Alouette drives as fast as she can, eager to put as much distance as possible between them and the mysterious men they crossed on the street. At some point in the evening, her eagerness to get to Pans fuels her speed, so they manage to get to a city thirty minutes before midnight. It isn't her intended destination, but it's a clear warning that it's nearby, and Alouette decides to stop there for the night, since the roads will only get unsafer the closer they get to the old country.

She parks in front of a large supermarket and sends Harry a look. "Stay here, I'll be back soon," she says, and then she steps out of the car. She knows not even he would be reckless enough go run away in that moment, but she takes the keycard and locks the doors anyway, knowing it'll be enough to keep him from making foolish choices.

If it was anyone else, she wouldn't dare to leave them alone in the car, knowing they'd break out or find a way to drive it away. But Harry isn't made to survive on the streets. His knowledge comes from an outstanding education and a thousand books, his intelligence makes him well-versed in leading, plan-making and palace intrigues. In this setting, he doesn't stand a chance—and hopefully he knows that too.

Inside, she buys a couple of large water bottles and a dark green coat big enough to fit Harry. Autumn is approaching quickly, and it won't be long until his sweater won't be enough to keep him from freezing down to his bones. She, on the other hand, is wearing a winter suit, so her jacket will keep her warm for at least a couple more weeks. Besides, she doesn't know what the Palace is looking for in their desperate search for their President, and doesn't want to risk alerting it by buying clothes of both their sizes at the same time.

Nobody reacts to her face, not inside the supermarket, not down on the street, which means that the Palace isn't looking for her just yet. That gives them more time to disappear.

When she comes back inside the car, Harry is where she left him. He's playing with her knife, spinning its handle around his fingers without hurting himself, and Alouette thinks it's unfair that someone like him is able to wield weapons with such talent. She's only skilled when it comes to shooting—without a firearm, she'd be lost. But he seems to always find a way to utilise the world around him to protect and defend himself—and to attack, at times. If it wasn't her knife, he'd be crashing cars or threatening her with glass shards.

She still checks to make sure he hasn't cut anything though, because she trusts his understanding of his situation and not him.

"We'll stop here for the night," she announces, throwing the coat she bought on his lap.

Harry gives her a puzzled look and doesn't react.

"You're only useful to me alive, if you freeze to death all of this will be pointless," she explains, and again she's only met by silence.

Alouette looks at the names of the streets they drive past, recalling all the times she played in her father's studio, all the conversations she listened to and all the paper sheets she read. The Revolution has safe houses in every city of the old country—they aren't in the old country yet, but if she remembers correctly, there should be an abandoned safe house here too.

It doesn't take her long to find it. She parks some streets away from it, not wanting to risk giving away their hiding place if someone finds the stolen vehicle.

Alouette gets out and walks to the opposite side of the road just as Harry steps out as well, wearing the coat she got for him. She tilts her head and watches as he crosses the street as well, a winged ghost in the night as wind blows through them.

Normality doesn't suit him. His innocuous-looking attire does nothing to hide the feral yet cunning gaze in his eyes. A wolf in sheep's clothing, a wild animal waiting for the perfect time to strike. He looks at the world as he would at a chessboard, calculating the trajectory of each piece and arranging for the other king's fall. Sometimes Alouette feels like the other player, others she wonders if she isn't in his team instead. Is she his knight, or is she nothing more than a pawn? Is she his queen?

The thought makes something inside her flip, whether it's her heart or her stomach, she doesn't know. Back at the Palace, she let herself wonder what it'd be like to be his one too many times. Now she knows those were only foolish musings, but they come back to her as Harry's words settle in her chest. She promised herself she wouldn't believe a single word that leaves his mouth, but she can't stop thinking about them all the same.

At least he doesn't know, she tells herself. She doesn't doubt there would be an irritatingly ironic smile plastered on his face if he did.

"Isn't the car to your liking anymore?" Harry asks, but the teasing edge that has characterised his voice until now is nowhere to be found. She wonders if it's because of the late hour, or because there's something in his mind.

"We're sleeping somewhere else," Alouette replies, and she leaves it at that. The more information she gives him, the more likely he'll be to come up with a plan. She doesn't give him that opportunity.

They walk hidden in the shadows of the night. It's an old, run-down city, so only the centre is enlightened by the usual multitude of banners. The outskirts are enveloped in darkness and so they are, but Alouette walks fast anyway, a little uneasy. Harry moves a few feet away from her. She could grab his wrist and bring him back to her side, but she doesn't.

She's so focused on the man walking next to her that she doesn't even realise someone is following them until she's slammed to the ground.

Her gun flies down the sidewalk, out of her reach. She lets out a panicked scream and moves away seconds before a fist crashes into the asphalt, less than an inch away from her head. She tries to crawl away but her attacker grabs her leg and pulls her towards him again. Her head hits the ground and her vision goes dark for a few instants.

When she blinks the shadows away, she finds herself staring at the barrel of a gun. The man is keeping her pinned to the ground, his fingers wrapped tightly around her throat to keep her from letting out a sound.

Suddenly the gun is kicked out of his grasp. The man turns towards Harry and seethes at the sight, pulling another firearm out of his jacket. He charges at him and they fall to the ground. There's a gunshot and a blade glints in the night.

Harry kicks him away from him and stands up. A crimson puddle quickly forms under the man's body, staining the grey asphalt. He cleans the knife on the man's trousers and walks towards her, putting it back in his coat.

Alouette is heaving, her palms on the ground, trying to make sense of what has just happened, but her head is heavy, her thoughts muddled by fear. Nobody has ever come at her like that before.

Harry crouches in front of her and raises her chin with a finger. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice unexpectedly gentle. There's a dark mark on his cheekbone, and he cleans the blood away when he notices her gaze on it.

"You... you killed him?" She doesn't even try to hide the shock in her voice.

"I'm sorry for the mess," he whispers. He stands up and offers her his hand, but she doesn't move. All she can see is the dead body a few feet away from them. The realisation of what happened strikes her.

"You killed him," Alouette repeats, and this time it isn't a question anymore. "You killed him, you killed a man—"

"He would've killed you," Harry replies, tilting his head as if he sees nothing wrong with his actions.

Alouette gets up and steps away from him. "That's not the point! You killed—" She shakes her head in shock. "You can't know that! You shouldn't have killed him, that's wrong. That's bad. You can't do that, you're supposed to uphold the law, not—"

Harry laughs. "There isn't such a thing as good and bad, there's only those who are with me and those who are against me. I am the law this world abides by. You'd better remember that, my Lark."

"People's lives aren't a joke!" she snaps. "Do you feel no remorse at all? You can't just... I should've kil—"

His gaze darkens and his smile turns to a colder shade. "You won't kill me. Do you know how I know that?" He takes a step towards her. "I killed the leader of your Revolution. Do you want to know how I did it?" He pauses for a moment, as if he genuinely expects her to reply. "I poisoned his food and his wine. He drank and drank, and I kept pouring it for him. And then he asked for water, and I poured it in his glass personally. Guess why?" He tastes his next words before letting them out. "The water was poisoned, too."

Alouette gasps, and Harry gives her a cruel little smile.

"Then I locked the doors and left him to die. The police covered it up nicely, didn't they?" He glances at the man on the ground. "But you've known that all along, haven't you? You knew and you had a gun to my head and a knife to my throat, but still, you couldn't bring yourself to kill me. You're nothing but empty threats, Lark."

Alouette clenches her fists, but she knows there's nothing for her to say. She hates it, but Harry's right. She's always known who he truly is, but she still can't bring herself to harm him. She tells herself her unwillingness to kill him is what makes her better than him, but now she wonders if it doesn't just make her a coward instead.

Harry walks to the body and checks inside the man's pockets. She forces herself to do the same, and her breath hitches when her fingers land on a folded piece of paper with a picture of her. Harry snatches it from her hands in the second he sees her still.

"This is messy," he comments, "most definitely doesn't come from the Palace. Is it yours?"

Alouette shakes her head. "It isn't the work of the Revolution either." The eyes of the picture are burning into hers from the paper.

Someone put out a hit on her—and only her. Hers is the only picture the man was carrying—he didn't care about Harry, because he wasn't his target.

Harry was right, that man would've killed her if he hadn't stepped in.

Harry gives her the paper sheet back and she stands up, glancing around to make sure they're the only ones standing on the street. She crumples up the piece of paper, clenching her teeth.

Who could want her dead?

"Let's go," she mutters, throwing the paper on the ground and walking away fast. They aren't safe here.

Ten minutes later, they reach the safe house.

It's an abandoned building in the outskirts of the town, easily accessible and perfect to hide in. The windows are broken but barred, but there's no code on the door.

Alouette picks the lock quickly and they slide into the building, walking up the stairs until they find a door with a black sign—the only one with no code. She unlocks it fast and glances around the room. The glass of the windows is broken and cold is coming inside, but they're completely alone.

It's perfect.

She slides down the wall and settles in a corner. Her head hurts and a milky film is draped over her thoughts because of the hit, but she's alive—and it's all thanks to Harry. Fear had completely paralysed her, she wouldn't still be breathing if he hadn't stepped in.

But she can't deal with all this, not now. She curls up against the wall, the freezing cold of the night comes in through the window.

Harry settles on the other side of the room, and for once he doesn't seem eager to tease her either.

Despite her best efforts to stay awake, her eyes slowly close and her thoughts fade into white, the sound of her chattering teeth lulling her to sleep.

Some minutes after a warm coat is draped over her body, and the last of her consciousness drifts away.

Interlude hit 205k, thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter x
Miki