Insurgence [h.s]

fourteen

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.