THE REVOLUTION
Elijah is no stranger to darkness.
He lived in it a good part of his life, hiding away from the world like a scared little mouse, doing everything he was told without ever minding it. He's never been alone, though. Until now.
He's so alone.
Realistically, he knows he isn't. His father will be back from the generator in a few hours and complain when he'll see he's still in his bed.
He hasn't left it ever since he came back yesterday night. The dark now knows his name. He should stand up, shave his stubble and go back to his duties, he knows that. They aren't paying him to sit around. But he can't.
He can't, because Alouette was there.
He saw her.
She was as beautiful as ever, standing there in her black expensive clothes, looking every bit like the spy he knows she became. He had no doubt she'd make it, but the look on her face freaked him out all the same.
She was so concentrated, so... intent. She took two men down without flinching, one after the other. She moved from one corner of the room to the other quickly, like a ghost, too silent to be noticed.
And she pointed a gun at him. He did it too, but then he lowered his. For a moment, he could see the Alouette he knew in her eyes, that shard of an instant in which they widened as she recognised him. Never before he'd thought they'd stand on opposite sides, and yet there she was, shooting at the Revolution because the President had told her to, just like one of his guards.
He has no doubt that if he'd been anybody else, he'd be dead too.
But she recognised him, and for a second her eyes seemed so expressive, as if she was trying to tell him she missed him with a simple gaze. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her, he wanted to walk to her and spout some half-assed sarcastic comment about her having taken too long to show up, and then hug her so long that she complained about him being too cuddly.
She always did that. She always said he was too affectionate, and he always replied it wasn't his fault she was so cold. She usually slapped his arm playfully after that, but he knew that, deep down, she found it funny. She was always the first to go in for a hug when they were on the roof though, and then it was his turn to complain she was just using him for his warmth, and even though she agreed, she always shared her chocolates or peanuts with him— whichever it was she brought up as a snack.
That second ended too quickly, and all of a sudden that other dude was next to her. He tried to warn her, but he got to her before he could.
And then she pointed her weapon at him, and his heart stopped beating. Even though he wanted to believe she wouldn't shoot him, he couldn't help the fear that washed over him as one chilling thought crept up in his mind.
Would she kill him to prove her allegiance to the president?
He felt guilty in the second he realised what he was thinking about. He knew Alouette wasn't like that. They've been friends since forever, there was no way she would've hurt him. At the same time, though, he also knew her ambition and her need for perfection. Where would she draw the line?
She fired and it went in the wall, giving him time to hide. He knows it was on purpose— she rarely missed. It was enough for him to know her loyalty still lay with him. And then she distracted the guard, allowing him to run away.
And just like that, she was gone.
Nineteen hours later, he's still thinking about her. He can't stop her from crowding his every thought, her absence hurting a little more every time. He wonders if she's thinking about him as well, back at the fancy palace. If she wishes she was there with him instead of the expensive rooms she's now locked in, more like a prisoner than a guest.
There's a knock on the door.
"Elijah! Ezra wants to talk to you about the mission."
He sighs at the unknown voice. "I'll be there right away."
He listens to the sound of the steps as they fade away, and then finally stands up. His body is stiff and his joints are aching, but it's nothing he can't deal with. He grabs his father's coat, forgotten on a chair, and walks out of the small room. One day he'll become relevant enough in the hierarchy of the Revolution to earn his father and him a bigger place to sleep, he promises himself.
The walk to Ezra's office in the central building takes longer than he'd prefer, his perception of time distorted by all the hours he spent in his bed.
When he finally gets there, he can tell he's already waiting for him. He stops talking to one of the men of the Council and gives him a severe look.
"You report to me after your missions, Elijah," he states, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand. "Not hide in your room for days."
"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again," he apologises mechanically, but it's enough to satisfy him and he nods.
"The mission was a failure, of course. I'm not surprised, I knew it was a long shot when I planned it out. I did hope we would get lucky, though." He gives him an attentive look. "Is there something I should know about it?"
Elijah gulps. "Alouette was there," he says in a whisper.
Ezra seems to be surprised. Has no one told him? "Oh," he murmurs, "he's smart."
That doesn't reassure Elijah in the slightest. "Do you think he knows about her?"
"There's no way he knows. It looks like he sensed it was a trap, though," he replies. "Did she blow her cover?"
"We lost men at her hand." He doesn't need to say anything more for the other to know what it means.
Ezra smirks. "I knew she had it in her." He doesn't seem to be bothered by the fact that he's just told him she killed some soldiers of the Revolution in front of him— as if he expected her to. He isn't touched by the loss as long as she still holds her strategic position close to the president, because to him she's more useful than he is. Than they all are. He could be the one six feet underground and it wouldn't matter to him. It shakes him a little, but he knows that's how a leader must think. If he concentrated on saving everyone, he would save no one in the end. And if Alouette is higher in his list of priorities than him, he doesn't mind, because it means she's safe.
Elijah shifts awkwardly. To this day, he doesn't know why Ezra chose him to lead the mission. He's chosen him as the leader in many of the jobs he had over the past few weeks, and something tells him it isn't just because he's more skilled and determined than the others.
He has to prove himself. He has to show everyone he belongs here, in the Revolution, and even though he doesn't know much of Ezra's reasoning, he's glad he's giving him a chance to do just that.
"You can rest for some days," Ezra tells him. "Then we'll start planning the attack on the palace." He gives him a sharp look. "An attack you won't be part of, by the way."
"What? Why?!" Elijah feels cheated. It's the most important mission in front of him, why wouldn't he let him go? He can be an asset. He's good, and he knows it.
"Because many people will die there, and Alouette will kill me if you're one of them," he replies. "Be glad you have a way out, boy. A man isn't going to change what happens on the field."
Elijah clenches his teeth, not saying a word.
"It will be in twenty-five days, if everything goes according to plan. I believe you have valuable ideas and I admire your resolution, so you'll help us plan." He gives him an attentive glance. "And then you'll stay here and wait for your girl to come back. If all goes well, a month from now you'll hold her in your arms, and the world will be a better place."
The younger man nods. He hates being held back, but he has to admit the thought is indeed tempting.
"Go, now."
• • •
THE PRESIDENTIAL PALACE
Alouette is lying on her soft bed, back in her room at the palace. She hasn't come out of her room if not for meals for the past day, and even though she knows she'll have to go back to work today, she's considering not moving at all.
After all, what would Harry do if she just skipped? Would he even fire her, or would he just not care? She knows he's quite flexible with his own hours— coming and going as he pleases, sometimes disappearing in his studio for hours at a time— but she can't say with certainty to what standard he holds the people around him.
She can't believe she really saw Elijah. The past six weeks felt like a century, but when she saw him again it was like time hadn't passed at all. She'd do anything to be back at the Revolution right now instead of the palace, and spend her nights up on the roof with him like she used to. She misses it all. She misses him, she misses Amina, she even misses Elodie. She misses the Revolution. She misses people knowing her for who she truly is.
At the palace all she does is fake it, again and again and again. And even though Evie is nice and Harry, for some odd reason, seems to enjoy being around her enough to take her existence into consideration every once in a while, she knows they'd both end her if they found out who she is. Maybe not Evie, but she's sure Harry would make sure her body is never found again.
She groans and lies back down on the bed. Maybe she'll stay there forever instead.
A knock resonates in the room, and she looks up from the mess of blankets and pillows. She considers pretending not to be inside, but then the knock comes back, even more insistent than before.
She stands up and puts on a hoodie to hide how messy her clothes truly are in case it's someone important and goes to open the door.
She furrows her eyebrows when she takes in the ginger-haired man standing on the other side.
"I brought comfort food, how are you holding up?" He says, raising a white packet full of something sweet, judging from the smell, and it takes her a moment to realise he's the guard that was on the mission with her. "First kill is always hard, but you get used to it."
She smiles a bit and moves to the side. "Come in," she says, realising it was a bad idea when she takes in the awful state of her bedroom. "And thanks..."
"Jayden," he tells her. "The name's Jayden. I told you when we first met, but I have the memory of a goldfish as well, so I don't think I can judge you for forgetting."
Alouette lets out a laugh. "Thanks, Jayden," she repeats, "and you're right, I'm awful at remembering names."
"I feel your pain, Lark." He gives a good look around, not seeming to care about the mess. "Well look at that, they treat you well. Downstairs we live off stale bread and water and sleep on the floor."
She raises her eyebrows, and he doesn't miss the concern that flashes on her face.
"I'm kidding. It's nowhere near as fancy as this, though."
"I'm an assistant," she specifies with a little shrug, surprised by how it is to talk to him. She supposes it has something to do with being stuck in a potentially deadly situation with him. There can't be too many boundaries after that.
He nods. "Maybe I should've become an assistant too, then," he comments, irony in his voice.
She chuckles. "Maybe you should've."
"Is it too late for a career change?"
"I'd say yes."
He makes a face. "Too bad."
"I didn't expect you to come up here," Alouette says, opening the packet and discovering there's a delicious-looking doughnut inside. She takes it out and breaks it in half, her fingers sticking to its surface, and hands one to the boy.
"Yeah, getting the permit was hell, let me tell you. But I'm not like the guys downstairs, you know? If I risk being killed together with someone else, I try to at least say hi after."
"I appreciate you doing that," she replies taking a bite out of the sweet, the sugary taste filling her mouth. "And I also appreciate you bringing this. It's delicious."
"You're very welcome for that."
"So did you get a good grade for the mission?" She asks, suddenly remembering the conversation they had before the Revolution barged in.
He nods. "I got the full bonus, the general says I'll be one of the president's first choices when I'm finished in a month."
She doesn't know why it surprises her. "So soon?"
Jayden tilts his head. "I wouldn't say soon, I've been training for ten years."
Alouette gives him a shocked look. "I'm sorry, how old did you say you are again?"
He laughs. "You all react in the same way. So shocked," he comments. "I'm twenty, been training since I was ten. My uncle is part of the guard too, you know. I came to live with him here when I was five, so it was always the path for me."
"Well, I hope you'll get to join the secret service, then."
"I hope so too," Jayden says, "and maybe they'll give me a room like this too."
"Then we'd be neighbours," she comments, and he laughs.
"I'd be a great neighbour, let me tell you. I don't throw parties and I'm not against buying you sweets for breakfast. If you pay for the coffee, of course."
"Sounds like a dream." She doesn't know why it slightly upsets her to talk so nonchalantly of a future that will never happen. Maybe she feels a bit sorry she's about to ruin everything for him. He's always wanted to work for the president, what will he do when he's gone? Where will he go? She pushes the ridiculous thoughts to the back of her mind.
He passes a hand through his coppery red hair, messing it up. "I have been told I'm quite dreamy."
Someone comes in and hands Alouette a note, and she realises only then that the door to her bedroom is still open. She checks the piece of paper, frowning when she realises it's in Evie's handwriting.
You have to talk to the president in ten minutes. He doesn't like how you shut him out.
She sighs. She still hasn't seen him, since she went to her room as soon as she got back, and she tried her best to avoid him too. She knows how hard it is to trick him, and she fears he'll be able to read her heartbreak on her face if she talks to him so soon. But now it's been a couple of days and talking to Jayden has calmed her down as well, so maybe she can pull it off.
"Official correspondence? You are in demand, huh?" Jayden says, and she glances back at him. She doesn't know if she enjoys talking to him or if she hates him for being so easy-going, because she's supposed to deeply dislike everyone that works in the palace— especially the guards.
"Of course. My presence is enough to make someone's day better, didn't you know?" She jokes back.
"You did make my day better by helping me not to die the other day, so I'm inclined to believe you."
Alouette laughs. "Yeah, you're welcome for that."
Jayden chuckled. "I'll see you around then, Lark. If you ever come down, because I'm not sure I'll be able to get permission to come here again."
"I sure will."
He leaves, and Alouette left to stare at the note in her hand. She finishes the doughnut and then changes into some more appropriate clothes quickly before leaving, knowing it's better not to get to the meeting late that time.
Harry is busy when she walks into his office. He's standing next to his desk, his long fingers between the paper sheets of a folder. The light of the late afternoon comes in through the window, reflecting off his rings. Alouette is sure she could feed a family of the Revolution for at least six months with the jewellery on his hands.
"You didn't come into work yesterday," he states, not even raising his gaze. He's still flicking through the papers, an unusually severe look on his face, that scares her even though she knows she isn't at fault this time.
"I asked for permission."
It's only then that he looks at her. "I know. Evie sent in the papers." His eyes seem golden, the sunlight meeting the light green of his irises. She wonders how such a warm colour can belong to such a dark, manipulative person.
Alouette doesn't say a word, and he rounds the desk to get to her.
"I'm sorry," he says, surprising her. "I didn't mean for you to get caught in the crossfire in such a way. I'll make sure to provide you with a firearm the next time."
She lets out a shocked laugh at the absurdity of his words. Does he truly think the issue is that he didn't give her a gun before sending her off to kill people—and hopefully not get killed? How can he be so unaware?
"What is it?"
She shakes her head in disbelief. She doesn't know if to be outraged or feel sorry for him. How can someone have such twisted priorities? "You're so... detached from reality," she replies. "It's like nothing could ever touch you. Like you're above it all."
"I am above it all, Lark."
The unsettling calmness in his voice sends a shiver down her spine. She doesn't know what's scarier, if the fact that he truly believes it, or the one that he isn't afraid of telling her as well. It's one of those sentences that allow who he truly is to shine through, and she isn't sure she likes what she sees. Behind his arrogance and dry humour there's a black hole, a darkness stemming from him that she fears will infect her too if only she gets too close.
"Like a spectator?" Alouette asks, intrigued yet terrified of what he might say.
"I've never been one for playing by the rules," he states dismissively, walking to the small table next to the door and picking up the bottle on it, his back to her. "You know, some people see life as a play, in which every actor plays a specific role. What they don't understand, though, is that sometimes it's what happens in the pause between the acts that changes everything." He turns around, taking a sip from a crystal glass while he looks at her, leaning back against the table. "I make my move in the interlude, Lark, because that's when people take their guard down. I step in and have the layout changed while no one's looking. So yes." His lips curl up slightly. "I am a spectator. Until I choose to become the director."
Alouette narrows her eyes at him, but doesn't dare say a word. She doesn't trust the things that would come out of her mouth if she did.
"You may leave," Harry shrugs, putting the glass down.
She nods and walks to the door, but he grabs her by the arm when she walks past him, making her come to a halt instantly. Her skin tingles in the spot his fingers are pressed against, and she doesn't know what to think anymore. It isn't like him to touch her like that.
His eyes stare into hers, and all of a sudden she doesn't know if she wants to beg for forgiveness or slam him against the wall— both with a firearm involved and not. Then, when she's becoming so restless she's about to wrench her arm out of his grip and run away, he speaks.
"You did well, Lark."
She looks down. "Thank you," she says in a whisper, not knowing if he's praising her for getting his book or killing someone.
Knowing him, it's probably both.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. x
Miki