An address and two words.

Your turn.

Alouette knows a dare when she sees one. They've shot at her and chased her right to the heart of the world that used to be hers, and all because of this—a slip of paper.

She shouldn't be considering this—but what other possibilities does she have? She didn't leave the Palace with the intention to be targeted—in truth, she thought no one but Harry would care. Clearly, she thought wrong, and this message is the proof—a way to something. And she's so tired of being stuck. This, whatever it is, could lead to something, and she's too desperate to turn her back to it.

It doesn't surprise her that she decides to go—she's known she would in the instant she read the message. She wonders if that makes her predictable—but even though she may be, she doesn't want to be foolish. She's been foolish all this time, and she has no intention of repeating her own mistakes.

She's going to go, but she isn't doing it alone.

She's going to get a hold of the Palace—but how? There's no time to drive all the way there and back again—for all she knows, it's a time-limited offer. She gets back to the car and put the message in her pocket, breath hitching when her fingers graze the edge of the picture. She doesn't know why she took it with her—she didn't put it away intentionally. She doesn't pull it out. If she sees her father's eyes again, she fears she may start crying.

She closes the car door with a loud slam. What to do? Her heart beats faster. She doesn't have long to make a decision. Beyond the windshield, the headlights flash on the asphalt of the long road stretched before her. The night is so dark that she can see nothing in the distance. A sudden memory comes back to her, unwarranted and unwanted. A night of several months ago, spent on a dark road just like this one, in a car just like this. The only difference is that then she wasn't so alone. She draws in a breath through her clenched teeth. Don't cry, don't cry, she tells herself. Everyone is a bird. Everyone is a bird. Everyone is a bird—

My lark.

A shudder comes over her. No. She will not think about this. She'll never think about this again. She feels sick, now. All those nights they spent next to each other, the moon their only witness. His smile in the darkness. His scent that was also hers. Stop. She won't think about this again.

The warmth of his body next to hers, the wind freezing her down to her bones all the same. The night tinged with smoke as they lay on the asphalt on their backs, the red light of the fire illuminating their faces. That laugh—his laugh. No. She will not—

A gasp leaves her mouth. That's it. How could she forget? That's how she gets the Palace's attention.

She starts the engine and drives to the closest city she can find—a small town between Dacran and Greenside, away from prying eyes. She shoots through the large streets, looking for the perfect spot—somewhere abandoned, full of corners dark enough to hide in. Somewhere that won't catch too much attention.

It isn't too hard to hard to find—after the explosions in Dacran and the Palace's attack in Greenside, the ones that could have left their homes and moved to safer corners of the country. It takes Alouette less than an hour to find an empty street to park in, only taking a quick detour to buy some necessities—a bottle of vodka, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter—at the closest store. She pays with her Palace-issued card again.

She gets out of the car in the empty street and does a thorough check of the trunk—another torch, but nothing else. No weapons, especially. A tremor shakes through her. This could be dangerous.

She pulls out the cigarette and holds it between her lips as she lights the end. The night is cold, but there's no wind. It catches instantly. She takes a drag and looks up at the black sky. It's been a long time since the last time she's smoked—she wasn't alone then, too. She breathes out and watches the grey threads dissipate against the dark night. It makes her feel more at ease. She opens the bottle of vodka, and its alcoholic, pungent smell hits her nose. The past twenty days have been so fucked up that she considers taking a sip or two—maybe more—to make it all go away for a while, but she doesn't. She didn't buy it with the intention of getting drunk.

She takes another drag from the cigarette and closes her eyes. It's so easy to be here like this—alone, with the night and the silence as her only company. The moments before disasters are always the sweetest. But she has things to do, and her plans don't actually include enjoying a cigarette in a dark, empty street. A smile curves her lips—if she isn't wrong, she's about to wreak havoc within the Palace single-handedly.

Alouette gives one last glance around and then moves quickly. Within a matter of minutes, the car is on fire. She watches the flames travel through the back seats to the front, quick on their alcoholic bed. She tosses the cigarette into the car as well and steps into a side street. The nicotine has eased her nervousness, but adrenaline spreads through her all the same when she watches the reflection of the flames on the opposite wall rise with a roar, thick smoke in the air.

The explosion is so violent that it knocks her to the ground. She screams. Her ears whistle. Broken pieces fall on the main road with a clang, in her line of sight. She hides her head in her knees. Her heart is in her throat. A second explosion rattles the ground, and she lets out a broken sob, covering her ears with her hands. Everyone is a bird. Everyone is a bird.

The night falls silent once more. Slowly, Alouette lifts her head. She's shaking so violently that it takes her a long moment to realise she's sobbing. Her breath hitches in her throat. There's so much smoke, and she can't breathe, she—

Her vision swims and she falls limp against the wall. She can't stop crying.

Everyone is a bird. Everyone is a bird. Everyone is a bird.

My lark.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop. It.

She doesn't know how long she stays there crying. When her sight clears, the smoke in the air is almost gone. She stands on shaking legs and steps back into the main street. Destruction is all around her. She avoids the flaming pieces of metal as she pics her way back to the car. The fire is still rising high towards the sky, but it's starting to dim out. Still, it's not safe to stay here next to it. It might explode again.

She walks back to her hiding place in the other street. Something thick is in her pocket, and when she feels it with trembling hands she's surprised to find the packet of cigarettes. She's about to throw it into the fire, but then she rethinks it and pulls out a second cigarette. She kneels next to a piece of plastic on fire—maybe the wheel, maybe something else, it's hard to tell—and lights the cigarette on it. She throws the rest of the packet in the car fire and leans against the wall, just into the side street to be partially hidden from view, watching the wreck from a safe distance.

Now, it's time to wait.

She takes a long drag from the cigarette, willing herself to stop the shudder in her limbs. She needs to calm down. She doesn't know what's wrong with her, but it needs to stop. She can't already be in well over her head—there's no time for her bullshit. The smoke from the cigarette mixes with the one lingering in the air. She's already regretting lighting it—she doesn't know what she thought it would do. All she can think of is all the people she's smoked with in the past—Harry, Elijah, a few other people she hasn't thought of in years, and that probably aren't even alive anymore.

A shudder comes over her. She shouldn't be thinking this way. It doesn't help. Everyone is a bird. Everyone is a bird.

The streetlight above her head flickers, and she looks up at it anxiously. The thought of being left in the only light of the car fire makes her nauseous. Everything that reminds her of Harry makes her feel sick—every moment, every whisper, every laugh. She hates it all so much—she hates that the first feeling that overcomes her when she thinks about it isn't hate, but something unfamiliar and sharp-clawed that digs too deep for her liking. Not being able to name her enemies easily makes her feel so guilty. It was much easier to hate when she felt so angry. Now, all she wants to do is cry. Constantly. She's so exhausted. If it wasn't for her sister, she'd already have run somewhere no one would be able to find her and hid away from the world for the rest of her life.

Nothing makes sense. The more she tries solving the mysteries in her life, the more everything else loses meaning. The threads of her life are coming unspooled at last, and it terrifies her to find out there's no underlying pattern, because she's never taken care to create one. Nothing makes sense, because she's never tried to give anything a meaning. What right does she have to demand clarity from a world she's run away from for so long?

What are you doing, Alouette?

Flailing, desperate to stay afloat. Trying to find her path in the stars, unaware that they spin together with her. We'll take you everywhere and nowhere. Even the infinite possibilities of the world can become none to someone that's lost, and she's so terribly lost. She doesn't feel like an adult. Whoever decided she was ready to make her own way in the world instead of clinging to her mother's skirts? She may be twenty-three, but she still feels like checking underneath her bed for monsters and crying herself to sleep in the darkness.

Get it together. Her sister depends on her. She should try to find her way, if not for herself, then for Amina. She's counting on her, and it hurts because Alouette wouldn't even count on herself.

She finishes the cigarette and throws it in the dying fire. She's so done with everything. Existence makes her want to scream. But she doesn't—she stays there, leaning against the wall, and waits.

She doesn't need to wait too long.

It's only been a little over an hour since the car exploded when another car identical to it pulls into the street. It parks at a safe distance from the wreck and a figure in black steps out. The man draws near to the still burning vehicle with an unsure step, like he doesn't quite know what to make of it. He checks inside, hand on the weapon at his side.

She comes up behind him, unseen and unheard in the crackling of the flames. "Hello."

He whips around, and she finds herself staring down the barrel of a gun. A moment of silence. Then, "The hell's wrong with you?"

She knows that voice.

Gray steps away from the fire to properly look at her and puts away the gun. His blond hair is tied in a ponytail, and he's wearing the black uniform of the personal guard. "I could've shot you."

"Good thing you didn't, then."

He crosses his arms. "If you've decided to fake your death, coming out to greet me is stupid."

She narrows her eyes. She can't stand the condescension in his tone. It makes her feel young and foolish, and she hates it. She hates it, because that's exactly the thing that screwed her over twenty days ago. "I just wanted to contact the Palace."

He laughs. "Right, because we get notified when our cars blow up. If you needed a phone you could've just asked for one before leaving."

"I wasn't planning on this." She frowns. "Why did they send you? I wasn't expecting the personal guard."

"I was the closest one," Gray replies. "I'm going to Pans. Was, I'm guessing now."

She doesn't say a word.

"Well, you wanted the Palace's attention, now you have it. What do you want?"

Alouette clenches her teeth. She doesn't like Gray much—he has a way of behaving that makes her feel like he's constantly undermining her. She was hoping she'd be sent an average soldier, maybe someone younger than her, easier to order around. Gray is risky because he's part of the personal guard, and the personal guard is loyal to Harry, first and foremost. This is a dangerous game to play, but she doesn't have many options now. She either convinces Gray, or she goes alone. And she isn't that desperate yet. "Someone has been following me for a while," she forces herself to say.

Gray rolls his eyes—his blond hair flashes golden in the light of the fire. "Oh, dear. I already hate where this is going."

She shuts him up with a glare. She doesn't want to do this—not with him, especially—but gives up and tells him what happened, taking care not to mention anything that doesn't have to do with the issue at hand.

When she finishes, he lets out a half-hearted hum. "You made that huge mess in the Palace last night just because you were feeling nostalgic and wanted to go home? This is ridiculous."

"Did you fucking listen to me?!"

Gray cocks his head. "So you got a shady message daring you to show up at an equally shady address. Let me guess, you're gonna barge right in. That sounds exactly like the kind of thing you'd do."

Alouette reels back. His words sting more than she'd like to admit. "It's not a bad idea."

"Oh, it's a terrible one. Probably the worst you've ever had, and you tried to infiltrate the Palace once."

She scoffs. The heat from the fire hides the sudden embarrassed warmth that spreads to her cheeks. "If you don't want to help you can just leave and I'll take care of this on my own," she bites back. She has no time for this. For all she knows, she might be on a deadline.

"And let you get murdered? Yeah, no."

"So?"

"So give me the address and I'll call the Palace for backup."

"No." She says it even before she's truly let herself analyse the suggestion, but she knows she's right in the instant she does. If he pulls the Palace into this, Harry will know—and he'll cut her out of this. This is her address, her plan. She doesn't want him to take it away from her. They contacted her, not him. She's not giving this up, and she's not letting him take over something that doesn't belong to him—not anymore. Never again.

Gray's eyes narrow. "No?"

"No. Leave Harry out of this. It's got nothing to do with him."

He tilts his head. "That's debatable."

"I don't care!" She clears her throat and tries to calm down. "We can do this on our own. We'll tell him afterwards, if you really want to. But not now." Because if he finds out, he will not let me go.

She doesn't say the last part, but the look Gray gives her makes her think he must've understood. He thinks about it for a moment. Then he says, "Okay."

Alouette lets out a surprised gasp. "Really?!"

"What, did you want me to say no?"

"No, I just..." I just didn't expect to have the second in command of the personal guard and one of the main strategists of the Palace on my side. She lets out a dumb little laugh. "You're not going to tell Harry? You promise?"

Gray groans. "I promise, okay? But you're going to listen to me, now. If you get yourself in trouble it's on me."

"But—"

"You either let me help you or I drag you back to the Palace," he interrupts her, and she raises her hands in defence. "What do you know about that address?" he asks.

"It's from Greenside."

"Can I see it?"

"No."

Gray lets out a surprised laugh. "What do you mean, no?"

She shrugs. "Call it a safety insurance. So I know you won't screw me over."

"Really so mature of you."

She gives him a little cold smile and doesn't say a word.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a sigh. "So you know absolutely nothing about this place, and you want to go there?" She nods, and he purses his lips. "This could end badly. We're gonna need more people."

She balks. "No way. The Palace can't know. They'll tell him."

Gray sighs heavily again. "What if I find someone that will keep the secret?"

"You can't."

"I'm the second in command of the personal guard. Do you really think I don't know how to keep someone quiet?"

Alouette stares into the fire at his back, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. "If you—" she starts, but he interrupts her.

"I've already told you I won't let Mr. Styles know. I don't go back on my promises." When she doesn't reply, he adds, "I'm not doing this if it's just us. It's too dangerous."

She hates relying on others. How is she supposed to know he won't stab her in the back as well? She's trusted people in the past, and it was enough to unmake her entire world. She doesn't want to give someone else that power ever again. But she doesn't have a better option—not this time. "He won't know?" she asks. She hates the way her voice trembles. She hopes Gray hasn't heard it.

"I promise. Which means we'd better do this well, so he won't kill me when he finds out."

"Okay."

Gray relaxes and throws her his keycard. "Get in the car, I'll get our reinforcements."

Alouette opens his car and sits on the driver's side. Just for a moment, she leans her head back and lets herself calm down. It'll be fine. It's hard to believe it, but she forces herself to. The truth is, whether she believes it or not changes nothing. If things have to go badly, they'll do so no matter the way she feels about the entire situation. She just has to hope that, for once, she's going in the right direction. That Gray won't betray her, that he'll prove himself worthy of her trust. She so desperately needs a friend at the Palace, nowadays. She doesn't know if she can trust Gray yet, but she'll find out soon. There's some kind of relief in that. How fucked has her life got, for her to feel relieved in this situation?

She lets out a cold laugh and opens her eyes. Gray has closed the call and is walking back towards the car, slipping his phone into his pocket. He raises an eyebrow when he sees where she's sitting, but then rounds the car and sits on the passenger's side.

"Let me guess, you don't trust me to drive either?"

"Why are you asking if you already know?"

He rolls his eyes again—it's all he seems to know how to do in her presence. She hates him for that. "Then get us to Greenside. We have an empty outpost there," he tells her, undoing his ponytail and brushing his hair back before tying it again, this time in a low bun.

Alouette starts the car and pulls out of the street, forcing herself not to look at the flaming car in front of them. "What about that?" she asks, pointing a finger in its general direction.

Gray shrugs. "I'll get the police to clean up later, or something like that."

Wow. Alouette keeps being more and more certain that she actually hates him. She wonders if that's what someone acts like when they're used to existing in the Palace. Flaming car? No problem, I'll just get some of the people on my payroll to fix it at some point, I guess. It agitates her. She hates the way it makes her feel.

At least she took care to choose a street with empty houses. As long as the fire doesn't catch, it should be fine.

They drive out of the city, and she follows his directions to Greenside. He takes her through a tortuous mix of side streets, taking care to lose any eventual tail they might have. He seemed to be concerned earlier, when she told him she'd been followed out of Dacran. It takes them a couple of hours, but eventually he seems to be certain enough they're not being followed and directs her to the other side of the city.

"Stop here," he tells her suddenly, pointing to the end of a dark, empty street. None of the buildings around them seems to be inhabited, though they're all new and well-kept.

She parks the car. "What now?" By now it's almost two in the night, and she feels like she's just wasting time. It's already been several hours since she got the message. Her heart tells her to run ahead, that she doesn't have a lot of time—but she's made her choice. She's decided to involved Gray, which means hers isn't the only voice she can listen to. She just hopes it won't come back to bite her. She's so tired of being screwed over. Not knowing whom she can trust is exhausting her. She needs someone on her side—just this once. Is that too much to ask for?

"They should be here soon."

Cold washes over her. "They?"

Gray smiles—a private smile, not directed at her. "The only two people in the Palace willing to go on an unsanctioned adventure with us."

She gives him a worried glance. "And they won't tell Harry? You're sure of that?"

"Shocking, isn't it? It looks like you have more people in your corner than you think."

"What—" she starts, but a black car enters the street and flashes its headlights at them.

"Look, our reinforcements are here," Gray says, getting out of the car.

Alouette follows him out, trembling slightly. She took too big a risk, and now she feels sick. What if he betrayed her? What if she's about to get dragged back to the Palace? Thinking about it, the whole thing is foolish. The Palace acts on Harry's orders—no one would ever dare moving without telling him. They'd risk their job—if not their lives.

She should've never told Gray. He's part of Harry's very own personal guard—how could she ever think he'd be on her side? She should run while she still can, but her feet are stuck on the ground, like her body wants to force her to see this through, to see what happens when she makes mistakes like this.

The car stops in front of them. Her heart is beating so loudly it's all she can hear. The engine is turned off. Then, two people step out and walk towards them. Alouette sees the colour of their uniforms and gasps.

They come to a stop in front of her. The one on the right gives her a half-smile.

Gray, leaning against his car next to Alouette, laughs at the look on her face and motions in their direction. "Jayden Bryce and Brooks Jackson of the personal guard at your service. Here on their own terms—not the President's. What do you say, Ivenhart? Did I or did I not prove myself useful?"

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter x
Miki