Interlude [h.s]

sixty-seven

THE PALACE

There are three things Evie has never thought she'd witness. The first, is seeing the Palace without its President. The second is having to manage all of his files. The third, is having been granted access to his office by his personal guard.

She types in the last code and the door opens with a click. The lights turn on in the second she steps inside, and she sneezes. It's only been a couple of weeks since Jackson last walked in here, but the place is in desperate need of some cleaning.

She closes the door behind herself, rounds the President's desk and gets to work, opening the first drawer.

The phone on the desk rings. She sends it a glance and shrugs, opening the next drawer and rifling through the papers. There has to be something—anything—more. This can't be all there is—it's madness.

She's never been particularly close to the President. It isn't that she hasn't tried—quite the opposite. When Harry first took the title, she tried her very best to erase that distance between them—to uncover his thoughts like she never managed to do with his father. And though she learnt how he takes his coffee and the time he wakes up at in the morning, she's never truly got to know him. It might be her biggest fault yet, because his cleverness has always been disarming and she's wished so many times, desperately, that she could be made part of his plans. But that was never an option, not for her at least, because he's as distrustful as he is smart, and he loves to play with foes and friends alike.

He reminds her of a child, at times, going one step forward each day just because he can, toying with people like she used to play with her dolls. Still, though, she thinks of him fondly, because she's certain he isn't moved by the same murky darkness his father was. No, there's a playful nature hidden deep within him, a wonder with the world she can only see reflected in his eyes when he looks at Northfair. For as long as he doesn't lose that spark, there will be hope. For him, for the Palace, for the country. And her job is to make sure he never does.

But it still doesn't solve the matter at hand—just where has he put the authorisations he signed the day he was taken?

The phone rings again, and Evie ignores it a second time. This time, she's annoyed. Why are they calling continuously—everyone that has that number is supposed to know the President is not in his office.

She opens the last drawer and lets out a relieved sigh when she finds what she was looking for. She puts the three papers on the desk side by side, studying the titles printed on them.

CAMERA INSTALLATION AUTHORISATION — OLD COUNTRY

LOWERING OF ELECTRICITY COSTS — DACRAN & SOUTH-EAST

RAILWAY REBUILDING AUTHORISATION — SOUTH-EAST

She scrunches up her nose at the last one. They wouldn't have to rebuild the railways if the Revolution hadn't destroyed them. That organisation is going to become the end of them all—whenever the Palace takes a step forward, they force them to take three backward. Their falseness is enough to make her livid, knowing the reason behind it makes her wish they'd found a way to take them down by now.

And they infiltrated the Palace, and now they have their President, and she has no idea of what will happen next. All she knows is that they must still be on the move, because if Ezra had got his grabby fingers on Harry, the entire country would've known it by now. No, there's still time to make this right. The Palace will find a way. They always have, and they always will.

And in the meantime, she has to make sure their secrets will stay secret. With Harry gone, she and Jackson are the highest-ranking powers within the Palace walls, the only ones that get to know everything that's happening, the only ones that can make decisions. And while Jackson and his team are busy with retrieving Harry and population control, she has to make sure work in the Palace continues as usual, or else they will know. She cannot allow that to happen. Ever.