Chapter Two: Riddle Me This


"The addiction, the friction, it burns you alive

So illegal, no evil is seen with these eyes."

- Lolita, The Veronicas


Elethea's POV

The train hisses into the station as I stand by the window, glued to the outside world. The Capitol is a place of certain death for twenty-three tributes, yet it's so beautiful. It's practically bursting with colour and as always, my curiosity is running at a dangerous high. In fact, I'm so absorbed that for a moment, I forget Dom and Finnick are in the room, too. I don't even glance at Finnick – because no doubt he's still mad at me for yesterday.

"What do you think?" Finnick inquires, his question prompting me out of my reverie. He doesn't sound like he's holding a grudge, but I'm too fascinated by the world outside to spare him a look so that I can see for sure.

"Cool," I breathe, noticing that another train has already arrived at the station. I'm immediately nervous, but then I realise that these tributes must be from 3. The only reason I know this is because Finnick said the tributes from 1 and 2 are much bigger and older than Dom and I. These two being cheered onto the platform are young. The girl's around Dom's age, but barely taller than me. The boy's maybe my age and very slender. By the fear on their faces as our train stops behind theirs, I highly doubt either is a volunteer.

I collect myself and take a deep breath, my stomach fluttering a little apprehensively. I'm confident, but I'm not really the sort of person who knows how to present myself to a crowd. Dom knows. I can see it on his face as he straightens his shoulders and emerges from the train with a dazzling smile across his face. At first, I'm a little taken aback by the intensity of the roar from the Capitolians outside, but I do my best, smiling until my face hurts.

Finnick and Jehovah quickly usher Dom and I into the training centre, and we go up to the fourth floor. Even the elevator is amazing. I press a hand against the transparent glass, watching my reflection do the same. Everything about this place is ethereal. So very different from back in District 4, where the sun beats down on your skins, the sand sticks between your toes and the waves spray salt in your hair.

"Your prep team will come to collect you in about an hour." Finnick sinks into a chair, looking relieved. "You'll be separated and seen to by your stylists."

Jehovah offers him a glass of white wine, and he takes a deep, appreciative gulp. I wonder how mentoring can be such hard work. All he really has to do is give us pointers, tips on how to survive. So far, it's not what I've been expecting. I'm a Career. Was I really expected to run? Admittedly, I'm a bit unimpressed by that suggestion.

"I'm going to check out my room," Dom pipes up, walking out of the main entrance to find it. I glance at Finnick, who's already looking weary and swilling his glass of wine. I follow Dom down the corridor, skipping until I catch up with him.

"What do you think our costumes will be this year? Should we talk to the other Careers before the chariots, or during training?"

Dom turns to face me, a slight frown turning down his lips. "Give it a rest, El, we've only just got here."

I sigh heavily and venture into my own room. Dom isn't snappy really, he just sounds tired, too. I glance around and the room completely overwhelms me. My family isn't what you'd call poor, but even what we have back in District 4 is a pale comparison to the room I'm in now. The window takes up an entire wall by itself. The bed…I can't resist the urge to throw myself down and roll around. It's huge, big enough for three people at least. I give a contented sigh and flop back on my pillows.

"You're a nut." I jerk upright at Dom's amused chuckle from the doorway. I'm a little embarrassed at having been seen in my moment of private joy. I flush and push myself to my feet, noting the Dom is studying me intently as he leans in the doorway with his arms folded. Is he thinking about how easy it would be to kill me? "Come on. We should get something to eat before our prep teams come."


The prep team prods and pokes me until I feel that I'm sore all over. My hair's been twirled into a top knot, before being braided so that it falls down my back. The prep team had argued over whether to bronze my pale face, before agreeing it would just look tacky as it wouldn't go with my complexion. My lashes are coated with thick black mascara, my green eyes rimmed with golden eyeliner.

But it's my costume that bothers me the most. It's a sparkly gold thing – I don't know what else to call it – a sort of thin band across my that barely covers my breasts. I had a set of tiny matching shorts and over that, a net is draped, as if that will somehow conceal me more. I storm over to my chariot with a scowl, noting that Dom is wearing a similar costume except without the gold band around his chest.

"Do we seriously have to wear these costumes?" I demand.

"Yes." Finnick observes me critically, while Dom looks more perpetually amused than anything. "Why?"

I throw up my hands. "I'm practically falling out of it!"

"It's not that bad," Dom comments mildly with a shrug, as Finnick grins boyishly at my discomfort. What sort of sponsors am I meant to gain from wearing a fishing net and not much else?

"That's because you don't have boobs," I grumble. It's true though – at fourteen years old, I'm already sitting at something like a D cup, so I really don't need my breasts to be flaunted any more than they have to be. I frown as Dom starts laughing. "What's so funny?"

"You actually look nice," Dom replies, which causes me to stop in my tracks. Nice? Well, that wasn't really how I would describe my costume.

"For once," Finnick adds in a mutter.

I glare at him. "For once? What is that meant to mean?"

"Exactly that," Finnick replies cryptically, only serving to annoy me now. I'm not in the mood for games right now. All I want is a proper costume. Over in their armour, the pair from District 2 are snickering. We can't all look as gorgeous as Finnick Odair all the time. I swear, it's not fair. Even when he gets up in the morning and he should be all bedraggled and icky, he looks so hot.

"This is a net, Finnick," I remind him, shaking the offending material with vigor, "I'm wearing a net."

"Here." He sighs heavily and steps over, fixing the net up and hitching up the gold band around my chest so it isn't showing as much of my breasts. It's better, but I still feel like my costume is a catastrophe. Although, Finnick Odair's hands had been dangerously close to my boobs, so I guess that's a plus. Kind of.

"Thanks." I glance around and notice the pair from District 1. Both are wearing jewels that hardly cover any of their bodies. Neither of them seems to be perturbed by it. "At least we're not as bad as District 1. They're practically all jewels. Dom, don't push me off the chariot, okay?"

It seems random, but it's happened before, and I don't want to become another victim just for a bunch of laughs from a Capitol audience.

"Why would I?" Dom raises his eyebrows, clearly perplexed by the idea. When I roll my eyes to express the obvious, his frown deepens. "To gain sponsors, you mean? How would I manage that by pushing you off?"

"Don't give him ideas," Finnick warns, watching as I pull myself onto the chariot and Dom steps up beside me. "Smile and wave, kiddies."

"Kiddies?" I repeat incredulously as District 1's chariot lurches into motion. Finnick is only a little bit older than Dom, who is only a little bit older than me, so how can he see us as children? "Really?"

"And relax," Finnick adds. I force a smile as our own horses move forward. It makes my face hurt after a while, all the fake smiling. How can Finnick and the other Victors stand it? I can't help but glance around a bit nervously as we make our way towards the square. Dom notices and grips my hand.

"It's okay."

"I'm fine," I insist, wrenching my hand from his as if it's poisonous. I start waving, that stupid broad grin still across my face. I notice that Dom has copied my actions. The crowd is full of colour and motion. I can hardly hear over their dull roar. "We look like idiots."

I lapse into silence as the chariots drew around for the presidential address. Now we are stationary, I can get a good look at the others, especially at District 1 and 2 – who would soon become our allies. The boy from 1 was tall, easily over six feet, with a mop of blond hair and a square jaw. He is sturdily built and pays way too much attention to his district partner, a slender girl with silver-blonde hair. Actually, I think that's her name – Silver. The boy is Xavier or Xander or something like that.

Whereas District 1 are somewhat flirtatious, District 2 are a very serious pair. The boy is even taller than the District 1 guy, maybe 6'3 or 6'4. He has spiky brown hair and his arms folded over his chest as he listens to what President Snow is saying. The girl has fire-red hair and is tall and lean. I can't remember their names right now, but both of them seem fierce. A little shiver runs down my spine.

"Feel any better?" Dom's voice brings me back as our chariot wheels around and we begin the procession back.

"A bit," I admit. Seeing the tributes from 1 and 2 hasn't exactly done me a world of good. Dom is a lot taller than me, but both of the other boys tower over him. The girls are slimly muscled and I'd guess they are probably a lot stronger than me. I step off the chariot, shivering a little in the night's cool air. Finnick walks over and I fiddle with my net, wishing I had something warmer to wear.

"Did we do okay?" I ask a little worriedly.

"You did brilliantly," Finnick assures us, making me grin in delight. My stomach rumbles and I glance down, realising I haven't eaten anything since I'd stepped off the train. No wonder I was hungry.

"Dinner now?" I inquire hopefully.

Finnick laughs at that. "Yep. Come on."


Finnick's POV

I walk across to the lift, Elethea and Dom trailing obediently after me. They did good, considering the skimpy costumes they'd been given. I notice Elethea wrap her arms around herself and shiver. I follow her gaze, noticing the boy from District 2 staring at her intently as we step inside the lift. It's a little creepy. I press the little gold number 4 and the lift whizzes upwards.

"I'm going to get changed," Elethea declares, bounding down the corridor to her room. I can already smell the delicious aroma of food waiting for us. I haven't been mentoring for too long, only a few years, but I already know the drill. Dom mumbles an excuse and goes to change as well. I can't say I blame the poor kids. Elethea's breasts were nearly spilling out of that ridiculous costume of hers.

Elethea skips back out in jeans and long-sleeved shirt, while Dom wanders out at a more dignified pace. We all go to sit down at the table, and I note that Jehovah hasn't arrived yet. Probably out for a night on the town with his Capitolian friends. So long as he's getting sponsors, it doesn't bother me.

"Now I feel decent," Elethea states contentedly.

"You look it, too," I remark, heaping some steaming chicken with Dijon mustard on my plate.

"Yeah, well, I'm not falling out of my clothes now." Elethea shrugs, pouring herself a cup of cloudy apple juice. Dom, like any typical teenage boy, has already started eating, his plate heaped with a small sample of everything.

I inspect them both with a critical eye. They'd done well in the chariots and no doubt would earn some sponsors, but training is different. Dom is more mild and would probably keep to himself, but I can see Elethea as the type who'd try and show off. While Elethea is all wide-eyed innocence – not to mention a heavy dose of arrogance – Dom is more reserved, likely to save his opinion until he'd taken everything in. Personally, I'd put more money on a slow-burning fire rather than an instant spark.

"Training tomorrow," Elethea sighs heavily. "Great. We're going to get eaten alive. We're little."

Instead of correcting her and informing her that she's the only little on, Dom wisely chooses to take another bite of his cauliflower.

"You'll be fine," I assure them, hoping Elethea's negative attitude won't impact on Dom. She might be downcast for now, but tomorrow she'll be all cheeky grins and attempts to hurl her knife right into the heart of something.

"I hope so." Elethea cuts her chicken up into small pieces. "What do we do, then? Focus on survival, or our skills?"

"Try and balance it out," I suggest. I glance over at Elethea and wonder what a weapons a girl so tiny could possibly wield. "What weapons can you use?"

"Small knives," Elethea replies with a hint of pride in her voice. I think she mentioned something about that on the train – boomerang knives. The curved ones that spun through the air with deadly aim, and came whirling back to her.

"Focus with them," I instruct, before turning my attention back to my food. It's been a long day, and I need to eat.


I sprawl on the couch and sip a drink laced with rum, swilling the glass every now and again. It's only my first night in the Capitol, yet it shouldn't surprise me that already I've had a client to visit. A woman with cat-like eyes and a Cheshire smile who's taken a liking to Dom, and says me being in her bed will pay for him to win. I shudder to think of what Dom might endure if he wins, but Elethea worries me, too. She's young, but already she's almost got a woman's body.

"Why are you up?" A curious voice rouses me from my thoughts, and she's there, rubbing her eyes. She wanders into the kitchen and pours herself some water from the jug, before glancing back at me. She crinkles her little nose when I merely shrug. "Well, that's not much of an answer."

"Can't sleep," I mutter in reply. It's not exactly a lie. The disgust at the things I have to do to try and keep children like little Elethea alive is scarring.

"Why?" She asks, with a child's curiosity.

"Not feeling very well." I don't meet her eyes, raking a hand through my hair. "I'll be okay."

"I worry about you," Elethea says quietly, causing my head to snap up, eyes suddenly sharp as she regards me carefully. She's just a little girl. I'm none of her concern. The things I do to keep her and Dom alive are nothing to do with her. "You seem older than your age. And lonely."

"It's just the Games," I say dismissively, but I can see the panic rising in her green eyes. I can't scare her about the Games. She volunteered for this, she wanted this. I won't shatter her dreams. Elethea has to see the truth for herself.

"Is that what they do to people?" She inquires in a small voice, one that makes me not want to answer.

"It's hard to keep a relationship," I confess softly.

Elethea looks a bit confused. "Romantically?"

"In general," I admit. The only thing I've experienced is meaningless flings with Capitol women, be they old or young. It doesn't matter, so long as they pay. It doesn't matter, even if it leaves a sick taste in my mouth and makes bile rise in my throat.

"You could make friends with other Victors," Elethea suggests, and I find it kind of cute that she's trying to take up this role, as if she can advise me instead of the other way around. "The youngest from 1 aren't much older than you. They'd understand."

"Trust me." I wasn't sure if Gloss and Cashmere were courtesans too, but if they were, I didn't know about it. My voice hitches slightly and there are tears welling in my eyes. Dammit. "They wouldn't."

"Why not?" Elethea persists, truly ignorant to my sadness. "They won, too."

I shake my head ruefully. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," she argues, before she seems to regret her harshness. "So who would understand? Why do you shut people out?"

"El, only a few people would understand." My voice is quiet, and I'm hoping to convey the message that I just want to leave the subject along. She's a pest, but she's also so very innocent, ignorant to the world. "I'm sorry, but you aren't one of them."

She scowls at that. "I'm not a child."

Yes, you are. "I know."

"Is that why you're upset?" Elethea tilts her head to the side, observing me carefully as though still trying to make sense of it all. "Because you won?"

I shake my head. It's only a small part of a much larger truth. Elethea, for whatever she likes to say, is just an innocent little girl. She wouldn't even be able to begin to imagine the things I have to try and do to keep my tributes alive. I watch as she bites her lip, green eyes troubled.

"I don't understand."

"Maybe you will one day," I mumble. That'll only happen if she wins, though. Then she'd know what it's like to be a Victor. Inspecting Elethea, I have to admit that she's a pretty thing. Even if she does win, which is unlikely enough, I hope she'll never understand the pain of being sold out. "El, this isn't about winning. It's what about what the Capitol does to some people after they win."

"What do they do?" She asks, all wide eyes and naivety. She's such a pain, in the fact that she's persistent and won't back down. I can't possibly tell her, although I'm tempted to because she's going to die, because she'll never have the chance to give away my secret.

"They make you offers," I say wearily, raking a hand through my hair and taking another sip of my drink, "Offers you can't refuse."