Alouette wakes up to the fresh scent of clean bedsheets and the softness of silk on her skin. For a moment, the sensations are so strong that she believes she's back to being Harry's secretary and spending the night by his side.

She blinks and sits up with a gasp. The sky is still dark outside. The shirt she's wearing slips off her shoulder as she turns to the nightstand. A glance at the alarm clock tells her it's a little past six in the morning. She finds herself staring at the digits in silence, until her brain wakes up as well and the memories from last night rush back to her.

The Palace.

Her gaze falls to the initials on the cuff of the shirt she's wearing, as if she can't trust her own memories. A passing advertisement on the opposite building paints the room pink. It really is Harry's shirt. It feels odd. She would've never thought he'd lend her part of his costume so easily, but now that she's looking at it from up close, she can see that it's just a shirt—a fancy one, undoubtedly, but still a shirt. It holds none of the intensity she's learnt to associate with Harry's character. She smiles. For some reason, she feels happy.

She gets off the bed and stretches the tense muscles of her back in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. The room is shining green, now. Alouette opens the window and steps out on the balcony. Wind blows through her hair and the shirt flies around her, and she has to keep it close to her body with her arm. She's never thought it could be so cold in Northfair—but it's the first time she's here during the cold season.

She leans her elbows on the wall and sighs, closing her eyes. Thunder rumbles in the distance; the lights of the city blink against her eyelids. The air smells like rain and pollution. For a brief moment, she wonders why Harry likes Northfair so much. It's a foolish thought, and it's over quickly. It's his home and the heart of his kingdom—of course he loves it. How couldn't he?

There's a knock on the door. When she opens it no one is on the other side, but another paper bag is on the floor at her feet.

Alouette takes it and closes the door, looking inside. She isn't surprised when she finds clothes—a black pantsuit complete with black high heels and a white dress shirt. She lets out a chuckle, unsure of whether Harry has gone off what she used to wear in the Palace, or his own wardrobe. Either way, she doesn't mind.

She leaves the bag on the bed and has a quick shower, basking in the warmth of the water she hasn't felt in nearly a month. The Revolution's systems have never been able to reach the same temperature the Palace offers at any hour of the day. The mirror is fogged up when she steps out; water drops are slowly cooling on her skin. She leaves her hair to air dry and walks back into the bedroom.

The day has started for the rest of the Palace, too. There are voices in the corridor, and the woman that occupies the room next to hers is laughing into her phone on the balcony. If things haven't changed over the past months, it's the same person Alouette snuck into the bedroom of a while ago. She still can't find it in herself to feel bad about it, though. Not many could say they've completely changed allegiance without regretting every step of the way, Alouette thinks. Has she, though? It's hard to tell. After all, her allegiance has never been to the Revolution, but to her father. Daniel Ivenhart, the man that has given flesh to what was nothing more than whispered confidences in the dark alleys of a forsaken country. It's the first time in years she feels close to her father. Maybe, after all that falling and crashing and burning, she's descended into hell at last. Why else would it all make this much sense?

Alouette takes the clothes out of the bag, and warmth rushes to her cheeks when she finds underwear inside. Just a single pair—Harry has decided to grant her the kindness to choose her own clothes to fill up the rest of her wardrobe. Still, him knowing what she'll wear underneath her clothes today gives him a little too much power, and she giggles awkwardly.

A glance at the clock tells Alouette half past seven is drawing near, so she shakes her head and puts the clothes on. She isn't surprised to find out everything fits perfectly—Harry does have her information written somewhere, after all. She should probably find it annoying, but she doesn't. There's something of endearing in the way he strives to take control of the world.

By the time the next knock comes, Alouette has paced all over the room and fixed her hair a thousand times. She doesn't feel nearly as pretty and confident as she felt an hour ago, now.

When she opens the door, she's greeted by the sight of Jayden and Jesse standing on the other side.

Jesse lets out a low whistle. "Now I see what made your puppies have the hots for you."

That's low. Alouette sends him a glare. "I thought I was too old for you?"

Jesse barks out a laugh. "Don't get ahead of yourself, I still like—"

"We have company," Alouette interrupts him icily. Jayden won't even look at her straight in the eyes. There's no way she's letting Jesse annoy the hell out of him with his antics.

"Oh, I definitely noticed," Jesse comments, looking at Jayden. "He's not very chatty, is he?"

"Leave him alone."

Jayden opens the door to a private dining room for them. "Inside," he instructs, and that's the first word Alouette hears him speak today. He looks at Jesse. "A word of advice: be quiet in front of the President, unless you want him to make you regret ever stepping foot in the Palace."

Alouette's head snaps towards him. She opens her mouth, but then decides against making her remark and walks towards the table instead. Jayden is different from what she remembers. Is it her fault, or is he simply trying to fit in the new role he was given? Being part of the President's guard must be a heavy responsibility on the shoulders of a twenty-year-old man.

She sits at the table with Jesse and has breakfast. By some miracle, Jesse manages to keep his mouth shut the whole time, and Jayden moves to stand next to the door in silence.

One hour passes. The leftovers are carried away by three waiters, and they're alone again. Jayden is still there, so neither Alouette nor Jesse say a word. Until they know exactly where they're standing, they can't allow anyone to overhear their conversations—not even the one person she thought was her only friend in the Palace. She knows she can't complain, though. She's burnt that bridge first.

Another hour passes. It's ten, now. Alouette looks at Jayden—he's still next to the door, but he's leaning back against the wall. He doesn't seem to be wondering what's going on.

"What are we waiting for?" she dares to ask out loud.

He sends her a sharp glare. "The President will come when he wishes to see you."

Alouette immediately hates the sound of that. "Has he already woken up?" Foolish question. She knows he has. If there's something she trusts Harry to do every morning without fail, it's to get up with the lark.

Jayden's glare intensifies. "I'm not required to share information regarding him with you."

Alouette turns towards the floor-to-ceiling window again. So much for making conversation.

Yet another hour passes. The storm has drawn close, now, and rain is pattering on the glass. The advertisements outside play strange games of light on the ceiling, dimmed and twisted by the water.

"Do you think E is waiting for us to call?" Jesse asks Alouette quietly. He seems to be getting a little nervous, now. Maybe he's wondering if the Palace is getting ready to get rid of them. The thought has already crossed Alouette's mind twice.

She just shakes her head. She isn't sure.

Midday comes around. Lunch comes, and yet again, they eat in silence. Another guard takes Jayden's place, and now Alouette feels even more unsafe. It isn't like Harry to act like this. Has he forgotten about them?

Does he not care about them, now that he's back home?

It's two in the afternoon, now, and they've been sitting in that room in silence for the past six hours. Alouette's head is starting to spin with fear. What's going on?

She looks for Jesse's eyes, but he's just we lost as she is, if not more. The situation doesn't look good at all.

An hour later, Jayden comes back and takes the other guard's place. She hopes he'll bring them to Harry, but he resumes his earlier position instead.

Jesse shifts his chair closer to hers. "Are we being screwed over?" he whispers in her ear, voicing the exact thing she's been fearing for the past few hours.

"I can't tell," Alouette answers honestly.

Jayden looks up at them. "No whispering."

Jesse moves his chair back, biting back a remark. Alouette is glad he's realised this isn't the right situation to joke around.

Time keeps ticking by. It's nearly five in the afternoon, now, and Alouette decides she's had enough.

She gets up and walks towards Jayden. "I need to use the restroom," she announces.

"I can't leave him alone," Jayden simply says, glancing at Jesse.

"You don't have to. I know where to go."

"I'm not allowed to let you go by yourself."

Alouette narrows her eyes. "Where would I even go? You know better than I do that the entire floor is on lockdown."

Jayden stares at her. She waits, doing her best to look like she isn't planning anything. If he doesn't let her go right now, she might go crazy. He sighs. "Be back in ten at most."

She flees the room.

It turns out she's right—the floor they're on is indeed on lockdown. But she doesn't mind, because her preexistent knowledge of the Palace tells her it's also the same floor Harry's office is on.

It only takes her a couple of minutes to remember the way and make it to her destination.

When she arrives, the door to Harry's office is slightly open—which tells her it's empty. Harry would never leave the door open like that. Alouette forces herself to ignore it. It would be too risky to skip the etiquette of the Palace and get to Harry right away, anyway—but the area isn't completely free of people.

Alouette stops in front of a desk near the office door. "Where is Harry?"

"The President asked not to be disturbed," Evie replies, without lifting her eyes from the screen of her laptop. Alouette isn't clueless enough not to hear the dismissal in her voice.

"Evie, I—"

"Spare your words," Evie interrupts her. "I'm not like Mr. Bryce. I can respect a woman that knows how to move forward in the world. But there's one thing I will not forgive you for." At last, she looks up at Alouette. The glare she sends her is so hateful that she instinctively takes a step back. "You put him in danger. You should've kept him safe, and you didn't."

Alouette's eyes widen in shock. "What?"

Evie stands up; her chair scratches loudly against the floor. "Did you really think we wouldn't notice? You've run him into the ground."

Alouette clenches her teeth. "It's not my fault if—"

"What, if he hasn't slept through a single night? Yeah, well, sure, of course it isn't your fault if he decided not to sleep." Evie is gripping the mouse of her computer so tightly Alouette fears she'll chuck it at her. "With the only exception that it isn't a choice. Did you know he can't sleep without sleeping pills? Or that some foods make him feel sick, so the chef of the Palace always has to prepare his meals separately from everyone else's? Or what about the fact that over the years he's developed a tolerance to quite a few painkillers, since he got hurt in your presence? Did you know any of that?"

Alouette can't let out a word, and Evie lets out a sour laugh.

"Of course you don't. You would if you'd bothered to ask him. But you didn't." She lets go of the mouse. "For the longest time, I thought you would take care of him. I didn't get too worried, because I thought I'd seen something in you—I thought you wouldn't let anything happen to him. But now I know I was wrong."

Sudden anger sparks inside Alouette. "I did all I could to keep him safe," she hisses, "so don't come to me saying I didn't. You don't know how hard I worked to make sure he wouldn't get killed, to make sure he would be okay—"

"But it wasn't enough, was it? I've known him since he was a teenager. Did you think I wouldn't notice he's been attacked?"

Evie's words sting. They reach that part of herself Alouette has buried so deep and burn. She's familiar with this feeling of guilt—she's been trying to fight it for the past month, to not avail. "That was not my—"

"You'd better hope it isn't your fault, because if it is..." Evie's eyes search hers through the flame of rage. "If it is, I don't care if he's protecting you or not. I will get to you. That's a promise."

Cold washes over Alouette, and she takes another step back.

"So this is where you are." Jayden enters the room and glances between them curiously, before glaring at Alouette. "You said you were going to the bathroom."

Evie sits back down at her desk. "We were just talking."

Jayden observes them, but then nods. "Well, I—" he moves to the side, letting Jesse surpass him and move to stand next to Alouette.

Evie tilts her head. "You brought the other one too?"

"Couldn't really leave him alone, could I?"

"I wouldn't have complained."

"Jesse," Alouette hisses. Please shut up, she begs him in her mind. She won't be able to save him if he gets himself thrown in jail. If the Palace has prisons, which is something she still hasn't discovered.

"We'll make do," Evie says, going back to her work.

"It isn't like we have other options..." Jayden's voice dies down in the second the entire corridor becomes awfully quiet—so quiet they could hear a pin drop.

A moment later, a low tapping reaches their ears. Steps, coming in their direction. There's no time to register what it means.

Two guards dressed in black uniforms turn into the corridor and move to stand on either side of the door. Jayden stands straighter, Evie stands up.

Harry enters the room like the devil come to exact the payment of a deal. The black suit fits his form perfectly, like it's been made just for him. It has. Alouette only gets a momentary sight of impeccably ironed clothes and hair so perfect he could be a doll just taken out of the box before one of the guards opens the door to his office and he steps inside.

She gasps. She hasn't noticed she stopped breathing in the instant he arrived.

Next to her, Jesse seems to be just as surprised. "Holy shit," he mutters under his breath, "I think I suddenly understand you."

Evie sends him a quick look and then disappears into Harry's office.

Twenty long minutes pass.

When she comes out, she seems exhausted. "The President doesn't wish to discuss your deal of sorts today," she announces. "You're dismissed."

Alouette taps Jesse's hand before he can let out a swear word.

Jayden moves from his position. "I'll bring you back to your rooms." He and Jesse step out, and Alouette makes to follow them, but she's suddenly stopped.

"Not you, Ms. Ivenhart," Evie says, loudly enough for her to hear. "The President wishes to speak to you in his office."

Alouette's heart hammers in her chest. She slowly turns around and walks to the door. One of the guards—Jackson—opens it for her, and she steps inside. She jumps when it closes behind her.

She immediately sees Harry standing at the other end of the room, in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. His back draped in an elegant black suit is a familiar, albeit uncanny, sight. It feels odd to be so close to him after the past few hours.

He doesn't turn to look at her—doesn't need to. By now, she's half-certain he could recognise her by breath pattern alone.

"Hey," she greets him. The word comes out unexpectedly tense, a reflection of the tension in her muscles. For some reason, this feels dangerous.

Harry turns his head and regards her with a long look. "You're on edge," he states. It isn't a question.

Her lips part, but the lie dies out before it can leave her mouth. "Are you really wondering why?" she asks instead.

His mouth curves into a smile, and he stalks towards her. It's been months since she's last seen him in a suit, and the sight makes a thousand alarm bells go off in her mind. Do you trust me, with my title, with my role, with hundreds of thousands of people at my disposal?, he asked her once. Back then, her answer was automatic. Now, though, she's reminded of who he truly is—what he is. Maybe she shouldn't have been so careless. Danger trickles down her spine.

Harry is standing right in front of her, now. His thumb brushes over her lower lip, and her heart jumps in her throat. "You're wondering if I've betrayed you," he whispers, his voice as soft as a caress. "You're wondering whether I will betray you. Deep down, you're fearing you may have made a mistake in trusting me."

Alouette isn't taken aback by his words. He's developed a talent for reading the truth in her eyes—a talent that makes her feel naked and vulnerable in front of him. "Are you surprised?" she asks.

He considers the question for a long moment. "No," he replies in the end, "I'm not. I was expecting it." His fingers hook on the chain around her neck—his necklace. He pulls her towards him. "That's why I asked you to trust me."

Alouette's heartbeat flutters at their sudden closeness. His scent is exactly as she remembers it—heady, woody, slightly sweet, like a whiff of a distant flower garden carried in the wind. If he doesn't let go of her right now she'll fall to her knees for him. "Those are just words," she breathes. She has a hard time thinking when he's just so close to her, and the effect is made stronger by all the hours they've spent apart.

Harry's fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of her neck, and he tugs on it gently to make her look into his eyes. "Everything's just words, if you think about it." He traces her throat with a finger. "Did you like my present, by the way? I considered adding a pair of boxers, but it would've been improper of me, considering you can have your pick of everything I'm wearing whenever you wish."

Alouette blinks quickly. So this is the game he's going to play now, after disappearing without a warning and ignoring her for the whole day, making her think he was going to betray her. He's going to act like she's been on his mind for the whole day—like he wants nothing more than to have her. Like there was nothing wrong with the way he made her wait, without letting her know what was going on. Annoyance washes through her. She instantly decides she's had enough. He doesn't get to act like this after everything he did. She won't let him.

She pushes him backwards and he hits his desk. She grabs his tie and pulls him face to face with her. "Shut the hell up," she whispers, a second before crashing her lips against his.

He responds to her immediately. A hum escapes his mouth and Alouette has the sudden, overwhelming realisation that this is exactly the reaction he anticipated from her. He wanted this. She suddenly feels played, because it's just like him to make her come onto him on their first day at the Palace, against reason and her worries. But then, she realises she's been granted power.

This means he's thought about her. He's thought about her kissing him like this. He's looked forward to it. And that means she has him.

She breaks away from the kiss. "You disappeared yesterday," she states.

His eyes land on hers, heated, intense. Separation makes him eager. The realisation excites her more than it should. "Is that a question?"

She traces his jaw with a finger. Having the upper hand can easily get addictive—especially around Harry. "Why don't you answer anyway?" There's a sweet edge in her voice, one that makes Harry's breath falter. She knows he's just realised that, against all his plans, she's taken control of the conversation. It's nearly as heady as his scent.

"There were things to sort out."

Such as? The question doesn't make it to her mouth. There are rules when it comes to Harry—if she wants to maintain her hold on him, she can't ask anything that will make him pull back. Because, as always, he's eager to play her game only as long as it doesn't cross his. "You gave them my name," she says instead. She loosens the knot of his tie and undoes the first button of his dress shirt. The collar is similar to the one of the one he sent her last night.

"It's illegal not to have official documents, don't you know?" The flow of his voice comes out steady, but it falters when Alouette's fingers touch the spot where his collarbones meet.

"Since when do you care about the law?"

"Since, ah—" Alouette steps between his legs and kisses his collarbone. She can't tell exactly why she does that. Maybe she wants to show him that she's as good as this game as he is. Maybe she wants him to think twice the next time he decides to toy with her emotions. Harry's chest rises and falls quickly. The broken up sentence gets to her head, because this is Harry. Leaving him speechless is a remarkably hard task. "I'd missed you," he says instead as she leaves another kiss on his throat, "but I'm starting to realise you may have missed me too."

Another brush of her lips on his neck. "Did you really?" she asks him. That's the thing with Harry—she can never tell how truthful he's being. She can never ignore that faint edge in his voice, the edge that betrays the existence of a working mind behind his prettily spoken words. Harry rarely lets go—more than an unintentional confession, it feels like he meant to share this piece of information. Whether there's a reason behind it or not, she isn't sure.

He pulls back, his back arches inward over his desk as he lifts her chin with a finger. "Did I?" he whispers. Alouette's mind might be broken, because she finds it dangerously attractive.

"If you've missed me so much, why did you request to be left alone?" The question is out of her mouth before she can stop it.

He halts. "I needed time," he replies after a moment, "to think. Did it scare you?"

Alouette shrugs, even though his answer sweeps away the last of her doubts. "I thought you'd go back on your word. That would've been unacceptable—I would've had to stop you. You know, tie you to your bed and all, like we planned." She kisses his jaw and his mouth, and this, this feels unexpectedly sinful.

There's a knock at the door. "Sir?" a voice on the other side of it says. Evie. "Is everything alright?" There's no denying she heard the scrape of the desk against the floor when Harry was pushed against it.

Alouette's cheeks grow warm and she straightens immediately, taking a step back. For a moment, she forgot where they are. This is the Palace. She can't do whatever she wants anymore. She's suddenly all too aware of her closeness to Harry, of his messed up suit, of the three people on the other side of the door.

Harry's eyes don't leave hers, not even for a moment, not even by mistake. "Leave." The order is so threatening that for a moment no one in the room and outside of it reacts.

Then, steps go down the corridor as Evie leaves. A thrill runs up Alouette's spine.

Harry pulls her closer by his necklace and stared her down. "Aren't you taking liberties, now?" he murmurs, going back to their conversation.

Alouette's gaze travels from his eyes to his mouth, and then back to his eyes. "Do you mind?"

"I don't." Harry's lips are already parted when he pulls her into a kiss so heated that it spreads warmth all over her body. It's especially comforting after the events of the past twenty-four hours. "Feels like old times." A kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Better, even." Another on the spot where her jaw meets her neck. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this. To have you in my Palace like this. You're mine, now, and I'm not going to let you go."

She lets out a faint laugh. If she'd known a day apart was all she needed to have him react like this to her presence, she would've let him have a free day a long time ago. She understands it, though. She too feels like she's losing her mind right now. Being like this with him in his office feels like a stolen gift—something that shouldn't be happening, but somehow is. She's spent so long anticipating this moment that she can't believe it's really happening. "It can't have been that long."

"You'd be surprised." With a glance to the screen of his computer, he buttons up his shirt again and fixes his tie. "After all the time it took me to get ready earlier," he mutters.

Alouette runs her thumb over his lower lip, just to discover that its redness comes from having been kissed, and not makeup. "No lipstick?" she asks quietly. She says it conversationally, but not even an even tone can hide the curiosity in her voice.

"I'm not shooting today."

"Why not?"

Harry pushes off his desk and moves it back into position with a hand. "We must minimise damage. No one must know I've been missing for two months."

Alouette frowns. "Wasn't it obvious?"

"It won't be, if I play my cards right." He shoots her a quick smile. "You may have forgotten, but I'm quite resourceful."

"I have not forgotten, and that's what scares me."

"My resourcefulness?"

"Your ability to screw people over."

Harry chuckles. "You sound judgemental, my Lark. What if I were to tell you you still haven't seen me make an effort?"

Alouette studies him as he rounds his desk. "I've seen you screw a lot of people over, Harry."

"That was child's play. But I'm tired of wasting time, now." He puts his hand on the desk and types something on the keyboard. "From now on, I'll exclusively play to win."

She smiles, tilting her head and observing him. Now that he's back in the Palace, he seems to be reborn. There's a glint in his eyes that has been missing for weeks, a glint that tells her he's missed this. The games, the trickery, the hiding in rooms kissing. This is the place he was made for. And yet, she still has no clue of the way his mind truly works—how far his understanding of human behaviour goes, how capable he is of predicting patterns. She finds it exciting. "What will your first move be, then?"

Harry glances up at her. A devious little smile is curving his lips, so faint that she wonders if it isn't a trick of the light instead. "My first move?" He spends a long moment turning the question over in his mind, but in the end, he speaks. "Shutting off all the screens in Northfair."

Alouette halts.

Harry presses a key, and there's a click. A moment later, the world sinks in darkness.

Alouette's mouth falls open as the advertisements on the other side of the window pane simultaneously turn black. The brightest star in the country is instantly obscured, like the sun is by the moon during an eclipse. The lights above their heads turn on to paint Harry's office white, now.

She's never seen something like this before. "Harry...?" she stutters out in surprise, instant fear washing over her. Throughout her whole life, she has never thought she'd witness a sleeping Northfair. She's spent so long hating those lights, but now that they're gone, she's terrified. This goes against every foundation their country was built on.

Harry observes her reaction curiously, the same gaze he'd reserve to an oddly painted portrait in a waiting room. When he speaks, it's in that calm, even tone of his, the one that doesn't betray any emotion. "With time you'll discover, my Lark, that people are nothing if not predictable."

Thank you so much for the 495k reads on this story! I'm also sorry for the delay in updates. I've been really busy lately and haven't had time to write. I'm back now, though.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter x
Miki