Hey, hey! I finally got the chance to post this story (it was about time!) :D It's been hanging around in my folder for months, but it still needed to be proof-read. Sorry for the delay!

Anyway: this story will be split into three parts- I'll post the other two ASAP- and it will mention some of the characters from Water and Gold, since all my stories take place in the same, say... 'universe'.

Enjoy!

"Yes, yes," said the Beast, "my heart is good, but still I am a monster."

"Among mankind," says Beauty, "there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart."

- Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont, Beauty and the Beast

I stand on my tiptoes as far as my high heels allow me, peeking over the thousands of heads that fill the square behind me; this year I managed to get a place on the front row, along with about twenty other 18-year-old girls, right in front of the stage. The usual glass balls have already been placed, and the mayor is giving his speech, but I'm not paying attention- I'm running my eyes through the 14-year-old boys' lineup, looking for someone in specific. I find him right away: the tips of his golden curls, so similar to mine, tower over most of the kids surrounding him, as he cheerfully chats with one of his friends- and I think I know just what he's talking about. He finally notices I'm staring at him, and amusingly sticks out his tongue.

I silently scold him with my gaze. Don't you even think about it, my eyes say.

Gloss just smirks and mimics a chicken, and I have to restrain myself from walking up to him and smacking him in the head, in order to shake some sense into it. He says that he's going to volunteer today, as if a fourteen-year-old has got a chance! Of course, what happened last year was an exception. Anyway, I know Gloss only says that to annoy me, because he thinks I will chicken out the moment Marcus Whitman, our escort, asks if there are any volunteers. You're too much of a nerd, Cammie, he teased when I told him I wanted to volunteer this year- right before I kicked him off the couch. After that, he decided the safest way to bother me was to say he wanted to do the same.

My eyes drift away from my brother, and I realize that at least a dozen boys on the front rows are staring eagerly at me, while a couple of girls on my left eye me with envy. Just to annoy them, I flip my blonde hair over my shoulder and turn my attention back to Marcus, trying not to frown; I just wish people would stop staring.

"Ladies first!" Marcus announces as always, as he dives his hand into one of the balls and seizes a slip of paper. "Emerald Sparks!"

A dark-haired girl in an emerald green dress- how original- steps to the stage and joins Marcus, staring boringly at the audience with her dull brown eyes; I'd say she's not very thrilled with being reaped. "Now," says Marcus, smiling at the left side of the square, where the girls are standing. "Would any of the young ladies here like to volunteer?"

This is the moment to show I'm brave. Just like in the books.

"I do!" I practically shriek, and I have to control myself not to jump up and down. "I volunteer!"

I run to the stage, trying not to stumble on my stilettos, and stop next to a very surprised Emerald; she eyes me up and down, and somewhere in the crowd someone whistles. Suddenly, I wish I had picked a longer dress- and less tight, too, as Marcus gapes at me, seemingly forgetting what he's supposed to do.

Emerald is the first to recompose herself, turning to Marcus and clearing her throat. "Great, may I go now?"

"O-Of course," Marcus stammers. "Are there any more volunteers?"

Silence- I can see all the eyes in the square set on me, and I know that Gloss is probably either grumbling to himself that he lost his chance to be one of the youngest victors in history, or too stunned to do anything.

"Well then." Marcus picks up a microphone and shoves it right under my nose. "What's your name, dear?"

I gaze into his purple eyes with my blue ones, and give him my most dashing smile. "Cashmere," I say cheerfully. "Cashmere Mabel."

I'm so caught up on my reading that I don't notice them right away- I'm sitting against a tree, seizing a wonderful sunny day and the cool shadow the trees on our new garden offer me. I have to admit that moving to Victor Village was an improvement: at least here there are less people, and no one gives me strange looks for taking my books outside and lying on the grass with no shoes on.

Suddenly, however, I'm distracted by the sound of male voices talking- I look from behind the trunk, so I can see them without being seen, just as they reach the front door. There are two men- one is a Peacekeeper, while the other, in a shiny red suit, is undoubtedly from the Capitol; they get out of sight, and I presume someone has just let them in.

"Cashmere!" my mother hisses from the kitchen window. "Someone's here to see you!"

"Coming!" I hiss back, as I get up, still holding my book, and quietly walk to the back door; my bare feet almost don't make any noise against the grass. "Who is it?" I whisper, as soon as I step into the kitchen. "What do they want?"

"I don't know." My mother looks concerned, as she gently removes grass leaves from my hair and my dress. "Your father is talking to them, but they say they will only discuss whatever brought them here with you."

"I better not keep them waiting, then." I take a step toward the door that leads to the hall, but my mother stops me.

"Glasses!" she scolds. I smile at her and take off my gold-rimmed round glasses, tucking them in my back pocket; my mother is always warning me about them, and how they "hide my pretty face". She used to work as a model- something rare, even for someone from District 1- and is now retired and works as a jewelry designer, but she's still very picky about my appearance. And, even though she will never admit it, she's much more beautiful than I am.

"Good afternoon," I say politely as I step into the living room, making myself noticed. My father gets up from the couch and leaves without a word, his eyes filled with annoyance.

The man in the red suit bows slightly. "Good afternoon, Miss Mabel."

I smile at him. "May I ask who you are?"

"My name is Magnus Highmore," he says proudly, as if I should recognize that name. "I work for President Snow."

"And what brings you here?" I'm not able to hide the curiosity in my voice. "The Victory Tour is still five months away."

Magnus smiles condescendingly. "This is not about the Victory Tour. President Snow has requested your presence."

I blink. "When?"

"Immediately."

"But… I can't just leave to the Capitol now," I stammer. "I mean… I haven't packed my stuff!"

"We will make sure you are provided with anything you need." Magnus's tone is sympathetic, but allows no contestation. "Now, if you would please follow us…"

"How long will I be there?" I ask, realizing he still hasn't spoken about that.

"We don't know."

"Then I'll say goodbye to my family first," I say steadily, as I head to the door. "If you'll excuse me…"

Magnus just sighs and doesn't say anything- I'm already used to the attention the Capitol people have been giving me, especially after I won the 66th Hunger Games. I run upstairs and pack a bag with some personal objects- toothbrush, a picture of my family, a couple of novels, a comb- and rush back downstairs.

I kiss my mother on the cheek and after hugging my father and messing Gloss's hair, I follow Magnus and the Peacekeeper to the train station.

He's repulsive.

That's practically all I can think of as President Coriolanus Snow sits behind his desk, with his static eyes scrutinizing every inch of me. I make an effort to smile pleasantly.

President Snow twists his puffy lips in a smile and tangles his fingers under his chin. "You were right, Magnus, she will do perfectly," he says, without tearing his gaze away from me.

I turn around on my chair, just as Magnus takes a bow and quietly leaves the office. I turn back to the president. "Will do for what?" I ask with curiosity.

President Snow doesn't answer right away, as he runs his fingers over a jar of roses he has on the desk. "Are you a virgin, my dear?" he asks lightly, exactly as he would if he was talking about the weather.

I almost choke. "Ex-Excuse me?"

"I asked if you are a virgin," he says, still focused on his roses.

"I… I… What?" I stammer, feeling my cheeks burn.

President Snow sets those horrible eyes on mine, making me feel like I'm shrinking. "I'm an awfully busy person, Miss Mabel, and you are making me waste my time. It's a simple question, and I'd be grateful to get a straight answer. So- yes or no?"

"No," I spit. "No, I'm not."

He gives me a venomous smile. "Excellent."

President Snow didn't say that like it is a good thing- he said that like I'm livestock- to make me feel insignificant and dirty. "Why did you ask that? What will happen to me?" I whisper.

"Oh, nothing you should worry about." President Snow waves his hand dismissingly. "You see, Miss Mabel, right now you're the most beautiful woman in Panem." He licks his lips and I have to try hard not to throw up. "And a lot of gentlemen are more than willing to pay good money to enjoy the pleasure of your… company. And I would like you to let them spend some time with you."

I cover my mouth. Prostitution. He's talking about prostitution. I'm not stupid.

"What if I refuse?" I ask shakily, with what little resolution I have left.

"Are you familiar with Mr. Abernathy's story?" he inquires. I shake my head; I know perfectly well who Haymitch Abernathy is- the drunkard victor from District 12, crowned sixteen years ago-, but I never paid much attention to him. "I thought so. Such a tragedy… you know, a few weeks after he did that little stunt with our force field, his family suffered an unfortunate accident. Poor boy… right when he was so happy he had won the Games." President Snow smiles, showing his pointy, stained teeth. "It would be a shame if the same happened to you, don't you think?"

I clench my fists. I can't let anything happen to my mother, my father, or- I swallow- Gloss. I just can't. "When do I start?" I mutter, unable to look him in the eye.

I hear the creaking sound of a chair, so I suppose President Snow has just leaned back. "As soon as you leave this office," he explains. "You were assigned to someone very special, due to your outstanding beauty. You should feel honored."

"Who?" I ask, fighting back a tear. I have to show him that I'm stronger than he thinks.

"My son."

My head darts up. "Your son?" I can't help but sound absolutely disgusted: President Snow's son is a man in his thirties, happily married to a beautiful woman- their wedding was as magnificent as the Games opening ceremony-, and father to an eight-year-old girl. But what kind of family man requests a prostitute that could almost be his daughter?

President Snow gets a file from his desk drawer and starts going through it. "Not the son you're thinking of," he says, sounding bored. "My other son, Cassius, doesn't leave the house very often. You'll be staying here with him."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "For how long?"

"Until the Victory Tour, or until he gets bored with you. Whatever happens first." President Snow shoots me a warning look. "You won't speak to anyone about this, especially about Cassius. Understood?"

I nod, thinking about my family. "Perfectly."

He shows me his pointy teeth again, in a poor imitation of a fatherly smile. "Good." The president pushes a button behind his desk. "You can take her now, Magnus."

I don't pay attention as Magnus- who I now realize is some kind of butler- guides me along the labyrinthine halls of the president's mansion, while occasionally making some remarks about this painting or that statue. In a different situation, I would be asking him questions non-stop about these pieces of art, but right now I can't think of anything else but what awaits me.

I had never heard about this Cassius before: sure, President Snow might have had some lovers- People like me, I think with a twist of my stomach- along his life, but he only has one son, that I know of- born from the relationship with his deceased wife. What does he look like? Will he try to treat me nicely? What if he's a psycho? - These thoughts fill my head, as we reach a couple of white wooden doors.

"This is the Master's bedroom," Magnus informs me. "Yours is right across the hall, so you can get here easily, and you will be available twenty-four hours a day." I clench my teeth; I could kill Magnus more easily than a fly and then run away, but everyone I love would be dead by the time I reached District 1. "Now," Magnus adds, "you will get in there, do what you have to do and then leave, unless Master Cassius tells you otherwise." Magnus knocks, and without waiting for an answer, places his hand on the doorknob. However, before he spins it, he turns to me with the same look of warning I had seen on President Snow's eyes. "One last thing- you are not allowed, under any circumstances, to comment on the Master's appearance."

I just give him an icy stare; the Capitol's beauty standards are so weird that I'm prepared for anything. Then he opens the door, and pushes me inside the room.

It's almost too dark to discern anything, but those weeks in the arena have sharpened my senses, so I see it right away- crouched by the bed is what appears to be a huge wolf with spiky fur and its eyes gleaming in the dim light that comes from the hallway.

I don't scream- I just push Magnus aside, not to protect him but to have a wider action range, and pull out the knife I keep hidden in my dress, aiming it at the creature; but when I thrust my arm forward, my hand is empty.

"She's here, Master Cassius," Magnus says calmly, holding my knife. "I believe you will have to be careful with this one."

I scan the room, looking for the owner of the mutt on the carpet, but I don't see anyone. Magnus keeps his gaze on the creature, but there's not a hint of fear in his eyes.

"Alright, alright," says a raspy male voice. I freeze when I realize the words came from what I thought was a wolf, which is now getting up on its hind legs and walking towards me. "You can go away now, Magnus. You're just cockblocking."

Much to my pleasure, Magnus looks offended. "She had a knife, maybe we should…"

I gasp as a clawed, hairy hand clasps around my arm. "If she has anything else hidden inside that dress I will find out soon, don't you think?" Cassius snarls, as he pushes his servant out of the room.

"But, Master Cas-" Magnus starts, but Cassius-the-wolf slams the door on his nose.

Cassius waits until Magnus's steps can't be heard anymore to let go of my arm. "Old coot," he grumbles under his breath, as he returns to his original spot on the carpet. "Always interrupting my chess!"

I watch, fascinated, as Cassius finishes a game of chess against himself, seemingly unaware of my presence. He's a lunatic!, I think, unable to move. And I'm supposed to have sex with him!

"I'm Cassius," he says suddenly, startling me. "But you can call me Cas."

"Cashmere," I say, trying to sound relaxed, even though I'm holding my knees together to stop them from shaking. He still has his back turned to me, but at any moment he will get up, turn around and do whatever he wants to me- and I'll have to pretend I'm okay with that.

"I know who you are," Cassius climbs to his feet and then sits on the bed, staring at me. "My father sent you, didn't he?"

I purse my lips. Should I be undressing? I can see he's only wearing a pair of jeans, but he's sitting like he just wants to talk. "Yes, he did."

"That pervert." Cassius shakes his head and looks me in the eye; I can now see that among all that light brown fur that covers his face and his wolf-like features, Cassius's eyes are strikingly human, of a shade of sea-green, and what should be his lips are curled in a half-smile, showing his fangs. Fangs! "How old are you? Fifteen, sixteen?" he asks.

"Eighteen," I say, crossing my arms. Can't he just get this over with?

Cassius whistles, surprised. I was expecting him to howl. "You're getting older! Has Papa Snow decided to provide his favorite son some real action? He usually sends little virgins."

I cringe. "I'm not…" I try to find the right words. "I'm not really that experienced," I confess.

"No problem," he says cheerfully. Then, his pointy wolf ears start turning around frenetically, and Cassius grins mischievously. "Come here," he says excitedly. It's the last thing I want to do, but I walk up to him anyway, waiting for the worst. "Do you hear that?" Cassius asks. I shake my head; I don't have super-hearing like him. "Magnus's room is right under mine," he explains. "And he's in there."

Without another word, Cassius stands on his bed, and before I can ask him what he's doing, he starts jumping. I widen my eyes; he asked me how old I am, but how old is he? I thought he'd be much older than I am, but judging from his behavior and the messy appearance of the room around me, I'd say he's not much over twenty years old.

"What the hell was that?" I hiss, when Cassius grunts out of nowhere; I know I'm being rude, but I couldn't help myself- he's a complete nutjob.

"I don't want my father to think his money is not being well-spent," he pants, between jumps. "Now hop on!"

Absolutely stunned, I follow his order, and find myself jumping on a bed with President Snow's half-wolf son.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, giggling. I can't help it- the whole situation is just too odd for me to keep a straight face.

"First of all, it's fun," he says, "And second of all, I take any chance I get to piss Magnus off."

"No, I mean-" I hesitate, "Why are you pretending we are… you know."

Cassius stops jumping, and I notice his ears have dropped a little. "I can't force you to do anything," he says. I open my mouth to tell him that indeed he can- in fact, his father made it very clear- but Cassius just raises his hand, stopping me. "I mean… I can, but I won't."

I blink, and the knot I had in my stomach loosens; I can't believe my luck. "Did you… did you do the same with all the others?" I ask. "With the…" I smile, "Jumping?"

"Well, yes," Cassius says, as if he's stating an obvious fact. "But the girls my father sends never join me. They are too frightened." He looks at me with curiosity. "But you didn't even blink when you pulled out that knife."

I shrug. "I was in the arena. It takes a lot more than a wolf-boy to scare me." I silently scold myself, realizing what I just said. "Sorry," I stammer.

Cassius just smiles; saying his appearance is bizarre would be a big understatement, but he's not nearly as disgusting as his father. "Don't worry, I've been called worse." He lays back on the bed, crossing his hands under his head, and looks at me from the corner of his eye. "So, how long will you be staying?"

"Until you get tired of me," I reply blankly. "I think I'm supposed to be your mistress. How long did the other girls stay?"

Cassius's ears drop once again. "I usually dismiss them after a week or so. Sometimes I send them away after one night, if they are particularly scared." He looks at me timidly. "I was hoping you could stay a little longer. My father obviously handpicked you, and… and… I don't think he would be very happy with us if I dismissed you right away. I promise I won't try anything," he assures me.

He seems so uncomfortable that I can't help but feel pity for him, something I never thought would happen with someone from the Capitol. But Cassius looks so sad… I decide to stay: not because he acted as a decent human being- although I'm thankful for that- but due to the fact I didn't see anyone in this part of the house, apart from Magnus and a couple of Avoxes; he's completely alone in here. Besides, the longer I stay here, the longer I will go without President Snow assigning me to a new- and probably less chivalrous – client.

So, with the image of Cassius playing chess by himself on my mind, I say, "Your father ordered me to stay until the Victory Tour, but… if you don't mind, I would like to see my family a little before that."

It was a very risky request, but Cassius instantly hops from his bed, his eyes gleaming and shaking his tail (how didn't I notice he has a tail before?). "That's nearly five months!" he exclaims. He starts muttering to himself, while he picks up dirty underwear from the floor and opens the curtains; night has fallen, and the moonlight is now shining through the windows. "Are you tired?" Cassius asks.

"Exhausted," I confess; the train ride from District 1, my conversation with President Snow, and my meeting with this strange boy have completely worn me out.

"I'll show you to your room." Cassius opens the door and steps to the hall, waiting for me; I follow him up to another pair of white wooden doors, identical to his. As I walk behind him, I get a chance to observe his back, which is as hairy as the rest of his body; I fight an urge to ask him how he got like this- it's obvious that his appearance is what keeps him indoors, but why doesn't he have plastic surgery? Surely that's the reason he looks like an animal. Can't he change back?

"Here you go," Cassius says, revealing a room, almost as big as his, all decorated in white and a lovely shade of baby-blue. "Thanks for staying."

I nod, and I want to thank him for not taking advantage of me; however, I just say "Good night."

Cassius smiles and I shut the door, feeling somewhat relieved.

When I wake up in the next morning, I find my breakfast set on the bedside table; one of the Avoxes must have brought it. I eat gladly, thankful for the fact that I won't have to leave my room just to get a meal, and risk running into Magnus- or worse, President Snow. Even though something tells me he doesn't visit his youngest son very often, there's no way to be sure about that.

I spend the entire day in my room, exploring each corner and pushing every button I can find, just to see what they do; I finish one of my novels by the time evening comes, and I stretch on the bed, waiting for Magnus to appear and tell me Cassius has requested my presence- however, the only person to enter the room is the Avox that brings me my dinner. I wait a couple more hours and then go to sleep.

The second day also goes like this; I finish my other book, but thankfully I find a pile of magazines to fill the rest of my time. Once again, the only person I see the whole day is another Avox.

On the third day, I begin wondering what would happen if I left my room and went exploring; I have nothing to do, and Cassius seems to have forgotten about me- it's not even like I'm trying to run away.

By late afternoon, I finally decide to have a look around; I peek into the hallway, and quietly shut the door behind me. I take about twenty steps forward before admitting to myself I have no idea where I'm going- the cream-coloured walls, the white doors, and the red carpet that covers the wooden floor all look the same, wherever I turn to; I even take a look upstairs and downstairs, but it's like looking into a mirror. I sigh when I realize I only know the way to Cassius's room- the only other door in this part of the hallway; I bet Magnus did it on purpose, so I would have nowhere to go except for "the Master's room".

I stare at the door for a moment before knocking, but the idea of spending more time in my room with absolutely nothing to do is just too awful, and ends up winning over any suspicion I may have left about Cassius. Besides, I think he's proven he's a quite unusual Capitol boy, in a good way.

"Who is it?" Cassius shouts from the inside.

"It's me," I reply, ignoring the annoyance in his voice. "Cashmere."

"Come in," he says in a different tone.

The first thing I see when I step into Cassius's room- which is looking much more pleasant, now that he's letting the sunshine in, and picked up his dirty clothes- is a dart whizzing past me and hitting the center of a target- or should I say, Magnus's nose, since Cassius has placed a picture over the target.

"Nice shot," I praise.

Cassius looks sheepish. "I know it's childish," he says, referring to the dart sticking out of Magnus's face.

"Not at all," I say lightly; I point to the darts he still hasn't used. "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead."

I pick up two darts and aim them at Magnus's eyes. "We'd have more fun if you had knives," I sigh, when I hit the spot.

"Now that's twisted," Cassius says with a smile. I shoot him an amused look, as he sits down and signals me to do the same. "I wasn't expecting you to come so early."

"What do you mean? I thought I was supposed to come every day."

Cassius looks ashamed once again. "I… I wanted to give you some time to get used to your situation. Not forcing my company upon you, you see?"

I manage to crack a half-smile. "Didn't Magnus suspect anything?"

"Of course not," Cassius snorts, "He avoids my room like it's filled with the plague. Which is not as often as I'd like him to, unfortunately."

"Oh." Suddenly, I feel the urge to explain my presence here. "I had nothing to do, so I decided to drop by," I confess, as if "dropping by" is normal in this situation.

"You're bored?" Cassius ears dart up, and his eyes gleam. "Want to take a look around?" Without waiting for my answer, he hops from his chair and heads to the door.

I hesitate. "Are you sure it's okay?" After all, there's a reason why Magnus confined me to a room right next to Cassius's , without even needing to leave it to eat.

"Don't worry, you're with me."

I decide to give it a try and follow Cassius out of his room; he immediately begins moving swiftly along the halls, without hesitating once as he faces dozens of identical doors. Just like Magnus, he gives me a lecture about the artwork in display, but instead of describing it with unnecessary detail he just says if he likes it or not, and tells me how he once almost set a carpet on fire.

Cassius shows me the mansion's many rooms- most of them empty- and, much to my satisfaction, teaches me how not to get lost, using his favorite shortcuts. However, something's still nagging me.

"Won't we run into Magnus?" I ask, as Cassius guides me towards a door behind which comes a delicious smell.

"Nah," he says lightly, "He's either asleep or minding his own business. Thank goodness he doesn't wander around the house."

"What about…" I shiver. "What about your father? Should I be concerned that he might pop up at any moment?"

A shadow passes through Cassius's eyes. "My father only visits me once a month. That is, when he remembers to do so. I guess he just doesn't like to look at my face."

"I'm sorry," I say, meaning it. "I shouldn't have asked."

Cassius smiles. "You're not the one who should be sorry."

"So, uh…" I shouldn't insist on the matter, but if I'm going to live with Cassius for the next five months, I need to know what I can count with. "It's just you and Magnus?"

"Yep."

"Every day?" I ask, surprised. "You have no one else to talk to?"

"Well, no," Cassius says, as he opens the door and peeks inside. "I mean, there's the Avoxes, but they can't actually talk back, can they? Even if they could, they wouldn't want, or would be too scared to." He holds the door open for me, and I enter a kitchen almost as big as my room upstairs. "You hungry?" Cassius asks.

"Not really."

"Well, I am." Cassius heads to a huge fridge, as an Avox woman follows him with her eyes. "We came here to get strawberries and chocolate fondue," he explains playfully, turning to her. The woman lowers her eyes, seemingly pretending she hasn't heard or seen anything; I observe her, and my hatred for the Capitol and President Snow grows- what kind of president tortures his own people? What kind of father locks his son away?

"Alright, we're good to go," Cassius says, leading me out of the kitchen while holding a small bucket.

"That's not fondue," I whisper.

"She didn't need to know that. Besides, we're supposed to be upstairs doing the dirtiest things we can come up with," he jokes.

I laugh at his bluntness. "Couldn't we just have ordered that…" I glance at the label around the bucket. "Chocolate ice cream?"

"It's easier this way," Cassius replies mysteriously.

"What do you mean?"

"We're not going back to my room." He stops on his tracks and turns to me. "I want to show you something." Cassius fetches a key from his back pocket and approaches a door with delicate patterns carved all over the frame. "The presidents that came before my father had them destroyed, but kept one of each," he explains.

"One of what?"

Cassius doesn't reply, and just opens the door. "After you," he says, holding it for me. I walk past him and step inside the room.

I take a look around and freeze.

It's a library- about ten times as big as my room, and twice as tall, with books covering every inch of the walls; the windows almost go up to the ceiling, and through them I can see a beautiful garden. However, I'm still more focused on what's inside; I circle around the room, reading the titles and authors on the bindings- words that I had never heard of- and mentally calculating how much time it would take me just to read the books on the bottom shelf.

"Do you like it?" Cassius asks insecurely.

"Love it," I whisper, as I take Alice's Adventures in Wonderland from the shelf. "How did you know I like to read?" I ask, turning to him.

"I guessed," he says mischievously. "Maybe an extremely nosy Avox had something to do with it, but I swear it wasn't my intention to ask him about you."

I smile. "Thank you. So, do you come here often?"

"Almost every day. It's my favorite place in the house."

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah… of course, any book is better with this." Cassius holds out the bucket. "Ice cream?"

I laugh. "Sure."

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Squinting."

I sigh. "Just focus on your book. That way you won't see me squinting."

We've spent all our afternoons for the past weeks in the library, making a contest to see who can read faster. It's always the same routine: I get up, knock on Cassius's door and then we do whatever we please for the rest of the day- most likely we hide here- and at night, we always make sure Magnus doesn't get any sleep by jumping on the bed or the floor. And, much to my surprise, we've become friends- I think the fact we're both prisoners somehow helped.

Cassius puts down whatever book he's reading right now and crosses his arms. "Where are your glasses?"

I flip a page. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, not tearing my gaze from The Phantom of the Opera.

"Yes you do," he accuses. "My mother had them too, and she did the exact same face when she tried to read without them."

"I don't want to put them on."

"Why not?"

"Because," I reply defiantly.

"That's not an answer."

"Yes it is."

"Do it, or I'll hide your books," Cassius threatens.

"You wouldn't dare," I snicker.

"My library, my rules."

"Alright, you win," I sigh, taking my glasses from my pocket and putting them on. "Happy now?"

Cassius stares deeply into my eyes and smiles; I cross my arms and try to look menacing. "You should see your face right now!" he laughs.

I snort, annoyed. "Seems like my mother was right."

"What?" he asks, confused.

"She says I look ugly with glasses. Not by these exact words, but it is implied."

Cassius looks at me for a moment. "She's wrong. I've seen a lot of ugly things in my life." He pauses, giving me the impression that he's talking about himself. "And I guarantee you that your glasses are not one of them." When I don't say anything, he adds, "You look beautiful."

For the first time, I feel like that compliment really has a meaning.

Cassius opens the door as soon as I knock. He looks miserable, and I don't blame him- he's about to lose the only friend he's had for God knows how long. I must admit I don't feel very happy myself- the Victory Tour starts next week, but what will happen to me after that? What kind of people will I be sent to?

"Listen, I-" I start, but my voice trails off. Should I tell Cassius I'll miss him? Will I miss him? Strangely, I will.

"How much time do we have left?" he asks.

"An hour."

Cassius nods, resignation showing upon his face. "Come with me," he says, taking my hand. I just let my fingers slide inside his, not minding the strangeness of the hair that covers them, and follow him as he leads me to a part of the house I've never been to. From the quietness that goes upon him and the way he takes a cautious step after another, I'd say this is his father's territory. I feel a chill up my spine- this mansion couldn't be more different from the swamp that still haunts my dreams, but somehow the feeling is the same- and unconsciously tighten my grip on Cassius's hand.

"It's okay," he whispers. "I just wanna show you something."

He opens an opaque glass door to our right, and I find myself in a greenhouse, surrounded by roses of all colours, from black to bright orange- some of them are so small they could be mistaken for forget-me-nots, and others are the size of lettuce. The smell is not completely unpleasant, but it's too strong, even for a place with so many flowers.

"Is this yours?" I ask, running my fingers along the petals of a particularly funny-looking, polka-dotted rose.

"Technically, it's my father's." Cassius drags me further inside the greenhouse, until we can't see the door anymore. "But I'm the one who takes care of it. He doesn't have much spare time."

"Oh," I manage to say. Cassius lets go of my hand and approaches a rosebush that is so withered in comparison to the others that I wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't pointed it out- on it lays a single red blossom.

"This one's my favorite," Cassius confesses.

"Why?" I ask. The rose is not any different from the others- actually, it looks kind of plain. A normal rose.

"Because it's not genetically modified." Carefully, he plucks the flower and holds it out for me to take it. "It's unaltered… like you."

I inspire the delicate, natural scent of the rose- he's right, it's actually better than the others- before gathering the courage to ask what has been nagging my mind since the first time I saw him. "Cassius… how… how did you get like that?"

He doesn't even blink; he just runs his hand through his hair- the hair on top of his head, that is- and cracks up a half-smile. "I knew you'd ask sooner or later."

"I'm sorry," I say, embarrassed.

"No problem. It's actually a rather simple story- you know how everyone's obsessed with plastic surgery in the Capitol, right?" I nod. "Well, I started when I was fourteen. A little retouch here and there, dying my hair, nothing special. But I wanted to go the extra mile, so when I was sixteen, I heard about a new procedure that would allow me to have dog-like senses… I wanted to do it right away. They told me it wasn't safe, and that it hadn't been fully tested, but I was so vain that I didn't listen." Cassius sighs and goes on. "When I came back from the hospital looking like this, my mother almost had a stroke. And my father locked me here. Having a freak for a son could endanger his political career. So here I am, locked for six years!" His last sentence is too cheerful for me to believe he's actually happy this way.

"Can't you… reverse the procedure?" I ask, half-fascinated.

"Recently they've came up with some kind of therapy," Cassius explains. "They say it will bring me back to normal, but it will be painful and will take years… and no one can guarantee me that I'll be allowed out once I've changed back. It would be strange if another son of the president just popped out of nowhere. Most likely, I'll be trapped here forever."

"That's just insane!" I exclaim indignantly. "Where's your brother in all this?"

"I think he's just as afraid of our father as the next person," Cassius replies bitterly. "And he has his own family. He still visits me sometimes, though."

"And didn't anyone notice you were gone? Your friends? Society in general?"

"My father came up with a story, that I was very sick… after a while, people just forgot about me. And I didn't have friends. At least not true friends." He smiles. "Until now."

I beam, looking into his glinting green eyes and trying to find the normal-looking boy he once was. "What did you look like?" I blurt out.

"Jeez, you sure do love to ask questions!" he laughs. "But I'll show you."

Cassius takes me back to his room, and once we get there he begins raiding through his drawers. I stand in silence, overcome with curiosity, until he turns back to me, holding a small piece of paper. He hands it to me, and I take the photo closer to the light so I can see it better: pre- surgery Cassius wasn't actually that different from what he is now- the same expressive eyes, the same smile… he looked quite normal for a Capitol boy, with short light brown hair and nice features. He still wore a bit of make-up, though.

"Cute," I chuckle.

"Yeah, I was quite a good-looking lad, wasn't I? A true chick-magnet!" Cassius jokes.

"You are a good-looking lad. But maybe you should shave more often," I scorn.

"Miss Mabel?" Magnus's voice floats through the corridor outside the room, telling me it's time to go.

"Will I see you again?" Cassius asks hurtfully.

"I don't think that's up to me," I say.

"Well, then… see you some day. Goodbye, Cashmere." Before I manage to reply, Cassius leans forward and presses his lips against mine.

I'm not going to lie and say this doesn't feel weird- it definitely does, given the amount of facial hair- but it doesn't feel bad either. I feel myself flush, and my heart starts racing like I'm fourteen again, in love for the first time…

Oh.

Cassius is the one who breaks the kiss, taking a step back with an ashamed look upon his face. I touch his cheek, as if telling him 'it's okay', just as Magnus knocks on the door.

"Goodbye, Cassius."

Then I turn around, casting him one last glance, and head out of his room, still clutching the rose he gave me and the picture I forgot to return.