for this."
He stops drying with hair approximately with a towel and turns to look at her. "You're awake."
She frees her hand from under the pillow and waves at him. "Hi."
He throws the towel on the bed and walks in the closet. Alouette closes her eyes and lets out a sigh, trying to find the will to get off the bed, but she fell asleep so late and her limbs don't want to move. She should've known better than to think she could get a full night of sleep in the apartments of a man that can go through his day-to-day with little more than a couple of hours of rest.
She picks up Harry's dress shirt and puts it on, following him into the wardrobe. By the time she joins him, he's already put on a pair of boxers. She comes up behind him and traces a line up his spine with her finger. A light shudder comes over him, and she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw from behind, her hands on his shoulders. "Think you can walk around like that without me doing anything about it?" she whispers in his ear. "Why don't you come back to bed so I can show you just how much I like it?"
He turns his head, a faint smile curving his lips. "I fear there's no time for that."
"We can make time."
"I have a meeting with the head of my personal guard at eight, one with Mr. Lawson's replacement at nine thirty, another with the lower floors at eleven, another with an associate at one forty-five, and one with the team at four. Not even I can make miracles."
Alouette lets go of his shoulders. "Damn, you actually are busy. I can tie you to the bed and tell everyone you're indisposed if you want."
Harry chuckles. "Another time."
She glances around. It's the first time she's stepped into his walk-in closet, and the strong black-and-white contrast is making her head spin. "So this is your infamous wardrobe," she comments, taking a step forward and grazing the suits hanging neatly next to each other. "It's better than I thought." She turns to look at Harry—he's staring at her attentively. A mischievous smile turns up the corners of her lips, and she walks around him. "Let's see."
Harry follows her with his eyes until she's behind him, and when she comes up on his other side, she finds his green gaze again. She nears the suits again and goes through them carefully, taking note of the different types of buttons, different shades of black, slightly different frames. She smiles when her eyes set on a suit she recognises, and she moves on. She picks a white dress shirt and a tie to match the suit, and then turns to look at Harry, holding up her prizes.
"There."
An amused glance appears on Harry's face when he recognises the suit. "Interesting choice." He takes it and puts it on the empty hanger beside him.
Alouette laughs and unbuttons the shirt. She'd thought it was plain before picking it up, but now she recognises the feel of the expensive fabric between her fingers, and she takes extra care not to ruin it by mistake. She doesn't even dare to wonder at how expensive it is. She has a feeling that if she knew, she'd put it down and never touch it again.
Once it's open, she sees Harry's initials embroidered on the inside of the collar, and she shakes her head in brief shock. Handmade. She steps closer to him and holds it open for him to put on, then walks in front of him to button it up. Her eyes meet his when she reaches the top, and her cheeks get warmer when she remembers the only other time she helped him get dressed at the Palace. Back then, she'd still thought she could carry out her plans. Now it makes her want to laugh.
She took his clothes off piece by piece only some days ago, but helping him get dressed is different. It feels oddly intimate, in the completely opposite way. Even though she's now familiar with Harry, his persona is something she still can't quite make out. It's the only thing that makes her go, stop, wait, whenever she starts thinking she knows it all about him. She wonders if she'll ever truly understand the mystery behind it—if it's a mystery at all. Maybe there's none. Maybe it's just him. He does strike her as the type of person that never fully shows his hand, no matter whether the person behind him is friend or foe.
Alouette shakes her head and takes the trousers of the suit off the hanger, handing them to Harry. She studies him as he pulls them up his long legs and closes them with ease.
He lifts his gaze to her. "Satisfied?"
She smiles, dismissing the thoughts running through her head. "Very much so. I've told you high waisted trousers make your legs look amazing, haven't I?"
The corners of his lips turn up. "You've mentioned it, once or twice."
She hums and picks up the black tie. It's material is soft, gentle against her skin, and suddenly, she's thinking. Her gaze snap to Harry. He narrows his eyes, and she knows he knows exactly where her mind went to. She clears her throat and blinks twice, forcing herself to loosen her grip on the tie. She fixes the collar of the dress shirt and wraps the tie around his neck, taking care to keep it straight. His eyes are burning into hers, and she does her best not to keep her focused on the knot of the tie. She can feel his closeness like static on her skin. Her fingers wrap around the knot as she tightens it, and she doesn't want to let go.
She nearly runs to the hanger and picks up the waistcoat. She holds it up for Harry to put on and buttons it down quickly, only stopping to make sure the fabric under it isn't creasing, then it's the jacket's turn. She buttons it down as well and then moves behind Harry to check his reflection in the mirror. Her gaze meets his through the glass, and he's still evaluating her, studying her, and suddenly the only thing she can think about is the way her fingers closed around his tie.
"Looks good," she makes herself let out. Way to go, Alouette, she thinks sarcastically, you've definitely kept him from realising you were considering some alternative uses for that tie of his.
She walks in the bathroom and gets ready in quick motions. Her gaze falls to the date in the corner of the mirror while she's putting on mascara and a pang hits her chest when she sees it's the first day of the month.
She finishes up and walks out. When she enters the living room to retrieve the clothes she's left on the couch, Harry is already there. She gets dressed quickly under the reflection of his eyes coming from the floor-to-ceiling window.
"It's November," she starts as she puts on her high heels.
Harry takes a sip from the glass he's holding and doesn't say a word. His gaze is out of the window, to the skyline of Northfair.
"Amina's birthday is in two days."
"And?" He's looking at her—at her reflection—now. She doesn't look up to check, but she feels the weight of his attention.
"I want to go back to celebrate. You must let me go back."
Harry sighs, crossing the living room and putting the glass down. "I'm busy now. Let's talk about this later."
Alouette's head snaps up. "It's always later to you! I need to go back home, I need to be there for her birthday."
"As I said, later."
She jumps up to her feet and nearly trips over the corner of the couch as she follows him to the entrance. "I came here for you, Harry! You promised you'd let me see her when I agreed to come with you, you can't just go back—"
Harry opens the door. "I said later." His tone is sharp, and her voice instantly dies down. "If you want to call them, the phone in my study is safe. I'll see you at four."
Alouette's mouth falls open in shock as he steps out and closes the door. The hinges are new and not a sound comes out, but she flinches as if it banged loudly. She can't even remember the last time he was this short with her, and it stings. She stays there for a long moment, waiting for him to come back in and rectify this mess, but he doesn't.
She blinks quickly and turns away. She won't let it get to her. She doesn't even notice it's the first time Harry lets her stay in his rooms while he isn't there.
She opens the door to his study and takes a careful step in, taking a careful look around. The last time she was in here she was looking for the code to the library, a lifetime ago. Back then, she rummaged through the contents of his desk, on a mission. Now, she takes her time looking around the room.
The desk is in the same position she remembers it, against a window covered by a dark pane. It's strangely reminiscent of the Revolution, the level of secrecy. There are a couple of paper birds on the desk. She reaches forward and grazes one of their wings, and it tips to the side. A faint smile curves her lips. Yet another piece of the puzzle she can't make quite sense of. She ignores the drawers—she already knows she'll find three guns and a set of throwing knives in there.
Two bookshelves line the sides of the room. She nears one to read the titles and jumps when she notices the large painting of Harry's father at the end of the room. She didn't remember it was there. She walks closer to it, studying the shredded face, frowning. His painting hanging there makes her think Harry respects him greatly, but the lack of care for it is confusing. There isn't even a sheet of glass to protect it.
Before she can stop herself, she lifts her hand and traces her finger over it. Her eyebrows furrow when she encounters some ridges in other parts of the painting—the hair, the jacket, the hands. She stops at the one over the heart, puzzled. Did it get ruined?
A sudden terribly foolish thought comes over her and she turns around, glancing at the second drawer. Don't be ridiculous, she tells herself. You're seeing things that aren't there. It wouldn't make any sense.
Still, Alouette walks to the desk and opens the drawer. The throwing knives shine in the dim warm light coming from above her head. She picks one up carefully, studying the blade. It's sharper than anything she's ever seen before. She goes back to the painting and studies the cut again. Then, with a moment of hesitation, she lifts the point of the blade to it and pushes it in slowly, carefully, not wanting to ruin the artwork more than it already has been.
It's a perfect fit. She bites her lower lip nervously. Harry is using his father's painting as a target for his throwing knives. It makes her uneasy. What could—
Three sentences Harry told her weeks ago come back to her mind. It was the day after he got hurt, after the night she spent sobbing on the floor. He whispered that confidence to her in a cold, hushed tone, soon after waking up. She doesn't even know if he remembers telling her at all—he was so out of it, that day. Back then she'd been spiralling, hanging between the horrifying memories of the night before, the relief of being by his side and the terror something would happen again and she wouldn't be able to save him, and his words hadn't properly registered in her mind. Now, though, they suddenly come back to haunt her.
My sister is dead.
My father killed her.
It was either her or me, I suppose.
The unfeeling, pragmatic way he told her sends shivers down her spine. She has no right to judge Harry for stabbing the portrait. She has no idea of what went on between him and his family while they were still around, but she knows it wasn't good. He wouldn't have run from the presidential apartments, otherwise. He wouldn't be covered in old scars.
Alouette shivers. Suddenly the study feels awfully cold. She picks up the phone from the desk and leaves the room, turning off the light and shutting the door, as if it could keep the ghosts of his unknown past on the other side.
She sits on the armrest of the couch, facing Northfair. The city seems dim in the cool, greyish morning light. She's never felt as uprooted as she does now. No matter how hard she tries, she doesn't think she can fully comprehend the world that surrounds her. Everything seems so normal yet slightly wrong, the same way you'd see a glass tipping before it falls.
She fiddles with the phone in her hands for a few long minutes, but at last she gives in. By now she knows the number by heart, and she types it in quickly, lifting the phone to her ear. It rings for a long moment, but then the call is picked up.
"Alouette or the President?" Ezra's voice says on the other side. He sounds oddly taunting, and it annoys her slightly.
"Can I talk to Amina?" Alouette breathes out. It's the first time she tries using the connection for personal reasons. She supposes she's being very unprofessional right now.
There's a silence. "She's in class."
She taps her foot nervously. "Can't you go get her?"
Ezra laughs. "It's not appropriate. She's in class with her classmates, I can't call her out for no reason."
"I want to talk to her."
"Then call back later tonight."
Alouette sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She's frustrated. She's angry at Harry for dismissing her like that, and at Ezra for not letting her talk to her sister. She thought everything would work perfectly when she went back to the Palace, but now she wonders if she doesn't risk everything falling apart instead. She came with Harry because he promised her he'd let her see Amina, but he isn't keeping his promises. All she's got to show for the past month is a name and a picture of a man, and she had no involvement with retrieving that information at all. And Harry is often busy, and she hasn't seen Amina in a month, and Jayden hates her, and Ezra is back to keeping her at a distance, and Jesse is filling her head with so many thoughts and is Ezra really—
"Alouette?" Ezra's voice says suddenly. She didn't even realise she went quiet.
"Can I still go back?" she blurts out. She doesn't really mean it—she doesn't think so, at least. But if Jesse is right, if he's truly understood what's going on, then...
"What are you talking about?"
"After this mission," she states, "can I come back home? After they're caught?" She only realises what a good trap she's weaved for him a moment later. If he truly intends for her to stay at the Palace forever, he won't let her go back.
"You've gone against us. I don't know if you can be trusted."
"I haven't!" Alouette stands up and starts pacing the room. "I've never gone against you. I've—We've had our differences. But I've always worked with you in mind. I might've gone against your orders, but everything I did, it was for you. My family. Because I knew there was another way—"
"I need people I can trust, Alouette," Ezra tells her. "I can't have people in my home going off on their own doing what they think is best. It's dangerous to the stability of us all."
"I could be one of them."
A long, evaluative silence follows. Alouette stops in front of the window and looks down—her head spins at how high above ground she is. "Tell you what," Ezra says in the end, "prove to me you can follow my orders until the end of this mission. If I decide you can be trusted, then I'll take you back under my roof."
Something in her chest jolts, but she doesn't know what it is. She doesn't want to go back—she only misses the Revolution because of Amina. And your father's legacy, a thought whispers in her mind. The Revolution was her father's lifelong dream. It's all he's strived to achieve, and the values he built it on are etched in every corridor and nook of it. Is it right to abandon it all?
Do you really believe Ezra is the best person to rule it?
She blinks quickly at the traitorous thought. She doesn't know where it's coming from. Nowadays, she doesn't know where a lot of things are from.
"Okay," she agrees.
"Good. Now, have you discovered anything else?"
A few cars race down the street, but not many. Alouette wonders if the news of what happened in Dacran has reached Northfair as well. Are people feeling uneasy and avoiding the main roads? The Shade hasn't attacked in over a month, but she knows it's only a matter of time. Soon they'll strike again, and she has the feeling the next target will be the capital. "No."
"Did you only call to talk to Amina?"
"Yes." Her honesty surprises her as well. "Her birthday is in two days. I don't think I'll be there."
"Her birthday, right, how could I forget? I'm sure it'll be fine." He clears his throat. "Well, if there's no point in this call I'll go, then. I'm quite busy at the moment. Make sure you have something to tell me the next time you check in. I have high expectations for you, Alouette. You're an Ivenhart, after all. You're meant for great things, and I'm sure you'll prove your worth soon."
The call is closed, and Alouette is alone again. She sighs again and throws herself back on the couch. If Ezra is open to taking her back after they take down the Shade, does it mean Jesse was wrong? If he wanted her to stay at the Palace, he would've told her so. Maybe she's starting to become too paranoid.
She puts the phone on the cushion next to her. She should bring it back to the study, but she doesn't feel like facing that ghastly room again.
She hides her face in her hands. She truly is starting to spiral—she can't even tell what is wrong anymore.
• • •
There's a knock at the door.
Alouette scrambles up to her feet. She can't even tell when she fell asleep, but from the stiffness in her bones she can tell it's been a couple of hours at the very least. She straightens her clothes and opens the door.
Her eyes widen. "Jayden."
"It's not like I want to be here," he says, mildly annoyed by her surprise.
"How long will you still—"
"Will I still...?"
Alouette clears her throat and looks away. "Nothing." She's starting to think there's no point in trying to talk to him. He doesn't want to listen. He'll never listen. "Why are you here?"
He stands straighter. "The President requires your presence for breakfast."
She frowns. "Breakfast? It must be near midday."
"So you're not coming?"
"I didn't say that." She walks in the corridor and closes the door, but then hesitates. She doesn't know Harry's new code, and it's unsafe to leave the door open.
"It locks automatically now," Jayden says, reading the look on her face, "and the code changes daily. We had to amp up security after you."
Alouette nods awkwardly and follows him down the corridor. He takes her one floor down, to the north dining room, without another word. It's been a few days since they've had breakfast as a team. It's never happened so late in the morning, though.
Jayden stops in front of the closed door. "In here," he tells her, even though it isn't the first time she comes here. He shoots her an unreadable glance, and then leaves.
Alouette lifts her hand to the handle, but stops in her tracks when she hears Jesse's voice on the other side.
"And then Mrs. Trout keeps swimming in the ocean..."
"Trouts are freshwater fish, you idiot," another voice adds in.
"Well this one likes exploring," Jesse bites back. "As I was saying Mrs. Trout keeps swimming in the ocean until she finds a colourful reef, and next to it there's a majestic purple octopus. So Mrs. Trout says, 'Hello Mr. Octopus. I'm looking for a pearl. Have you seen one?' And Mr. Octopus says—"
"Check the nearest lost-and-found!" a cheery voice adds in, and suddenly Alouette is pushing the door open and running inside.
"Amina?!"
Her sister looks up immediately. She's sitting next to Jesse, that's holding another toast fish and an upside-down radicchio that Alouette has the terrible feeling is supposed to resemble an octopus.
She stands up and runs to her, and Alouette hugs her tight.
"What—How—" she can only say, unable to believe her sister is really standing in front of her.
Amina laughs. "Surprise!"
Alouette looks around in shock, hoping to find an answer for the questions she can't seem to be able to let out. That's when she notices Elijah, sitting at the other end of the table with his arms crossed. A wave of emotion crashes through her, and she nearly starts crying. "How—how did this...?"
"Harry!" Amina exclaims. "He promised to let me come to the city of lights if I let you go."
"He did what? When?"
"Before you left. He came while I was still in class, and we made a deal!"
The memory rushes back to her. Amina telling her she was allowed to go away, mere days after making her promise not to ever leave her again. She'd been surprised by her change of heart then, but she'd accepted it gladly. She would've never thought he'd strike a deal with Amina, of all people. Such a harmless deal, too. He did it for you, her mind tells her. This morning and the other day, when she asked him to let her see her sister and he ignored her, he knew.
Alouette stands up and lets her sister guide her to the table. "And you?" she asked Elijah, and he shrugged.
"Someone needed to accompany her."
Alouette stops in her tracks. "Did he..."
"He never took me off the mission," Elijah said. "I thought he did, but he didn't. He needed someone we trusted to bring Amina to the Palace. That's why I didn't come right away."
That was why they'd only left the Revolution in two, even though Harry had allowed three members of the Revolution at the Palace. Elijah was the third—he'd always been the third. It'd been Harry's plan all along, and Alouette had never caught on.
Jesse holds a slice of melon in the shape of a smile up to his face. "Turns out Mr. President has an unexpectedly kind side. Now where were we? Oh yes! The lost and found..." He starts piling up pieces of food in his plate, and Alouette turns towards Elijah. The weight of everything that happened before she left is still heavy between them.
"Elijah, I..."
He gives her a tight smile. "Let's just work well and take the Shade down. We've always made a great team, after all."
Alouette smiles as well. "Right."
"And then, after—"
A screech interrupts him. "Jess-ee! You ate a piece of Mrs. Trout!"
"Oh, how dare I!"
Amina giggles. Jesse throws bread balls in the air made with the leftovers of Mrs. Trout, and one strikes Elijah. Elijah lets out an outraged sound and throws a bean at him.
Jesse gasps. "Oh I never! Friendly fire?! Now comes Mr. Octopus!" He reaches over the table holding the pitiful cooked radicchio by two leaves and waving them around like a madman, dropping oil all over the tablecloth, and Elijah nearly falls off his chair trying to get away. Amina is laughing so loudly she accidentally snorts the water she's drinking, and Jesse drops the radicchio on top of the melon slices to aid her.
Alouette chuckles, picking up one of the bread balls scattered around the table and putting it in her mouth. Earlier she was taken aback by seeing Amina and Elijah at the Palace, but now she wonders what she was so surprised by. Whether at the Revolution or with a backdrop of Northfair, family is still family.
And now she's home as well.
Thank you so much for the 567k reads on this story! It means a lot to me. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter x
Miki