Chapter Ten

"So much for being discreet."

"I told her I wouldn't leave her."

"You say that like you think I will."

"You might. Didn't you realise what this would do to her?"

"I did it for her. She told me what really happened. She told me the truth about the last night of her Victory Tour, about what she had to do last time she was here. Did you know that? How could you let it happen? You say you love her and she believes you, but where were you when she needed you? At home with Astoria?"

"Stop it!" I shout, sitting up as I decide I can't pretend to be asleep for any longer. "Both of you!"

"I will always hate myself because I couldn't stop it," continues Falco as if he didn't hear me, still addressing my brother. "I hate myself because that was the time I truly realised how little power I really have. By then it was too late for me to stop it. But I won't make the same mistake again."

I've had enough of this. I've heard enough. What is this? 'Let's Talk About Cashmere Like She's the Object the Capitol Believes She Is' Day?

"I said 'stop it'!" I scream, my voice so loud that the room suddenly feels too quiet when I fall silent. "You!" I shout, staring straight at my slightly stunned looking brother. "You shouldn't be shouting at him, you should be going to training and making sure you bloody well stay alive, because if you don't then I'll kill you!"

He stares right back at me, his eyes giving me the impression that he wants to point out the flaw in that sentence which is so obvious even my rage doesn't blind me to it. However he doesn't quite dare and he remains quiet.

"And you!" I continue, rounding on Falco, who is still sitting on the sofa we both fell asleep on, looking considerably less shocked than Gloss. Because I know him as well as I do, I know it's only because he's better at hiding his emotions, and that makes me shout even louder. "Do you think you wallowing in self-loathing is going to help me? I love you, and I don't blame you for what happened, so what makes you think you have the right to blame yourself?"

They exchange glances but don't speak, and a second later my rage abruptly fades and I flop back onto the sofa next to Falco.

"I'm done now," I say calmly, looking at each of them in turn. "But don't talk about me like I'm not here again."

"I'm sorry, Cash," replies Gloss as he sits down on the floor at my feet like he always did when we were growing up.

I let him lean back against me for a couple of minutes but then I stand up, pushing him with one hand and dragging Falco with my other.

"Let's go. They'll wonder where we are if we're not at breakfast."

"Whatever you say, Your Majesty," replies Falco, his voice playfully mocking.

I roll my eyes at him before striding towards the door.

"Cash?"

"What is it, Gloss?"

"This is the dining room. They'll bring breakfast to you if you wait a while. It's not even light outside yet."

I love him to death, but there are times when I hate my brother.

"I have to go now. I'll be late for training."

I look around and close the dining room door just in case anyone is listening to our conversation despite how Diamond and Fortune have long since left the room.

"Don't dismiss the Alliance yet. Please, Gloss. Trust me. Even if you don't want to stay with them when you get in the arena, at least give yourself the option."

"I can't be doing with it, Cash," he replies. "I can't read people like you can and I don't want to spend the whole time waiting for someone to stab me in the back."

I sigh, not quite feeling able to bring myself to remind him that he'll be doing that anyway, whether he stays with what is commonly known as the Career Alliance or not. I also don't see the point of telling him that he's every bit as perceptive as I am, mostly because that's a truth I know he'll never believe. Instead, I use my favourite tactic that never lets me down and always works.

"Please, Gloss," I say as we both stand up. "Do it for me."

He nods and leans down to kiss the top of my head briefly before turning and leaving the room. Almost as soon as he has vanished from my sight, I hear Diamond yelling at him because they're going to be late. I smile when there's no audible response from my brother, imagining the obvious indifference I know he will be showing her.

"Where are you going now?" asks Falco, making me rapidly spin around to face the doorway behind me.

"How many times have I told you?" I retort, only half teasingly. "Don't creep up on me like that."

He walks towards me, clearly trying to look humble and apologetic. It doesn't work and I can't help laughing, which I have no doubt was his intention.

"Not here," I scold, pulling back when he puts his arms around me and kisses me. "Are you mad?"

"Madly in love with you," he whispers teasingly, his voice mocking rather than sickly-sweet. "And there's nobody to see or hear us here. I told you that when you first came to the Capitol."

I roll my eyes at him before giving up and letting him hold me. I'm slightly annoyed with myself for my lack of resistance but I'm nowhere near annoyed enough to move.

"Where are you going? I thought you were going to show me the Control Room."

"I will. But you know what I have to do, Butterfly," he says quietly, suddenly completely serious as he steps away from me. "I'm not allowed to sponsor Gloss and neither are you."

I shiver in response to his words. "Be careful whose debt we're getting into," I tell him pointedly and he nods, his eyes not leaving mine.

"You know I will. I'll see you after training has finished," he continues, his tone suddenly changing and becoming a lot more formal just as I sense someone else's presence in the room.

"Can I help you?" I ask Fortune as he stands there staring at me in a way that makes me feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Unfortunately not," he replies. "I've wasted enough of my time in this place. I'm going out."

"What about Diamond?"

"What about her?" he asks, and even though I know the girl will have to die so Gloss can win, I feel a pang of anger on her behalf at his indifference.

"I have to go," interrupts Falco, his voice settling my emotions immediately. "Have a good day, Cashmere," he says, smiling slightly.

"Have a good day," I reply, smiling as he walks away, knowing that he will have heard something entirely different to the words that actually left my lips, that the almost meaningless phrase means 'I love you' because I can hardly ever say the words I truly want to say.

As soon as Falco vanishes from my sight, I turn away from my fellow mentor in disgust and set off out of the Training Centre, walking the short distance to the Control Room. I know Falco said he'd show me how everything works, and I'm sure I'll get further with working out what I'm meant to be doing when he's with me, but there's no harm in having a look around by myself.

I know I'm not doing anything wrong, that I am a mentor and I have every right to be here, but that doesn't mean I don't feel like I'm sneaking around somewhere where I shouldn't be. I keep telling myself that's mostly because it's surprisingly quiet and for no other reason. I only see one or two people before I reach my destination and those I do see barely acknowledge my existence.

Strangely, the vast entrance of glass and dark stone looks even more intimidating without the lines of Peacekeeper guards blocking the doors, but I push my apprehension to the back of my mind and make myself walk towards them. When I get a short distance away, the sheet of glass slides silently to the side so my path is clear. I look all around because I still can't shake the feeling that someone's watching me, but I see nobody.

Once I've made it through the first set of doors I immediately cross to the other set, and I quickly find myself in a room like no other I have seen before. Only when I find myself gasping for breath do I realise I hadn't been breathing at all, that the sight of the place had shocked me into complete silence and stillness.

After a couple of minutes I manage to approach the station that lies under an illuminated sign bearing the number '1' in bright red lights. Then I sit down on the massive black desk chair from which I will be fighting for my brother's life in a few short days time, staring up at the massive television screens that cover virtually every available inch of wall space. They all currently bear the seal of the Capitol on a plain dark-blue background, but I shiver as I imagine them showing a very different picture. A picture of Gloss in the arena.

"Stop it, Cashmere," I tell myself angrily. "Gloss needs you. Get a grip."

I take a deep breath and focus on the smaller screen in front of me. I place my hand on the control panel purely because it seems the logical thing to do, and the computer immediately springs to life. It reacts so quickly to my touch that I instinctively jump back, letting go and making everything switch off again.

I laugh nervously at myself, and even that small sound seems to fill the otherwise silent and deserted room. I reach forward for the panel again and the screen lights up, showing me a series of graphs and tables which are mostly incomprehensible, all surrounding yet another Capitol seal. My eyes flick systematically from one section to the next, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. It doesn't help that everything is set at zero because the Games haven't started, but I persevere, knowing that I can't help my brother if I don't know what I'm doing.

I've just about managed to work out that the chart on the top right is going to tell me how much sponsorship money my brother has been pledged and by how many sponsors, and that the chart on the top left will do the same for Diamond, when I hear the door swing open.

I look up curiously, taking my hand away so the screen blacks out, but my curiosity turns to apprehension when I see who has disturbed me.

"You," hisses the man from District Two whose look of total hatred I haven't forgotten despite all that has happened since I went to his district for my Victory Tour. "I've been waiting for this."

"What are you going to do, Tiberius?" I retort, deciding in a similar way to when I met Enobaria this time last year that showing fear isn't a good idea. "If you touch me in here then the Capitol will be on you before my heart stops beating. This is the Control Room so they'll be watching us. They probably know what we're going to do before we do."

He says nothing and stalks across the room towards me, suddenly reminding me of the cat-like muttations I fought in the arena. He moves like they did, like a predator hunting its prey, and I quickly stand up, not knowing if I intend to run or fight back.

Seconds later, as he stops a few metres away from me, I wish I'd stayed sitting down. The only thing standing has done is remind me how small and weak I am in comparison.

"It's not my fault she let me past her guard because she was so arrogant," I say, guessing this is all about Dahlia. "It was her or me and I didn't want to die."

"You're not supposed to be here," he retorts, his hands forming tight fists as he takes a step forwards. "You weren't supposed to win."

"So you want vengeance? Don't we all," I reply evenly, knowing he's unlikely to be stupid enough to actually attack a fellow victor, especially in the Control Room. "Virtually everyone in Panem wants their revenge on someone for something."

I stare up into his dark eyes, waiting for his rage to subside and hoping that it will.

"She wasn't supposed to die," he breathes, his voice barely audible.

"But she did. Killing me won't bring her back."

"No, it won't," he replies, his expression telling me he wouldn't act on his threats even though he certainly wishes to. "But it will make me feel better."

"For a few minutes. Then you'd remember that she's still dead and you'd be right back where you started."

I stare unblinkingly back, realising that although there's a huge difference between Sapphire and the girl who I now know was more than just a tribute to the man who stands opposite me, I've had reason to think of such vengeance for long enough to know what he's feeling.

"Tiberius!" snaps another voice from the direction of the main door, echoing around the room like cannon fire echoes around an arena.

"Following me again, Ursala?" he drawls, turning his back on me to focus on the woman who walks fearlessly across the room towards us. "If you want me then you only have to ask."

"Did you ask Vilani?" she retorts sharply, surprising me with both her mention of Dahlia and with her familiarity and how little she feels intimidated by him. "Or didn't you think you needed to bother?"

Then I remember her, and my sudden recollection explains why she is so confident. Ursala Barbieri, District Two's Victor of the Fifty-eighth Games. She must be their other mentor this year.

"Vilani made her own choices and I never forced her," growls Tiberius, pushing Ursala out of the way so hard she falls against the table she was standing beside, "but I fail to see how that's your business anyway."

I smile when she immediately straightens and walks over to me, not knowing why I'm surprised by her lack of reaction to the pain she must have felt.

"He loved her in his way. He's angry. And he won't ever admit it but he still grieves," she says as she turns to watch her fellow mentor storm from the room and slam the door behind him.

"We're all angry and we all grieve," I reply flatly, shrugging my shoulders as I wonder why she's telling me. "But I have to say I'm amazed you know that much about him. He doesn't exactly seem the talkative type."

"He's my cousin," she says, before continuing in response to my raised eyebrows as if she knows I'm thinking of his first words to her. "Well, step-cousin really. We're not related by blood. It's a long story."

"I'm from District One," I tell her with a slight smirk. "I'm used to complicated families and long stories."

She laughs. "I wouldn't really know about that, but from what I do know, I'd say our districts are about even."

I nod but say nothing further, watching her as she approaches District Two's computer station, moves a couple of things around, presses a few buttons on the screen and then turns back to look at me.

"We can't do anything here, Cashmere," she says. "We might as well go back to the Training Centre. Will you walk with me?"

"Wouldn't that be fraternising with the enemy?" I reply, narrowing my eyes at her suspiciously. "I won't tell you anything. It's very unlikely that I'd be stupid enough to under normal circumstances and I think the whole of Panem knows these aren't normal circumstances for me."

"She told me you're defensive but I thought she was exaggerating. How wrong could I have been?"

"Who told you?" I snap, knowing I'm proving her right but remaining unable to stop myself.

"My other tribute girl. The one I'm glad I was able to leave behind. You've met before."

"Astraea?"

She smiles slightly and begins to walk towards the door, somehow knowing that the mention of my former-ally's widow will make me follow. We leave the Control Room building together.

"Did she say how we came to meet? What's she been saying about me?"

"Yes, she did. She told me what she told you when you went to my home during your tour. She says she tried to hate you but she couldn't."

"Because he told me the truth," I whisper in response.

Ursala nods once and walks over to a bench. I follow her and quickly notice it's the one I'd sat on last night when I met the Gamemaker called Heavensbee.

"I saw you at the reaping," she says. "I saw your brother volunteer."

"Of course you did," I snap, suddenly suspicious again. "The whole country did. What's it to you anyway?"

"Nothing. I'm curious, that's all."

"What's there to be curious about? He's my brother, I love him, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep him alive. That's all you need to know."

"There must have been a reason for him to volunteer. He didn't have to, especially not with you already a victor."

"It's none of your business," I reply. "You don't know me, so why do you care?"

She shrugs, pushing her long black hair back behind her ears. To look at her now, she doesn't look like the stereotypically vicious District Two tribute that I very vaguely remember her being when she was in her arena. When I stare into her dark-brown eyes, I can't see any hint of the ulterior motive I still half suspect she has.

"Because 'Straea went out of her way to not quite mention you and I read between the lines like I always have to. And because you're like me. Or you were, but maybe with your brother in the Games you won't be now."

I continue to stare at her as I suddenly understand what she's referring to even though she said nothing directly. "Do you think I care about that? Don't you think I'd do anything to keep my brother from the arena? I wish with all my heart that he hadn't done what he did, no matter what it would mean for me."

She nods, and I can tell that was the reaction she was waiting for, although I have no idea why. I've said too much, I know that, but I can't say that I wish I could take it back. I like to think I'm a good judge of character and despite being a rival mentor, this woman doesn't give me the impression she means me any harm. And Panem knows I could use some friends in the Control Room, because Falco won't be able to be there all of the time.

"I've seen you before," I tell her, shuddering at the memory I abruptly recall. "At that banquet at the end of my Victory Tour."

"You're not the only one of value, Cashmere," she says bitterly, narrowing her eyes at me.

Again I understand her meaning immediately, and looking at her makes me wonder if I'll become like her eventually. She speaks with the voice of a person who has accepted her fate, and other than the haunted look in her eyes, there is no hint of the anger, resentment or pain that I'm sure she must feel.

I hear a bell ring from the Control Room building, and I look around, immediately remembering where I am and that there could well be someone listening to our conversation. After everything Falco's told me about the president's network of spies, how could I be stupid enough to not think about it sooner?

"I'm District Two and you're One," says Ursala, almost as if she read my mind. "If anyone's watching us they'll think we're talking about arena alliances. So spit it out. What do you want to say?"

"I have a family, I have people I care for. From what Corvinus told me, if you were a District Two tribute then you probably don't have much of a family with you, so why were you at that banquet? It doesn't make sense."

"Her name's Velia," she replies eventually. "And if you tell anyone this then I'll make what Tiberius would do to you look merciful."

"Threats aren't necessary," I reply dryly before continuing in a softer voice. "Who's Velia?"

"My daughter," she says, smiling slightly when my shock evidently shows in my expression. "I know. I don't look the maternal type, do I? I didn't mean to have her. I went back home after I won the Games and I didn't want to be alone with my nightmares. I forgot I wasn't eating the Training Centre food anymore and by the time I remembered it was far too late to do anything about it. She was eight three months ago."

"And her father?"

"I don't see him. Not everyone has a fairytale ending, Cashmere," she replies, her words reminding me of what Satin said to me that day when she found me crying on the kitchen floor. "I guess he just didn't like to share."

"Why are you telling me this? It doesn't make sense."

"Sometimes it's easier to talk to a complete stranger," she replies. "And 'Straea said you're a good listener, and that you don't go shouting your mouth off as soon as you hear something not everyone knows."

"Does He know? I mean about Velia."

"He knows everything," she whispers, speaking so quietly that I can barely hear her even when I lean close. "Haven't you worked that one out by now?

I am about to reply, to tell her that there are very few people in Panem who haven't, when I am stopped by the sound of someone frantically calling my name. I look up to see Callista running down the path towards us.

"What's happened?" I ask as soon as she gets close enough to hear me, subconsciously assuming something awful has happened before my mind has chance to process the fact that they wouldn't have sent a stylist's assistant if it had.

"Happened?" replies Callista, confirming that I had been wrong to panic at the same time as reacquainting me with her almost unintelligible Capitolian accent. "Nothing's happened. Not that I know of anyway. I wanted to show you something. And as you're not doing anything…"

I turn to look at Ursala, realising that the currently purple-haired woman who is now bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in front of us is expecting me to follow her and that therefore I will have to leave the woman who might become my friend.

"I have to go anyway," says my fellow victor. "I don't say this to many people but it's been a pleasure meeting you, Cashmere de Montfort. I would call us allies but I don't think you'll have any in this Games."

"My only ally is my brother," I tell her, "so you'll forgive me for hoping both your tributes die in the arena." She nods in acceptance and understanding. "But that doesn't mean I reject your friendship."

"Come on, Cashmere," nags Callista, taking my hand and attempting to drag me from the bench.

I groan and finally give in. "Okay, okay. Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see," is the only reply I get before I'm dragged along the path, which I soon discover leads past the Training Centre and out onto the City Circle.

By the time I finally get back to the Training Centre it's late enough for the first day of training to be long over. Callista had taken me back to the Remake Centre, where she and Charis showed me the dress that Felix had intended to be my Victory Ceremony outfit before he and Falco had come up with the idea of remodelling the diamond encrusted one that Sapphire wore before her Games. They told me it had been left unfinished, and that they had worked on it themselves so I might be able to wear it. I was and still am surprisingly touched by the gesture, and I spent the whole afternoon there with them as they talked about the usual range of people and places I don't know, listening to them and enjoying the distraction they provided.

However it doesn't take me long to be jolted back to reality, especially when I walk down the Level One corridor and realise there is no sign of anyone else.

"Gloss? Falco?"

I peer around the television room door but there is nobody there. The massive screen is blank and everywhere is immaculately clean. It looks like it has been undisturbed for months, even though I know that is far from the truth.

I stop to listen closely, and only then do I hear the faint sounds coming from the dining room. It sounds like swords clashing, and though it isn't loud enough to be real, I move towards it immediately.

"What are you doing?" I ask quietly when I see my brother sitting alone on the sofa, staring up at the television.

He doesn't respond, so I follow the direction of his gaze to find myself watching a slightly younger and still scarred Enobaria Moreno facing an opponent twice her size as she fights to win the Sixtieth Games. The man she's fighting, who I remember as being one of my own district's tributes even though I can't recall his name, is trying to taunt her into losing her composure so she does something stupid. I can see his panic steadily increasing as she lunges forwards, her expression never changing.

"What makes a person become dead inside like that, Cash?" whispers Gloss as Enobaria slashes her blade across her opponent's throat, waits for him to fall and then casually walks away.

"A past so horrific it's almost impossible to imagine worse," I reply, recalling the tale Astraea told me of Dahlia's mentor.

I reach across him for the remote control and switch the television off, turning to face him and hoping the look on my face will convince him not to ask for an explanation. He nods, taking the hint immediately like he usually does.

"Why are you sitting on your own watching a replay of one of the most brutal Games ever?" I ask, trying again to get him to talk to me. "How was training?"

"I just wanted some space."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" I retort, rising quickly to my feet and pretending to walk away.

"You don't count," he replies, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back down beside him. "But if another reporter asks me how I feel…"

I smile sadly. "You'll have to get used to that. So what are the other tributes like?" I prompt again, refusing to give up.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I tried not to look at them, If I do then it will only be harder."

"And the Alliance?"

"I still don't want it."

"You did what I said though, didn't you?" I ask instantly, hearing the panic in my voice. "Please tell me you did."

"Relax, Cash," he says with a smile, pulling me against him and not letting me move. "I endured a whole day in their company, just for you."

"If you want to leave the others after the bloodbath then I will help you, but if you don't pretend to be with them now then you'll only make yourself a target."

"I know, but that man from District Two is unbearable. He needs someone to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face."

"I bet he's telling Tiberius the same about you," I tease, smiling when he laughs.

"Since when have you been on first name terms with District Two victors?"

"We had an…altercation when I went to the Control Room-"

"If he hurt you then I'll kill him," interrupts Gloss, going from amused to angry in an instant.

"Of course he didn't. In the Control Room? He wouldn't be so stupid."

"Just so long as he isn't."

"How about the others?" I persist, determined to get him to talk about this however hard he tries to evade my questions and deal with it all himself.

"Pelagia's not too bad," he says. "District Four," he adds in response to my confused look. "But her district partner's allied with Theodorus already. Or he thinks he is. You already know that Diamond and I are never going to get on, and what Megaera thinks is anyone's guess."

"Who's Megaera?" I say, asking him even though I think I already know the answer.

"District Two."

I nod thoughtfully as he confirms what I thought, struck by how different they seem in comparison to the tributes I was in the arena with. Nobody would ever have accused Dahlia of hiding her thoughts, but it seems that the same can't be said of the next girl to leave her district for the Capitol.

"District Three seems strangely confident and District Six thinks he's something special. District Five hasn't given up either. She's still trying. The rest have no chance."

"So tell me the rest then," I say. "Swords, knives or spears? Strengths? Weaknesses? Alliances? Arguments?"

"Cash-"

"No, Gloss," I interject immediately. "Start talking."

He sighs and obeys, telling me about the way Megaera fights with a sword rather than knives, which are usually the weapon of choice for the average District Two tribute girl, about the way none of his prospective allies seem to have any major weaknesses and the rest of the tributes have far too many for him to feel comfortable watching them. I wish he wouldn't say things like that because then I start to doubt he will decide to choose his own life above that of anyone else when the time comes.

However I say nothing and let him keep talking, not wanting to stop him now he's finally decided to start. The clock on the mantelpiece strikes for two in the morning when he eventually concedes that he can think of nothing else to say about his fellow tributes, but when he jokingly suggests that I should go to bed and get my beauty sleep I shake my head and lean against the back of the sofa.

He says nothing further, perhaps sensing that I don't want to waste time sleeping when he will be in the arena in four days time, however we must have fallen asleep eventually because that's where Falco finds us in the morning. I wake to find myself curled up against my brother with my head on his shoulder, exactly the same position we used to fall asleep in as small children. If Gloss notices then he says nothing and I'm grateful to him for that. If I think about the significance of my subconscious actions too much then I won't be able to think straight and I can't have that. I have to be strong. For Gloss. Nothing else matters.

I've nothing to say other than that I get a shock every time I see my review total for this story! You've all made my day :)