Chapter Fourteen
Katniss
"Wait!"
She turns, her braid slapping against her cheek at the sudden movement. Jasper skids to a stop only a few feet from her, bent over slightly as he tries to catch his breath. It's odd, really, she muses. Jasper – someone who is usually the most dignified of anyone she knows – looks just like any other harried person while doubled over from physical exertion. Odd how pain is the great equalizer.
Cato sighs impatiently from beside her, but she ignores him – although she doesn't particularly like the Capitol puppet, she's curious as to what he has to say.
"Please, don't leave. You'll attract too much attention. Besides, I'd like to extend an offer to you. I would love if you stayed at the house until you have the funds to leave," he says after a moment. Katniss pauses; she's not stupid. She knows that with no money, no connections, no familiarity with this strange world she is in a difficult predicament. From the conflicted look of Cato's face, he shares her thoughts.
"Why would you offer that?" he asks harshly. Jasper shrugs, straightening the dark lapels of his jacket absent-mindedly.
"I told you – you intrigue me," he answers simply, looking directly at Katniss. Katniss stiffens, her hand clenching around her bow. Why is he so interested with her? Surely he has better things to do than focus his mental abilities on her.
To her surprise, it is Clove that finally accepts his offer.
"Fine, Capitol boy," she sneers, palming her knife threateningly. Jasper nods curtly before sweeping an arm to the side and gesturing to a side hallway. Katniss watches him warily for another second before hesitantly following Clove down the corridor.
She steps into a small room, running her fingers lightly against the gilded wallpaper. The room is fresh and airy, golden light pooling through the large glass window and spilling onto the cream carpet below. She thinks of the crude wooden floor of her house back in 12 and the way her windows are boarded up to avoid the prying eyes of any ambitious Peacekeepers. Her fingers curl into a fist as she draws away from the wall and its disgustingly opulent designs.
She's about to stride back out of the room and leave the house when something stops her. She turns slightly, catching a glimpse of pale golden hair from the corner of her eye. Cato. He's staring rigidly out of the window in his room, his shoulders tense, his knuckles gripping the wooden ledge with enough force that she's worried he'll break it.
He looks as if he's barely holding onto sanity.
Katniss hesitates; should she talk to him? She doesn't want to – after all, he's a Career. She doesn't owe him anyth-no, that's not right. She thinks back to the way he brought her to the cave after the explosion. Prim's admonishing voice pops into her head, reminding her that even if she hates him, she can't just ignore the fact that he's one of the only ties she has left of her own time. She takes a reluctant step towards the door, flinching slightly when he whirls around the second she moves.
Honestly, is he this jumpy all the time? She pushes down her reluctance and juts her chin forward stubbornly, ignoring the way his dark eyes have a slightly crazed tint to them.
She stops a few feet from him, pausing when she realizes she has no idea what to say to a boy she was trying to kill just a few days ago.
They stare at each other silently, the seconds drawing out slowly. She hears a distant roar in her ears as she feels herself being pulled into his madness, his crazed fervor.
She has no idea how long they've been staring at each other. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours. She wouldn't know.
"What do you want?"
She blinks, starting from her reverie. She flushes instantly, realizing that she's been staring at him for who knows how long. To her surprise, Cato shows no sign of rubbing her brief lapse of judgment in her face; he has an impatient expression on his face, almost as though he's the one doing her a favor and not the other way around.
She scowls, narrowing her eyes.
Stupid Capitol puppet.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Cato
She's obviously floundering for a response. He rolls his eyes; honestly, he had thought Twelve to be more intelligent than that.
"I just wanted to make sure you weren't trashing this room or anything," she snaps. He blinks, his mouth dropping open slightly at the sheer rashness and audacity of her response; no one has ever dared speak to him this way before. The red haze begins seeping in around the corner of his eyes, staining everything with blood, blood, blood.
Twelve isn't backing down – no, the stupid girl is actually daring to do that insufferable thing she does with her chin. A spurt of laughter escapes the cage that is his throat, surprising even him. Twelve blinks – obviously she wasn't expecting him to laugh either.
He clears his throat before saying coolly, "Rest assured, Twelve. The walls are safe – for now." Again with the blinking thing – he smirks, glad to have left her speechless. He leans lazily back against said wall, folding his arms loosely across his chest.
She recovers quickly – pity, he rather enjoys seeing the so-called "girl on fire" rendered speechless. He frowns, a spurt of anger and bitter jealousy lashing through his chest as he recalls how the stupid Capitol people lapped her up during the procession. No, he can't get close to this girl. It's an alliance of necessity, nothing more.
Before he can speak, however, the door shifts open a fraction of an inch. He's ready in an instant, whirling around and crouching into an offensive stance – Cato's never been one to start on the defensive. A rush of adrenaline surges through him, a wicked smile growing on his face – finally, a chance to fight, to do something other than listen to these strange people from another age prattle on and on about elegance and class. Honestly, they're worse than Marius – and that is saying something.
Pale brown eyes peer timidly from the crack, the gap widening to reveal demure clothes and wispy gray hair pulled back into a neat bun. It's that serving woman from before – Milla? He doesn't really care. All he knows is that he's lost the chance to vent out his anger. He scowls, tightening his arms; he'll have to find some other way to get some training in.
He pointedly turns away from Milla, expressing his annoyance that she isn't someone else.
"Mr. Snow would like to invite all of you to supper," says a soft voice. Fantastic. Just what he wants to do – sit at a long banquet watching people pick daintily at food and talk about empty topics.
"No," he says shortly. To his surprise, Twelve shoots him a chastising look before saying, "We'll be there in a second." He whirls, glaring at her silently as Milla nods and ducks out of the room.
"What was that for? Do you want to converse with those idiots? Oh, sorry, I'd forgotten – you like that sort of stuff, don't you? Probably want Jasper to pull out your chair for you, maybe try on a pair of lace gloves if you're lucky!" The poisonous words are spilling out of his mouth, pooling down to the floor and widening the gap between them. He can feel her pulling away, and he tells himself that it's a good thing – he can't get close to her. Not when he might have to kill her later. So he lets the poison spill, each slippery word aimed to dig deep in her soul and wrench her emotions apart.
Smack.
Katniss breathes heavily, her fist still clenched tightly at her side. Did she – did she just punch him? He blinks, too shocked to react.
"Bastard," she hisses, her gray eyes narrowed dangerously and stray hairs springing free from her messy braid. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest heaving in and out with suppressed anger. In this moment, Katniss Everdeen very much looks like the girl on fire.
Cato's training kicks in, sending several possibilities rapidly to his mind – he can take advantage of her heightened emotions and whip out a leg to hook around her ankle to bring her down, or he can punch her quickly while she's still in close range, or he can grab the arrow hung precariously from her back and stab her in the heart, the eye, or even the gut if he's feeling particularly vengeful.
His left cheek throbs slightly, but it's nothing he can't handle. Telling himself that he's only showing mercy because he can't afford to kill her now, he merely glares coldly at her and steps forward.
She moves to move back, but the wall behind her stops her flight. He smiles cruelly, advancing even further until he's practically pinned her to the wall. He leisurely brings his arms forward to brace against the wall on either side of her dark hair, leaning in until his nose practically brushes hers. Odd – even under her deep tan Cato can spy a rising flush of dark rose blooming its way across her cheeks and neck. His glare never wavering, he slowly tilts his head to brush his mouth against her right cheekbone. She stiffens, holding her breath. She smells like the forest – fresh greenery, plants, and life itself.
"Be careful, Twelve," he hisses before drawing away. He spins on his heel and strides out of the room without a backward glance.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Katniss
Clink. Clatter. Tap.
The sound of gently clinking silverware fills the large room, interrupted only by the soft murmur of empty conversation that runs continuously.
God, how long is this dinner going to last? Katniss's knee bounces up and down underneath the tablecloth as she taps her fingers against the ornately embroidered cloth impatiently. She pulls at the stiflingly tight collar of her shirt restlessly, glancing out the window longingly.
Jasper sits at the foot of the table with his father sitting opposite him. Isabella has placed herself next to Cato and has 'accidentally' touched his arm several times. Clove is sitting to his other side and has been playing with her steak knife for the past half hour. Katniss sits opposite Clove and to the left of Jasper. She sighs again, poking half-heartedly at the mass of baked potato neatly arranged on her plate. She's already eaten as much as she can possibly hold in the first few minutes of the dinner. Being from District Twelve, she's more than used to wolfing down her food before anyone can take it from her.
So now she sits, surrounded by idiots who seem to be fascinated by the weather. Honestly, who cares if it's sunny today as opposed to rainy?
She happens to meet Cato's dark eyes and flushes, jutting her chin up to show that no, she is not intimidated by him. He shrugs, lifting his shoulders in an almost imperceptible movement before shifting his gaze back to his surroundings. She notes how his eyes rove over everything, taking inventory of every possible threat in the room. His training is painfully obvious – he's arranged the knives so they're within easy reach and she caught him staring pensively at the display of gilded swords pinned up to the wall above Jasper's father.
Jasper's father. She stares at him discretely, noting how he seems distracted by the idle conversation. She catches him staring at her and looks away quickly, suppressing a shiver that runs its way up her spine. Although Jasper is the spitting image of his father (they have the same glinting gold eyes, curling dark hair, and caramel skin), his father has the same air about him that President Snow did – cold, ruthless self-interest.
"What was your training regime?"
The words slide out of his mouth like snakes, hissing their way into her mind. She stiffens, looking steadfastly away from the other members occupying the room. This interrogation process has been continuing all throughout the meal, masked by interwoven questions about the weather. She sees right through him – he wants to know about his future, whether he stays in power, whether he becomes President. She's sure he does at some point – after all, in her time Effie Trinket is a mere Capitol escort while Snow is the president. She just can't seem to remember how this shift happened.
"Running until seven, breakfast, strategy until nine, stamina building until ten. Then some obstacles and various field training until twelve, lunch, weaponry until three, hand-to-hand combat until six, dinner, and you're done. Although if you're specializing you have more training until nine and the gym is open until midnight everyday for additional training," Clove says easily between spoonfuls of the fruity dessert the servers brought out a few minutes ago.
Jasper's father nods, showing no obvious sign of emotion, but Katniss catches a gleam of greed in his eyes and resists the urge to groan. Although spirited, Clove has no idea of how she's being manipulated.
Cato obviously feels the same way, for he rests a warning hand of Clove's elbow for a brief second. Clove shoots a questioning look at him, but to Katniss's frustration she doesn't seem to get what he's trying to convey.
She has to stop Clove before she spills any more information about their time. Katniss stands abruptly, her chair screeching against the hardwood floor as she wrenches it from its place.
The clinking pauses as surprised looks immediately pin her down. She flushes slightly but juts her chin forward, saying, "I'm going for a walk."
Jasper's father frowns, obviously displeased with the interruption.
"You can't go without accompaniment – who knows what unsavory characters might be lurking outside?" She bites down a laugh – his descendant will send her to her gruesome death at the hands of other children – what does he care?
"I'll go with Clove," she says. Cato inclines his chin slightly, showing that he understands her plan to get Clove away from the manipulations of this man. Unfortunately, Clove doesn't agree.
"No thanks, fire girl. I'd rather stay here, thank you very much," Clove says snidely. Katniss resists the urge to march over and punch her, taking a few deep breaths to grapple her temper down.
"No, Clove, I think you want to come out and get some fresh air with me," she says slowly. Come on, Clove, she wills, staring into Clove's dark eyes. Please, understand!
Nothing.
"I can accompany you," says a smooth voice. She stiffens; Jasper. He gazes at her expectantly, his face expressionless as he regards her. Shoot. She can't decline now, not when she's already expressed her interest in a walk. And it will look odd if she continues to ask for Clove – she can already see that Jasper's father is staring at her speculatively from the corner of her eye.
She curses silently before pasting a smile on her face.
"Sure, thanks," she says.
Jasper stands gracefully and offers his arm. She takes it hesitantly and catches Cato's closed off face from the corner of her eye as she leaves the room.
Great. She can only hope that Cato can keep Clove from saying anything too revealing.
….
"Can you really blame him?"
What? She blinks, tilting her head up to look at her companion. Jasper's startlingly amber eyes gaze down at her calmly.
"Think about it – faced with the possibility of knowing your future, wouldn't you try your best to learn as much as you could?" he asks. She frowns, her brow furrowing as she pictures his scenario.
"Of course I'd be curious, but I wouldn't manipulate a fifteen year old in order to get my way," she says hotly. He sighs but doesn't reply. They walk in silence for a few more minutes. Dappled sunlight shines through the pale green leaves of the trees lining the quiet cobblestone street and the smell of blooming flowers fills the air.
After a moment Jasper stiffens and he mutters, "Oh no," under his breath. She glances sharply at him before peering forward, catching a glimpse of sandy brown hair.
"Hello, Lucas," he says politely. Katniss takes in the young man in front of them, noting the way he stares unashamedly at her clothing (honestly, it can't be that odd to see a woman in pants) before dragging his eyes back to Jasper.
"Hello, Jasper. And who is this young…lady?" he asks, sneering a bit in Katniss's direction. She stiffens, her fingers balling into fists. Oh, how she wants to punch him.
"This is Ms. Katniss Everdeen," Jasper says smoothly. Lucas blinks before turning to her again.
"Oh, yes, Isabella did mention something about some queer woman who dressed scandalously," he says nastily before bowing mockingly.
She narrows her eyes; who does this man think he is?
"Katniss, this is Lucas Snow – no blood relation, of course, but he's taken our name as a future member of our family as per Capitol tradition," Jasper explains from beside her.
She's drifting, her mind scrambling to keep up with every burst of new information. Scrabbling at walls, trying desperately to stay sane. Falling, falling, a distant roar in her ears.
"Member of our family…?" she repeats faintly.
Lucas nods smugly, saying, "Isabella is my fiancé."
Author Note: Thanks so much for reading! Please review – all review responses contain a teaser of the next chapter! :) Sorry for the lack of teaser for the last chapter - I literally just finished writing this chapter a few minutes ago. I was plagued by the dreaded writer's block for the longest time and at this point I decided it would be better just to publish the entire chapter instead of making you guys wait any longer. Sorry for the wait! Reviews will definitely get a teaser response this time though :)