Insurgence [h.s]

seven

It's eleven in the evening, and Alouette and Brooks are standing in a doorframe of the upper floors.

Jackson is sitting behind a glass desk; the badge on his dark grey suit shines in the white light above their heads. He raises an eyebrow. "This I didn't expect." He was about to leave when they stormed into his office a few minutes ago. Now he's thrown back on his chair, like seeing them at that time of the day was a critical hit to his sanity. His deep blue gaze moves from her to Brooks, and his eyes narrow.

Brooks shrugs. "She wants to speak to you." He glances between them and makes a face. "I'll be outside."

Alouette doesn't even have the time to nod before he flees the room, slamming the door at her back. She flinches—she can't help it. Jackson has always had a way of intimidating her—he's never made a secret of his distaste for her. Now, it leaves her to wonder if he too knew more than he let on since the start.

Jackson stares after him until he can no longer hear his steps in the corridor. Then, his gaze moves back to her. The blue of his eyes is uncanny and cold—always has been. "Why are you here, Ms. Ivenhart?" Her last name sounds like a threat, and she takes a step back. He rolls his eyes and stands. He moves the chair under the desk, but he doesn't approach her. "So?"

Alouette realises only now how much she's relied on Harry to shield her from everyone else during her long months at the Palace, because even though she's known him for months, she's never truly interacted with him. Seeing him play with her sister or cower under Harry's gaze isn't helping much, either. Those were just fleeting moments—but she knows there's more to him. Back when she first arrived months ago, Evie told her Jackson has been the head of Harry's personal guard since it was first instituted, soon after Harry took the role. It's an ambitious role for a man that is now in his mid thirties. He must've been so young, back then, and she's no longer looking at the affairs of the Palace through the filtered, sweetened version of her feelings for Harry. She knows exactly the kind of person Harry is, and if he offered Jackson the role so quickly, then there are no doubts over the kind of person Jackson is, too. That makes her next request so much harder—but, to save her sister, she'd even make a deal with the devil. And, after all, Jackson can't be worse than Harry.

"I need your help."

His dark eyebrows shoot up, but he recovers quickly. "What for, Ms. Ivenhart?"

"I don't want to talk to Harry. So I'll talk to you."

Jackson evaluates her for a long moment. Then, he walks to the door and checks outside before closing it again. He sits back at his desk and crosses his arms. The golden badge pinned on his suit shines again. "Let's talk, then."

"I talked to Elodie."

Jackson gives her an empty stare, and Alouette sighs.

"She's the one my sister was with when she was taken." It's hard to keep her nerve while talking to him. She has the feeling he doesn't care about Amina's whereabouts all that much, and it angers her more than she'd like to admit. But she knows how deals work, and she knows she has some information that might prove useful to him, too. "Ezra took her to get back at me."

That sparks Jackson's interest. "Why?"

"That night, before... before everything, Ezra spoke with me. That's why Harry went back to our room alone."

"What did he want?"

Alouette looks down at the clear glass of Jackson's desk. There's a folder on it—a report on what happened at the Revolution, she realises after glancing at the title. It makes the next few words a little easier to speak out. "He wanted me to kill Harry."