Interlude [h.s]

twenty

The next day Alouette decides to give Harry some space, and ends up walking into his office in the early afternoon.

"Hello, Lark," he greets her before she can even say a word, still facing the window, not even bothering to turn around. Did he recognise her simply by the sound of her steps?

She forces herself not to be freaked out and steps closer to the desk. "I heard you're throwing a party."

Harry finally turns around partially, glancing at her from over his shoulder. "Me? No." He chuckles. "I know better than to sing victory before it is time. But yes, there will be a celebration. The morale in the palace is low."

"A lot of people seem to be really excited about it."

"It's a foolish man's pleasure to let his guard down before he should," he replies, "don't let the pretty talk trick you, the Revolution is far from obliterated and its counterattack is impending."

"That's terrifying," Alouette replies, sounding scared even though she isn't. At least Harry knows he hasn't already won.

He hums, walking towards the desk and putting the empty crystal glass he's holding down on it. "Fear is your biggest enemy. Once you fear something, it has already won." The residual line of the drink at the bottom of the glass changes at the soft hit. "I have a job for you."

"Oh, you do?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

Harry rounds the desk, and an instant after is right next to her, his fresh scent filling the air around her. "Since we've stopped fighting, now," he murmurs, tugging at her hair gently and making her look at him. "Have we, Lark?"

"Of course." She has to fight the sudden urge to either take a step back or close the distance between them, their closeness playing odd tricks on her mind.

"Good," he breathes. "Prove to me I can still trust you."

"What do you want me to do?"

He lets go of her. "There's a place in the city. An apartment," he tells her, his voice sounding clearer. "I need something from it."

"What do you need?"

"That's nothing you should worry about, actually," he replies. "I need you to take a guard and get it for me."

"You want me to break into someone else's home? That's illegal."

"I'm the president, Lark. I decide what's illegal and what isn't. Besides, I own that apartment, so I'm giving you permission to go inside. In fact, I'm also going to give you its key."

"Then why can't you get it yourself?" She clears her throat when she notices the slight resentment in her voice.

"I sensed that question coming," Harry states, seeming to take some kind of pleasure from his ability to predict her actions. "I suspect someone has leaked the information concerning it, and that it fell in very bad hands." He sends her a quick look. "I'm sure you can figure out yourself why it'd be dangerous for me to go there."

"Then why do you want me to?"

"Why not?" He replies, but lets out a sigh when he realises she'll need him to be more specific before accepting. "They don't know you. If any of my trusted guards go there, they'll know they're with me."

She tilts her head. "How would they?" It's scary to know the extent to which he's aware of the way his enemies act. It makes him a hard target.

"A lot of people like to keep tabs on me, and I'm rather sure they know every detail about every single person I'm usually seen out in the city with," he explains quickly, "they, however, don't know much about what happens in the palace, which means they don't know you."