Interlude [h.s]

eighty-four

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.