Alouette is walking back to her bedroom when she sees her President leave a room she's never noticed before. "Harry?"

His head snaps in her direction and for an instant his eyes widen. "Stay there," he says, a hint of urgency in his voice, and she stops immediately. She's never seen him so disconcerted before.

"Why?"

"Will you tell Evie to come here?" He asks instead, and she forces herself to nod and turn around, ignoring the need to go to him to see what's wrong.

When she gets back to the office Evie is sitting at her desk, typing something away on the keyboard. She looks up from the screen of her laptop and gives her a confused look.

"I thought you were going back early today?"

"I met Mr. Styles on the way there. He says he needs you. I think it's urgent," Alouette tells her, and the other nods.

"I see," she says slowly, saving her file and turning off her laptop. "I might know what this is about. Downstairs, isn't that right?"

"Yeah, it's on the floor with the bedrooms."

Evie walks past her, her heels tapping on the marble floor. "Did you happen to... find out... what this is about?"

"Not really."

"Good. That's good."

Alouette chases her to the lift. "Why is it good?"

"No specific reason," Evie replies. "Things can get a bit... intense at the Palace, at times. Problems have messy solutions sometimes."

They get in the lift and the doors close in front of them, and Alouette doesn't say a word even though the other woman's words are all but dismissed. Has Harry done something he wouldn't want her to find out about? She tries to push the thought away, knowing that curiosity will consume her if she focuses on something she doesn't have the necessary tools to figure out for way too long. There's no need to start getting too interested in things that don't concern her mission, she's already threading on thin ice as it is. She wouldn't want the President to realise who's in front of him because of her acting suspiciously.

The lift stops one floor below and they step out again, and Alouette takes her to the mysterious room.

Harry is still there, waiting with his back to the door and a look that's so dark and threatening in his eyes that nobody walking by dares to come closer to find out what's going on. His hair is a bit mussed, and she wonders what must've happened that has made him run his fingers through it like that. He's usually very cool and composed, and while she can't say he's acting like a normal person would when they're stressed out, she can see there's some very well hidden uneasiness in his movements.

"You requested my presence, sir?" Evie asks him even though it isn't necessary, considering he's been staring at them since they turned the corner.

He gives her a faint nod, and his eyes shift to Alouette's for a second before looking back at her. "There's a task for you, I left all the necessary information inside." His voice is a little lower than usual, and a thrill courses through Alouette when his moss green gaze lands on her again. "Ms. Ewing and I will be leaving now."

Alouette rises an eyebrow, but Harry grabs her forearm and takes her away before she can say anything. He doesn't walk quickly but he also doesn't walk slowly, making it a little hard for her to follow him on her high heels. He doesn't seem to notice, too eager to leave the corridor.

He only slows down when they turn the corner. "I see you decided to leave early today," he comments, and she can't tell what his thoughts are about it.

"I finished my tasks earlier than usual, so Evie allowed me to go back to my rooms." She turns to look at him, frowning. "Your jacket is crumpled," she tells him, stretching out a hand to fix the back for him, but he puts some distance between them before she can touch him.

"Oh, my bad. How impolite of me."

His jacket rises a bit while he's fixing it and Alouette gulps when she recognises the shape of a weapon hidden under his clothes.

He notices the shocked look on her face. "You look surprised."

"I just..." She lets her voice drift away when she realised she doesn't know what to say. Why is she so shocked by the fact that he's carrying a weapon? She knows who he is.

He hums. "Don't tell me you'd idolised me, Lark." He chuckles, but seems tense. "So naïve, don't you know you'll only set yourself up for disappointment that way?"

"Are you trying to scare me away, Harry? Because I'm not so easily moved." She's lying, but only partially. He doesn't scare her, but even if he did, she wouldn't be able to leave his side. After all, he has a mission to complete.

"I see." He seems to be a little more relaxed now, and she wonders if their exchange had anything to do with it. Was he scared she'd run away? "Perhaps we should see each other more often, then."

Her head snaps in his direction. "Perhaps we should," she replies, trying to cover up her initial shock.

"May I invite you to dine with me tonight?"

Alouette purses her lips to keep a smile from showing on her face. Has he finally stopped being so complicated? Their continuous push-and-pull is starting to wear her out, there's nothing she wants more than to get past his walls. She doesn't let herself think much more ahead than that, though. But even though his request comes unexpected, she knows that seeming too eager would only make him run away from her. "You may," she replies, "whether I'll accept your invite or not will be another deal though."

He gives her a little dark smile. "Are you playing with me again, Lark?"

The memory of the conversation she had with him in her bedroom some nights ago comes back to her and she blushes. She looks away quickly, but he puts a finger under her chin and turns her head towards him.

"Come to the north dining room at eight if you want that friendship you so highly requested, Lark," he whispers against her lips, and then his touch disappears as if it's never been there and he walks away.

Alouette watches him leave, butterflies still fluttering in her stomach. Then, she scoffs at her own behaviour and walks back to her room. She can be so ridiculous at times.

She steps inside and sits on the bed, checking the time and discovering it's only six in the evening. No wonder Harry was surprised to see her roam the corridors, usually they go on until at least seven.

She sighs and lies down, putting her head on the pillow and staring at the white ceiling above her head. She hasn't had some time to think in days. She turns towards the window, the sky outside is dark. She wonders if Dacran is enlightened tonight, if it looks just as bright as she remembers it. If Elijah is on the roof back at the Revolution. If the lights of the city make him think of her as well.

In a week from now she'll be back home. Seven days seem too long, but at the same time they aren't many. Will she be able to pull her trap together with the little time she was given? She feels a bit uneasy, but she can't tell why. After all, she's always known what that whole experience was leading to.

Only seven days. Then she'll see Amina and Elijah again, and Elodie, and Ezra, and everyone back at the Revolution. Her family. Maybe things will be better then.

She feels a little sick and turns to her side, opening the drawer of her nightstand and taking out her father's book. She absentmindedly flicks through the pages until she encounters the missing one. The one that was ripped away so carefully that she can't bring herself to believe it was accidental. If only she could know what was written on it, if only there was a way...

Alouette knows she's being stupid and that it probably means nothing, but she can't bring herself to dismiss it. Maybe her father was going crazy and wasted time reading about birds and writing down incomprehensible notes at the end of books, maybe he was just playing around. But she remembers him, and she remembers he did nothing without a reason. She just wants to know why. Maybe if she makes sense of his past actions she won't feel so abandoned anymore.

What was written on that page? Not knowing makes her restless. If only...

She frowns, suddenly remembering a vital detail.

The book Harry asked her to get for him. It's the same one. Maybe that one isn't missing a page.

Maybe she's willing to risk it all to appease her own curiosity.

She's always known it'd take her down one day.

She has to get a hold of Harry's copy.

• • •

Truth be told, not even in her wildest dreams Alouette has imagined herself to be in this situation.

It's only been two months since she first stepped foot into the Palace, but it feels like much longer. When she first got there she thought Harry would be her enemy, that he'd either ignore her or hate her.

She would've never even imagined she'd be sitting here, right across from him, dining at his same table. It's nothing like the night of the celebration. This time they're a bit farther away, but they're alone. They're completely alone, and she's a bit intimidated.

For the first ten or so minutes silence hangs heavy above them, only being interrupted by some small conversation from time to time. She's inadvertently shooting down all Harry's comments, and he seems to be finding some hidden irony in it. It's hard to get a hold of herself when he's sitting right there, and he knows it. He isn't smiling, but she knows he's laughing at her behind his carefully built façade.

"It was quite unexpected of you to ask me to join you for dinner," she forces herself to say, taking a long sip of her wine.

The light is bright but not strong, and the reflection of the room on the floor-to-ceiling window makes it seem so much bigger than it already is. Northfair is shining on her left like a midsummer night sky, drawing a faint violet hue on their crystal glasses.

Harry smiles, lowering his gaze. "Unexpected? I'd say it's a natural progression of events." He puts down his steak knife, and Alouette stares at it for just a second too long. "Besides, it's been a while since the last time we properly talked, hasn't it?"

She hums, suddenly being reminded of all the confusing but intriguing conversations they used to have at the start. It feels like a century ago, now. "Are you going to take me on another philosophical quest, Harry?"

He chuckles. "I've had enough of philosophy, Lark. It hardly solves anyone's problems."

She nods, stabbing a roasted carrot with her fork and putting it in her mouth, chewing it with a pensive look on her face. "Do you usually dine alone?" She ends up asking, even though she can already imagine the answer to that question.

"I do. Why?" He's been sipping his red wine for the last minute or so, taking his time to enjoy the taste. Alouette doesn't know enough about it to be able to tell what kind it is, but she also doesn't want to ask him directly.

"It must get lonely."

He pauses. "I'm not much for company," he then says, going back to his food, a slight restlessness in his fingers. She's already seen it once before. Is he nervous?

Alouette tilts her head, observing him. He's dressed differently tonight. She noticed in the second she saw him. He's still wearing one of his usual black suits, but this time around there's some lacy decoration on the white shirt. She's never seen him wear it before. She didn't even know he owned something as pretty as that.

"And yet here you are."

He taps his finger against the glass, there's a lipstick stain on it. He hasn't shot a video earlier that afternoon. "Do you enjoy my company, Lark?"

Her reply comes out more honest than she expected it to be. "Weirdly enough, I do."

Harry seems to be taken aback for a moment, but the surprise quickly fades away from his gaze. "Why would it be weird?"

Alouette bites her lower lip nervously. She can't tell him the truth, and she tries to come up with a believable lie. "Because I work for you."

He lets out a faint laugh. "That doesn't say much. Everyone works for me."

"Well isn't that right?" She glances down and moves the food around on her dish a little. She's too nervous to be hungry, all she can think about is all the reasons why he asked her to dine with him. She can't make sense of it. What does he expect to gain from it? "Do you enjoy my company, sir?"

"Weirdly enough, I do."

Alouette looks up fast and titters. "Why would it be weird?"

"Because you work for me," he replies, and at this point she's sure he's playing around with her. "And yet, you don't seem to be afraid to speak your mind in my presence."

She cocks her head. "What kind of alliance would ours be if I were to fear you?"

"A mostly one-sided one, I must admit," Harry gives in.

"And one-sided alliances aren't real alliances. They're just a nice way to refer to servitude."

He puts down his cutlery and puts his chin on his hand. "Isn't your mind such a captivating place?"

She shrugs, finishing her contents of her own glass before replying. "At least one of us should be captivating. Things would get boring here otherwise."

Harry chuckles and stands up, taking the bottle from the table and walking to her side. "More wine, Lark?"

"Look at you, offering me drinks again," she says even though she nods, "I'm really starting to get convinced it's a habit of yours."

The corners of his lips rise up as he pours some more wine in her glass, its red dark compared to the white of the tablecloth. "It looks like you have me all figured out, then." He puts the bottle down and leans against the table, raising his knee on top of it.

Alouette moves her almost empty dish to the side, not wanting his trousers to accidentally get dirty. "Please, sir," she says, "not nearly as much as I'd like."

Harry looks away, allowing her to stare at him unnoticed. The decoration of the white dress shirt is poking out of the sleeves of his black jacket, and it makes her a bit giddy to know he dressed a little more elegantly than usual just to dine with her.

"How are you finding working here?" He asks, and she shrugs.

"It's quite nice," she admits. Despite what she heard before coming to the Palace, Harry isn't a bad boss. He's a bit picky and petty and stubborn and way too confident at times, but he isn't nearly as bad as he was made out to be. "Even though lately someone keeps trying to distract me while I'm at work."

He tuts. "Oh, that's most unfortunate. Should I have them fired, then?"

"Planning on retiring so soon, sir?"

Harry gives her a faint smile. "I'm certain many people would like that. Unfortunately, I'm not much of a people pleaser."

Alouette makes to reply, but his head snaps up in the direction of the door on her right. He inhales sharply, and then glances back at her.

"Shall we go somewhere more private?" He asks her, standing up without waiting for her to say a word. "This Palace has eyes and ears at times."

She follows him as he walks to the door behind her. He uses a key to open it, and soon enough they're out in the corridor. There aren't many people around but it also isn't empty, and Harry makes his way to his studio quickly, glaring at everyone that dares to look at him.

"Not much of a people pleaser?" Alouette says when they stop in front of its door, "maybe you chose the wrong career path, then."

"Do you truly think this is a wise turn for this conversation to take?" Harry teases her, unlocking the door and letting her walk in first before following her inside.

"I'm just trying to understand you," she defends herself.

He closes the door. "And how's that going so far?"

"Badly, sadly. I don't know anything about you." She nears one of the bookshelves and reads the titles of the books on it, in an attempt to both distract herself and find out the whereabouts of his book, all too aware of her newfound resolution. Will a week be enough for her to get a hold of it? Maybe she should ask for some more time.

"What would you like to know?"

"Easy things." She grazes the covers, but none of those is familiar to her. "Like, what's your favourite colour?"

"My favourite... my favourite colour?" He sounds genuinely surprised and she turns her head to look at him. He slides his finger over the liquor bottles on the dark wooden table, but doesn't pick up any.

"What is it?" she urges him when he doesn't reply.

Her words are followed by silence, and for a moment she fears she crossed a boundary. "I..." he starts, but goes silent right after. She's never seen him so indecisive before, and for some reason it terrifies her. "I hate green," he then shares, his voice low. "Yellow is too bright."

She turns her back to the bookshelf. "What about red?"

Harry's gaze darkens. "I hate red as well. I truly hate red."

"Purple?"

"It's childish."

"And blue?"

"I miss when the sky looked like that."

His words break something inside of her and she almost starts crying. Sometimes she forgets that she and Harry are almost the same age and grew up in the same world. Maybe they aren't so different in that sense. "I do too."

He shrugs. "I suppose I like grey."

Alouette gives him a curious look. "Why?"

"It's noncommittal. It has no expectations. It goes with everything."

"I don't think I've ever seen you wear grey."

The look on Harry's face turns serious. "It's not for me to wear."

Alouette looks away, not knowing what to reply. She knows enough about Harry to know that if she tries to discover the hidden meaning behind his words, she'll be at it for days.

"What's your favourite colour, Lark?" He asks unexpectedly.

"I like green," she replies honestly.

He's a little taken aback, but he doesn't necessarily seem to be disappointed. "Green?"

She nods. "Like grass, how you see it in the movies. Like summer leaves and grapes, apples and..." She looks up at him, and her breath dies in her throat when she realises he's much closer than she expected him to be.

"And?"

Alouette gulps, looking into his eyes. His very green eyes. "And... other things."

He must've sensed the truth in the awkwardness in her voice, because he looks away quickly and clears his throat.

His reaction makes her feel even more embarrassed, and she has to fight the need to escape from the situation and keeps her feet glued to the ground.

"What's your favourite book?" she asks fast, trying to push the conversation past that slump.

"I don't read."

"You don't read?" Her surprise quickly fades away when she remembers who he is. He doesn't strike her as the kind of person that would pick up a book and read for a little bit just to have fun.

"What's yours?"

"Oh, I don't read either." She lets out a little laugh. It's a half-truth— while she spent more hours than she can count on her father's book, she hasn't read other works for quite some time. "Do you write?"

Harry raises an eyebrow. "I most definitely do not write."

"What do you do in your free time?" Alouette asks, giving up.

"What free time?"

She sends him a sympathetic look. "That's a little sad, I won't lie."

"Oh, Lark," Harry says, walking towards the door of the studio. "Why don't you go to sleep?"

"But I have more questions."

It takes him a moment to assess the situation and decide what to do. "Shoot."

Alouette says the first thing that pops up in her mind. "What's your favourite food?"

"I don't have a favourite food."

"Favourite drink?"

"Bourbon."

"Why?"

He thinks about it for an instant before replying. "I suppose I like the way it makes me feel."

She gives him a curious look. "How does it make you feel?"

Harry takes a step forward. "Now, don't you think you're starting to cross some boundaries?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just curious about you," she replies fast. It'd be so stupid if he grew suspicious of her for simply trying to find out more about him, of all the things he could discover her from. "Because you confuse me."

"I confuse you?"

"Very much so, Harry."

"My apologies. It isn't my intention to come across as confusing." She can't tell why, but somehow it comes across as a lie.

"Have you always lived in the Palace?" She asks him, changing topic.

He tenses up. "Pardon?"

"I was just wondering."

"I have," he tells her, but it's clear that he doesn't enjoy the turn that conversation is taking. She wonders why. "My father was the President long before I was born."

"The population never knew much about you until you became President, though," she says, voicing one of the things she's been thinking about since the first time he appeared on TV. "Did he keep you sheltered?"

His position becomes stiffer. "I wouldn't say he kept me... sheltered."

"That was a quite personal question, I'm sorry I asked that, sir," she backs away quickly, realising that she's probably crossed a boundary.

He turns his back to her and goes back to tapping on the crystal bottles on the table. He seems to be choosing one, but then he decides against it and glances at her from over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Lark. I set you up."

She gives him a confused look. "What?"

"I knew there was a chance the Revolution would show up at that apartment. I sent you there on purpose."

Alouette doesn't know whether she feels betrayed or absolutely terrified by the reason behind his actions. "Why?"

"It isn't easy to find people that can be trusted," he tells her. "I'm glad I wasn't wrong about you."

There's a sudden pang in her chest, but she forces herself to ignore it. "You can trust me, sir." Lie. She's starting to feel sick, now.

"You'd never lie to me, would you, Lark?"

"I'd never." Lie. Why does she feel like this all of a sudden?

"I'd never lie to you either."

She looks away and draws in a silent but shaky breath.

"Lark."

She looks up, he's standing right in front of her. His green eyes—his stupid, absurdly green eyes—are looking for hers and somehow ease her scattered feelings. His hand is on her arm and she doesn't know when it got there, but she can feel its warmth spread through her arm like a welcoming fire.

"Thank you." He pulls her a little closer to him and she can feel his presence seep down into her bones.

"What for?" She doesn't even know what she's talking about anymore.

He leans in, and if Alouette didn't hate herself before she certainly does now. "Choosing to spend your evening with me," he whispers.

She grabs him by his tie and pulls him into a kiss.

In the moment his lips touch hers the world stops existing. Reality is all but a faint presence muddled up in the corner of her brain, a faraway echo drowned by the electricity released by his touch on her.

She wraps her arms around his neck and presses her body to his. His mouth is on her mouth and her heart is in her throat and her mind is in the stars. His hands graze her waist and she feels so happy that she could cry, even though she doesn't know why.

She'd never imagined being in his arms would feel like home, but there she is, so free and effervescent, her skin is tingling and her thoughts are at peace for the first time in so long, and she lets herself be taken away by the tide.

All of a sudden a knock resonates through the room and they're forced to break apart.

"Sir? It's about the task you issued earlier."

Harry sighs and walks to the door. His hands are still on her and he inadvertently takes her with him, his fingers wrapped around her wrist.

He opens the door. "My office in five," he says to the guard on the other side, that Alouette recognises as the head of security.

He nods and disappears, and they're alone in the corridor again.

Harry locks the door of his studio and turns to look at her, pulling her closer to him once again. "Before I go, I want you to know one thing," he says, his voice low.

His hand finds its way to her lower spine and now her heart is fluttering and her feelings are all over the place again. He grazes her jaw with his lips and a thrill runs through her as he murmurs his parting words to her.

"I did try to stay away from you, Lark."

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. x
Miki