Interlude [h.s]

forty-nine

Alouette stops the car on the side of an empty street a couple of hours after sunset. There's nothing but them and their car surrounded by miles and miles of dead crops, the road stretching out in the night like a silvery snake.

For the past few hours she's focused on putting as much distance as possible between them and Whitsen, driving with no real destination, and now even she wouldn't be able to tell where they are. All she knows is that it isn't one of the main roads, which means it's the perfect place to allow them to rest a little bit. Not many people drive between cities—especially not at night—which means they won't come across anyone. For the first time in well over twenty-four hours, they're away from cameras and civilisation. They're in the middle of nowhere, and so they're safer than they've ever been.

"Let's stop for a few hours," she mumbles, hiding the card in the pocket of her clothes farthest away from Harry. She's only slept a couple of hours in the past two days, and her tiredness is starting to get to her. She can't sleep, but she needs to rest at least a little bit.

"Here?" Alouette can hear the judgemental edge in Harry's voice.

"You're welcome to lie down in the middle of the street if you'd prefer," she bites back, bringing her knees to her chest and hiding her face in the cocoon of her arms to let Harry know she has no intention of spending the night talking to him.

He doesn't speak again, and Alouette slowly gives in to the silence. There are so many decisions to make, so many new steps to take, but she can't think about it now. She'll worry about it all later, because she's finally able to relax without needing to worry about Harry finding a way to contact the police or his Palace.

It's a moonless night, but she finds solace in the darkness for once. She starts going over all the events of the past two days, processing them all and storing them on the side for later, trying to figure out what the Revolution thinks of her now. Do they believe her a traitor, or does she still have room to come to an agreement with them?

She'll have to figure out a way to get in contact with them safely tomorrow—a way that won't involve Harry getting shot on sight. She has to get in contact with Ezra directly—she can't afford to trust anyone else.

The silence is deep inside the car, but she doesn't look up. The quietude settles into her bones, heaves down on her limbs, and soon her breath evens out and her eyes close.

• • •

Alouette wakes with a start to the sharp white light of day.

She jumps up on her seat and automatically checks the one next to hers, her heart dropping when she realises Harry isn't in the car.

She bites back some curses and automatically reaches for her gun. It's still there, thankfully, and so is the card of the car. She should've locked the doors, she shouldn't have fallen asleep, she scolds herself mentally.

After a quick glance around, though, she spots Harry's figure leaning against the hood of the vehicle.

He's bathing in the silvery sunlight, his eyelashes long and dark against his pale cheekbones. He isn't even facing her, but he still looks like an angel with his dark, mussed hair and white sweater. If in the Palace he'd looked like he'd fallen from grace, now it looks like he's never known anything aside from it. Nobody manages to look ethereal like he does.

Alouette gets out of the car and moves to stand in front of him, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are you doing out here?"

Harry shrugs, fixing his grey-green gaze on her. "I was considering escaping, but I decided against it."