Chapter 14 already...I surprise myself sometimes... ;)

I know I always say this but I'm going to say it again anyway - thank you so much to those of you who commented on the last chapter :) Your reviews continue to amaze me!

Oh, and I almost forgot - Briarpaw, if you're reading, I couldn't send you a PM but in answer to your question; Gloss and Titus in the same Games isn't canon, it's just the product of my slightly twisted mind :P

Chapter Fourteen

It's midway through the afternoon when he finds her. It could almost have been accidental were it not for the way just enough snow to block the path always fell down the side of the nearest rocky slope when they went any way but towards each other. That tells me their meeting wasn't accidental, that the Gamemakers have done this on purpose because both they and the Capitol audience want to see what happens when the man from District Six who has already killed twice comes face to face with his district partner.

"Nothing will happen," says Fortune, sounding bored as we all watch the two tributes staring at each other across the clearing. "He won't kill her yet because if he does then the whole of District Six will hate him forever."

"I don't think he's exactly able to consider that right now," replies Falco, who seems to be the only one with the inclination or the self-control to answer Diamond's mentor civilly.

"That girl's going to die," says Ursala flatly from her position beside me. "Any second now."

I nod and race back to the District One station, realising that I haven't checked on Gloss for several minutes and hoping he's still sheltering in the cave he found. He is, and I watch him for a while, wondering if he will suffer because he left the group too soon and feeling more grateful than I can say that his cave is well away from the one commandeered by Titus.

"Marisa, come over here. We have to go before the Careers find us."

I look back up at the main screen in time to see the man from District Six take an almost tentative step towards the girl, who stares at him with eyes full of uncertainty. I get up and walk back over to the small group of mentors and escorts gathered together watching. Falco and Ursala move so I have room to stand between them, and my heart skips a beat when the girl steps towards Titus.

"He'll kill you," I whisper under my breath. "Don't be stupid. Don't go with him."

"She has to die, Cash," whispers Falco, telling me that I wasn't as quiet as I thought I was as he very deliberately shortens my name like my brother does as a way of bringing me crashing back to reality. "For Gloss."

"I know. But at the hand of her insane district partner? She doesn't deserve that."

"Dead is dead," says Ursala sharply. "What does it matter?"

I shrug my shoulders as the girl in the arena unknowingly takes a few more steps towards her death, for now remaining just out of reach.

"Come on," encourages Titus, and I can see virtually no hint of madness in his expression. "I heard them coming this way."

Now I know it's a trap. There isn't another tribute anywhere near them and the two who did see Titus are both dead.

"Those cannons that fired… the boy from Nine and the girls from Three and Seven…"

"It was them, Marisa. They did it all."

At that moment another mini-avalanche of snow falls and the girl visibly shivers as she looks around at it. When she turns back and the camera can see her face once more, I can tell instantly that she's made her decision.

We all watch in silence as she follows him back to the cave, and as they walk along they talk about District Six and about the other tributes, seeming almost like genuine allies. I can see why the girl trusts him as he's very convincing, and for the first time I start to consider that maybe he won't kill her straight away, that there is part of him that's still as sane as the rest of us. Then seconds later when they reach their destination, I know I was right the first time.

"Titus, what's this?" asks Marisa, leaning down to brush her fingers against the stone floor of the cave. She gasps when she stands upright again and sees them stained red. "It looks like…blood."

Titus raises his spear and stalks towards her, his face contorting with rage as the madness descends once more.

"Who are you? Did they send you?"

"Did who send me? Titus, it's me. It's Marisa. We came here together from District Six. Don't you remember?"

She frantically moves backwards, realising her mistake of going into the cave first when her back hits the wall and she sees him blocking her only route of escape.

"No you're not. They sent you. They think I don't know but I do. I always know."

He takes one more step towards her and draws his arm back before throwing his spear violently forward so it sinks into her chest with a thud that joins her screams to echo around the cave. He yanks the spear free and plunges it back into her, obviously hitting her heart this time because the next second her cannon fires and yet another tribute's photo fades to black on the far wall of the Control Room. Falco grasps my arm to steady me but I pull back, shaking my head and walking away.

"I have to check on Gloss," I say abruptly, returning to my chair and sitting down before I fall down.

I don't think I'll ever get used to the deaths. I don't think I'll ever be able to detach myself from what I'm witnessing like some of the other mentors seem to be able to do. But that doesn't matter. No matter what I'm feeling, I have to put it aside and focus on my brother. He's still there, shivering, tired and hungry in his tiny little cave. He's relying on me to help him. He needs me.

"No!" shrieks the middle-aged mentor from District Five, a chronically peeved-looking woman by the name of Viola, and I immediately jump up to see what caused such an uncharacteristic display of strong emotion. "That's against the rules. Surely that's against the rules. It must be."

I turn to look at Falco, who I figure is more likely to know the answer to that than anyone else, but he slowly shakes his head, refusing to look at the screen any more. I can't say that I blame him, because despite the many horrific sights I've witnessed in my lifetime, I'm unable to make myself look either.

"It's not allowed, is it?" I say quietly. "Surely they can't allow…cannibalism?" I continue, barely able to make myself say the word.

"Kill or be killed," interjects Mags dryly. "That's the only rule in The Hunger Games."

"But can't they send the hovercraft in?" persists a distinctly green-looking Viola.

"She's dead anyway so what's the point?" says Fortune, only to be silenced by the look Ursala immediately sends in his direction.

Then Viola speaks again and after that they all speak at the same time, talking over each other and trying to be the one who shouts the loudest as they attempt to make sense of what we are all witnessing. I don't know why they bother. This is the Hunger Games. It rarely makes sense.

I sigh and force myself not to look at the main screens, which are still resolutely showing Titus's cave, and try to focus on Gloss instead. It's obvious that he heard the cannon because when I get back to my computer he appears even more on edge than he did before, scanning the cave entrance with wide and frightened eyes in response to even the slightest of noises. My camera is currently zoomed in on his face, as if the Gamemakers know that is what will torture me the most, and he looks haunted in a way he never has before. I know he's thinking of Theodorus and I am too. It seems we're not the only ones, because it's Ursala's voice that interrupts my thoughts.

"He needs to snap out of that or he'll find himself on District Six's Kill List before he even comes close to being temporarily reunited with his allies."

"He'll fight when he has to," I reply firmly, hoping I'm right. "How come you're still here when you've been here all night? Isn't Tiberius going to take his turns anymore? Not that I'm in a rush to see him when I'm sure he'll want to kill me even more now, but…"

"He had something he had to do," she replies. "He'll be back to watch Meg for me soon. And he won't hate you or your brother for Theodorus. The boy caused his own death through arrogance and stupidity, any fool can see that. Tiberius came here as his mentor but he only ever had one tribute. He'll always hate you because you killed Dahlia, but Theodorus was nothing to him. You don't have to fear for Gloss because of him."

As soon as she finishes speaking she gets up and walks away without even a backward glance. When I look towards the main door, I realise she was right when Tiberius steps past her and replaces her at the District Two station. He pauses, presumably to check on Megaera, before turning his attention to the main screen, but I don't do the same. I don't care about District Six at the moment. All I care about is Gloss.

I reach out to touch his image on the screen, giving in to my weakness for a short time because I know everyone is distracted by Titus. I wish I could talk to him, to find words of comfort and help him deal with what happened. If I was with him then we'd be alright. We can cope with anything when we're together, but when we're separated like this, when I have to watch from afar as he fights for his life, it's worse than being in the arena myself ever was.

Realising that as I stare at the red letters under Gloss's photo which spell out Theodorus's name is what makes my mind up for me. We have to think of something. We have to do something. I have to get my brother out of there before the arena possesses him so completely that the Gloss I know will never be able to return to me.

"Falco!"

He looks across at me and is by my side in an instant.

"Don't worry," he says soothingly. "District Six couldn't defeat Gloss even if they did meet."

"Madness can make you strong," I reply, finally voicing the fears I've kept inside me since Titus made his first kill. "Do you remember Magnificence Goldsmith?" He nods. "I suppose you know the truth about what happened to her?" He nods again, just as I knew he would. Nobody who's anybody believes she died following a short battle with illness, which was the story the Capitol used to cover up the considerably more horrific reality. "Then you'll know I speak the truth."

"Gloss won't lose a fight to District Six," he repeats, taking my arm and leading me to the corner of the room furthest from the other mentors.

"We have to end this. We have to get him out of there."

"Only your brother can do that."

"There must be something we can do."

"I know this isn't what you want to hear but sometimes all you can do is wait. I discovered that for myself last year."

I find out just how true Falco's words were over the next couple of days, as I quickly discover that most of the time all I can do is sit here and wait. Sometimes I sit in my chair and other times I pace around and around the Control Room, watching as Gloss hides out in his cave, getting colder and looking more defeated with every hour that passes. He only emerges to gaze up at the sky for the nightly death recaps and is surviving on what food I manage to send him.

By the evening of the second day since Titus killed his district partner, I start to worry about the lack of activity in the arena, knowing that it's only a matter of time before the Gamemakers decide to do something about it. They don't disappoint me for long, and when the sun sets upon my brother's former allies as they make their way down the path towards the caves, a massive avalanche of snow cascades down upon them and their shocked cries fill the room. I feel nothing but relief to see the latest plan to entertain the viewers didn't involve Gloss.

There are no fatalities, which is no surprise to anyone, but there is enough snow to block the path completely, and I soon notice that because she rushed ahead, Diamond is on one side and Megaera, Pelagia and Nicon are on the other. I look across the desk even though I already know Fortune isn't there.

"District One?" shouts Megaera. "Can you get back?"

"No! The path is blocked! I can't get around!"

"Stop shouting," I growl at the screen even though I know she can't hear me and I'm not supposed to care what happens to her anyway. "You're alone now. Stop shouting."

"You're on your own then!" calls Pelagia as Megaera pushes her back the way they came. "We can't wait for you to go around or we'll all freeze to death!"

"Pelagia! Pelagia, don't go!" shouts the girl who, until Gloss made it to the stage first at least, was always meant to be my responsibility. "Megaera!"

I stare at the main screen for long enough to see her allies turn and walk back the way they came, noticing that only the girl from District Four looks back, before I drop my eyes down to my hands. Diamond can't see them walking away. She keeps shouting. Over and over again she calls for them, telling every other tribute left in the arena exactly where she is. I might not know much about being a mentor, but I know more than most about being a tribute, and that means I know she is doing one of the most foolish things imaginable, especially when she isn't prepared to be out there alone without her allies.

Shaking my head, I reach forward to grasp the control panel once more, making all of the charts and tables appear around the main picture. Despite his recent inactivity, Gloss still has a lot of sponsorship money. He has considerably more than Diamond, but she has something, just enough for what she needs.

I scan the list of gifts to find what I'm looking for, a basic survival pack containing enough food to last a couple of days, a bottle of fresh water, matches to light a fire and a simple first aid kit, but then I fall still. My eyes flick back and forth from the picture of the pack to that of Diamond Ferrers, the girl I should have mentored, the girl who I passed over for my brother so she was left with nobody to help her. I can't do this. I can't help her. I can't send her something that will help her live when she has to die. If only she wasn't so close to District Six's cave. If only she would stop calling out for the allies who will never return for her.

I take a deep breath and let the control panel go, pushing my chair back as I get to my feet. I start to walk across the room, intending to go as far as the door to see if I can see Falco returning from his latest search for sponsors, but before I know it I'm back at the computer again. My hand seems to move of its own accord as I find the pack again and drag it over to Diamond's picture, letting it go before I can change my mind. She's nowhere near Gloss at the moment. I can't just sit here and wait for District Six to find her and do to her what he did to his district partner.

I stand up again, watching as the silver parachute floats down to land at her feet. She gazes at it for several minutes, and all I can think is that at least she's finally silent, but then she picks it up and looks inside. She isn't stupid and it has the desired effect. She knows her allies have abandoned her. She knows from it's contents that she's on her own.

"Thanks, Fortune," she says. "It's about time you did something for me."

I look away, part of me feeling pleased she thought he'd sent it. As I stride towards the glass doors, my eyes find Tiberius's and he smirks.

"You'll regret that if she lives."

"Yes," I reply simply. "I will."

I get as far as the second set of glass doors and look out at the tree lined path I know leads back to the Training Centre, however after establishing that Falco is nowhere to be seen, I swiftly turn my back on the night sky, refusing to look for stars like I usually do because I know Gloss isn't anywhere where he can do the same. The warm evening air that drifts inside feels nice on my skin, and the sensation suddenly makes me recall that it's been ten days since Falco and I raced to get here before the start of the Games and that I haven't left the Control Room since.

I want nothing more than to go outside but I don't. I decided before the starting gong even sounded that I would stay here and watch over my brother until he returns to me and I'm determined to push aside my own fears and memories so I keep my promise. That's the way it has to be and that's the way it will be. It doesn't matter what I think I want when I know deep down inside that nothing would ever matter again if Gloss didn't live.

With that thought in mind, I almost run back to the District One station and sit staring at Gloss as he sleeps, listening and watching for him now he has finally given into the exhaustion he has been trying to fight ever since he killed Theodorus.

"All alone for once?"

"It looks that way, yes. Unless I'm surrounded by invisible people," I reply sarcastically, refusing to drop my guard in front of someone like Tiberius, even if, for once, he doesn't look the slightest bit interested in attacking me.

"Where's Hazelwell?"

"How would I know? I'm not his keeper," I reply, trying desperately to stop myself from smiling at what I suppose could be called the inaccuracy of that statement. "Why?"

"He's more likely to know what's really going on than anyone else. There's been some talk about something being done about the way District Six insists upon eating his victims when he's killed them," he says casually, telling it like it is as usual and refusing to talk around even a subject as taboo as this.

"Who said that?"

"'Sala. I've no idea where she got it from though."

I nod but say nothing, remembering the gilded invitation that was brought to her yesterday and having my suspicions. Then as I think that I realise I haven't seen her since then. I could laugh at myself when I notice I feel vaguely anxious for her. We can't be friends. District One and District Two when her tribute is still alive and one of her opponents is my brother. It's ridiculous, I know that, but that doesn't stop me from asking my question anyway.

"Where is she?"

"She had an offer she couldn't refuse," he replies dryly, and something about his tone tells me he knows exactly what he's talking about. I stare up into his unreadable dark eyes, allowing myself to briefly wonder what Snow could possibly have to hold over him.

"But where is she now?" I persist.

"Over there," he says, nodding in the direction of the main doorway as Ursala walks through it towards us.

"Did you miss me?" she asks Tiberius, leaning across him to check the computer screen.

"Why would I possibly?" he growls, pushing her roughly out of the way.

I have to look back to my own computer then, so they don't see the expression on my face. I could smile to see the concern in his eyes that he almost succeeds in hiding as he looks her up and down as if checking she's still in one piece, but I could cry to see how she flinches away even from his impersonal and almost violent touch, knowing there's a reason for that which I understand all too well. She looks up, and when her eyes meet mine I find her emotions easy to read because they mirror my own. She doesn't want me to say anything, she doesn't want sympathetic looks, she just wants to block it out and carry on because it's the only choice she has.

"Look," interrupts Viola from District Five, pointing at a large television in the corner of the room.

I follow the direction she indicates and see that it isn't showing a live broadcast of events in the arena like the rest. Initially all I can see is Caesar Flickerman, still orange like he was at the interviews, but then the camera pans out to show what looks like a live studio audience. So this is what he does when the interviews are over.

"Good evening Panem!" he calls. The crowd all cheer. "Thank you for joining me on this very exciting tenth day of the Sixty-seventh Annual Hunger Games!"

When I hear another cheer even louder than the first, I check Gloss is still in his cave and far from the other remaining tributes and then cross the room so I can hear what Caesar is saying. Viola and Fortune are already there, as is Beetee, despite the fact both of District Three's cannons have fired this year. Tiberius and Ursala follow close behind me, and then even Mags hobbles after us. It seems that everyone with a tribute still left in the arena cares about what the Gamemakers are going to do about Titus. That is everyone except his own mentor, who is currently slumped in his chair in what looks like a drug-induced stupor.

There is a different man on screen now, one I vaguely recognise but can't place, and he seems to be talking the audience through the story of the Games so far. I don't know why he thinks he needs to bother because I find it almost impossible to believe there is a single person in the Capitol who hasn't been glued to their television since it all began.

I am just starting to lose focus as I think about what I should do next and what will help Gloss the most, when I notice writing flashing up on the bottom of the screen. When I look closer I see they are comments which have apparently been sent in by viewers. 'That boy from District Six must be stopped', says one of them, 'Megaera will be the one to end Titus's reign of terror', says another, and then 'District Six cannot be crowned. De Montfort winning streak must go on' follows it. My heart skips a beat whenever Gloss is mentioned as the words change every few seconds, and that happens with great frequency, proving that they haven't forgotten him. I feel vaguely positive for the first time in days as I am reminded how there are a lot of people out there who want him to win. Part of me dreads to think why, but the rest of me doesn't care. All I care about is Gloss winning the Games and coming back to me.

"They can't let it continue," starts Viola again, interrupting my thoughts and obviously feeling intent on repeating the speech she has already subjected us to at least three times today.

I turn away, intending to return to my monitoring station to send Gloss something to eat, but then Ursala calls me back.

"Cashmere, look."

I return my gaze to the television just in time to see Caesar gesture widely with his arm as the camera moves across to reveal his latest guest. It's Falco.

"What-" I start, before swiftly cutting myself off as I realise I shouldn't allow my shock to show in the company of my fellow mentors and especially not in a place as dangerous as this.

The safest thing for me to do would be to walk away, to go back to my computer and not look at this television again, but my feet seem rooted to the floor. Even when I try to move away from Ursala and Mags, I somehow remain in place, hardly daring to breathe.

Falco is almost unrecognisable from the man who has held me in his arms so many times, the man who tells me he loves me and promises to protect me whether I think I need him to or not. Right now he is not the man I love, he is the government minister from the Capitol, and he leans casually back in his chair as if he owns the stage.

"So," begins Caesar with the beaming smile of a presenter who knows his viewing figures just soared through the roof, "everyone's talking about the events in the arena this year and I'm sure you know more than most. Is the public outrage the papers describe really as widespread as the reporters would have us believe? Will the Gamemakers do anything about the issue that is causing the most controversy?"

"From what I've heard, the consensus is that these…matters cannot continue as they are. And I'm sure you will agree that the views of the people of this city are of utmost importance. I have no doubt the Gamemakers will do what they think is best and that there will be a resolution which takes those views into careful consideration."

I shudder in response to the slightly exaggerated accent he speaks with, hating how unlike the Falco I know this on-screen version is. Ursala turns to look at me and I quickly look the other way, wondering exactly how much Astraea revealed to her of our previous conversation. There's something about her expression that tells me she knows more than I would like her to, but she says nothing.

The interview goes on and on as Caesar asks Falco for his views on every issue which is currently at all contentious in the city whether it's related to the arena or not, perhaps deciding that as such appearances are so rare, he's going to get in every question he possibly can. When talk turns to how people are calling for broadcasting of this Games to be edited at certain times of day, Ursala leans close to me and whispers into my ear.

"So they don't care if there's a tribute eating the rest as long as their children don't have to watch it? Now that's what I call ironic."

"Something like that," I reply, leaning as close to her as she did to me and earning us a very suspicious look from Mags.

I shrug my shoulders and refocus on the screen in time to see Falco make one final comment about how he still believes a tribute from the district he escorts will wear the crown before rising to his feet and leaving the stage to rapturous applause. When I see him like this, I begin to understand how he could get away with doing what he did to the second man who bought me from the president. Seeing him like this reminds me how virtually untouchable he is, and I'm grateful for that even though I wish he was by my side.

"They'll do something about it if people like him are protesting," says Fortune, nodding at the television.

"Will they really?" I ask, looking more at Mags and Ursala than at my district counterpart as I try to stop myself from thinking about the unthinkable possibility of Titus and Gloss meeting.

"Of course," says Viola. "Falco Hazelwell is one of the most powerful and influential men in Panem and he isn't the only one who's voiced his opinion on this shameful episode."

I say nothing in reply and let the words of Viola and the other remaining mentors drift over me as they talk about Caesar and his interviews. All of them, even Ursala, seem to talk about Falco with some level of awe, and as I make my way back to my chair, I am surprised by the emotion I feel. Probably for the first time since before my own reaping, I feel something I could compare with my old arrogance and smugness at the thought that he gave me the bracelet that still hangs from my left wrist.

Then I mentally tell myself to stop being so stupid. Gloss is in the arena. I don't have time for such frivolous thoughts.

He pushes the door open and everyone who remained here falls silent and turns to stare at him. He walks across the room towards me and their eyes follow him. He sits down in Fortune's chair and still they don't look away. I wish they would but they don't.

"Has anything happened in the arena?" asks Falco, obviously well aware that there are at least three people hanging on our every word and that's before we even begin to consider the others who are surely listening in using the hidden cameras I know fill this room.

"No. Gloss is awake but he hasn't gone anywhere yet. Diamond's still wandering around the caves closer to the Cornucopia."

He nods and discreetly scans the room, smiling slightly when we both realise people are no longer watching us as closely. Then he abruptly rises to his feet, spinning my chair around as he does and gesturing towards the door, all but pushing me ahead of him once I stand up too. I let him, pointing at a couple of the screens as I go so the other mentors will think we're arguing about the arena and don't want to create a scene. He doesn't allow me to stop until we're standing under a massive tree just outside the Control Room building, and I stand there drinking in the fresh air I haven't experienced for far too long, waiting for him to speak first.

"Did you-"

"Yes, Falco, I did. You could have told me you were going to appear on the Flickerman Show."

"I did it to help Gloss," he replies before leaning close to me and dropping his voice to a whisper as he continues. "It'll help him if the Gamemakers take out District Six, and if I publicly support the idea..."

"Do you seriously think they would do that when he's being so…entertaining?" I whisper back.

"I meant what I said in that interview, Butterfly. There are a lot of influential people out there who don't like switching on their televisions and having to watch that. And besides, every cannon that fires is one less before that boy ends up winning the Games. Can you see anyone in the Capitol wanting a Victor who's insane before he even leaves the arena?"

I don't know what to say to that because I immediately see how his words make sense. I don't know why I didn't think about it like that before and from the expression on his face as he looks down at me, it's obvious he knows what I'm thinking.

"I don't like seeing you like that," I confess, my eyes never leaving his as I try to reassure myself that the Capitol-version of him has long gone.

"'That' is what I am," he replies softly but firmly. "I don't always like it, but if I wasn't that man then I would be powerless and that would be worse."

I smile and duck my head, suddenly feeling ashamed when I think about how he accepts everything I am and was forced to be. The least I can do is the same for him.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, wishing we were somewhere else so I could reach out and touch him.

"Don't be," he says. "Just do one thing for me."

"What's that?"

"Go upstairs and get some rest," he replies, nodding in the direction of the Training Centre. "Only for a couple of hours."

"Falco, I can't. I can't leave him on his own. I just can't. I'll sleep if you want me to but it'll be in the Control Room."

"Come on then," he says resignedly, holding out his arm to me so I can grasp his elbow.

He escorts me back inside like he's leading me into a ballroom, and I'm suddenly reminded of the time before my Games when he took me out of the Training Centre to the party at the house that had been his father's. He had pulled me slightly closer to him than would be considered proper then and he does the same now. I feel warm for the first time since Gloss went into the arena because of it and I'm sorry when we reach our part of the Control Room and he guides me into my chair.

When I wake up, the first person I see is someone I shouldn't be seeing at all in somewhere that's closed to all but Gamemakers, mentors and Capitol escorts. Narissa is hovering in the doorway, gazing up at the big screens with something that would look like awe on a less composed person, and she obviously senses my disapproval because the next thing I know, her green eyes are staring directly back at me. She smirks and puts a black lace gloved hand on her hip in silent challenge.

"She isn't allowed in here," I whisper, staring over the top of the computer at the Capitolian woman.

Falco looks up and immediately follows the direction of my gaze, rolling his eyes amusedly when he sees his friend. I turn back just in time to see her beckon casually to him and then slink out of my sight back the way she came. I scowl when Falco gets up and leaves, following him after one last look at Gloss, reassuring myself that he is still sitting by the fire and all is as quiet as it can ever be in the arena. It's not like I'm going far anyway. If they've left the Control Room then I won't follow. Whatever they're up to, it isn't worth risking my brother's life to find out.

"What are you doing in here? If the Peacekeepers see you…"

"How do you think I got in here in the first place?" says Narissa, her sly smile somehow evident from her voice alone.

"One day, Narissa Redsparrow, your looks and your…charm won't get you what you want," replies Falco.

"Really? And when will that be? I can't see it being any time soon."

"I'll ask you again, what are you doing here? Or is this just another one of your games?"

"I knew you'd be here watching the arena and nothing else. I had to show you something."

"What? And you can come out, Butterfly, I know you're there."

I quickly decide there's no point denying it and trying to creep back to the main Control Room, so I push myself off the wall I was leaning against and stroll as casually as I can through the doorway. I find I'm in a lounge I haven't seen before and didn't know about. There's nobody else here.

"You didn't tell me about this place," I say accusingly to Falco, resolutely ignoring Narissa.

"There didn't seem much point when I already know you won't leave the Control Room unless you absolutely have to," he says, his soft smile taking the harshness from his words.

"At least you escort District One and not Twelve," interrupts Narissa. "At least she bothers to wash and to change her clothes every day."

"You're not helping, 'Rissa," replies Falco calmly.

I suddenly want nothing more than to test exactly how out of condition I am by experimenting on the petite Capitolian woman's far too perfect face, and I can tell by her expression that she knows it.

"I am helping," she says, looking straight at Falco. "I'm here to tell you I was right. And I thought your little princess would want to see too. Look who's on screen."

I focus on the massive television that takes up most of the room and am shocked to see my sister's face staring back at me. Virtually the entire population of my district knows we've never got on as we've never really bothered to keep it a secret, but as I watch her, sitting there in a deep purple Capitol-made dress and looking distinctly like she's had a run in with Drusilla, Charis and Callista, I suddenly feel something I'd almost call pride. She still has the same determination in her eyes that she always had when she was about to go running to Father to report the latest bit of misbehaviour committed by Sapphire or myself, but this time it's all directed at the cameras as she asks the people of the Capitol to fight for Gloss while he's in the arena.

"Remember Cashmere," she says, and I jump at the mention of my name. "Remember your champion from last year and help her bring our brother home."

I keep staring at her as she falls silent and whoever is interviewing her starts to speak again. She ducks her head and closes her eyes, perhaps not realising the cameras are still rolling, and when she looks up again she looks more worn out than ever, worse than she did before Gloss's reaping. If it wasn't for that look in her eyes then I would almost think she's at breaking point. I suddenly can't see how I didn't notice before.

"What's my sister to you?" I ask abruptly.

"Absolutely nothing," replies Narissa lightly, her voice a complete contrast to her uncharacteristically fierce expression, which tells me in no uncertain terms that I shouldn't say anything further, especially in a place like this. "I've just taken a fancy to your pretty little brother and she's doing a very good job of helping his cause, that's all."

"Stay away from my brother," I snarl, narrowing my eyes at her immediately as I realise what she might be implying with her words.

She laughs lightly, strolling out of the room with a flick of her immaculate hair and an almost casual sway of her hips when she walks. I grit my teeth and say nothing but I don't fool Falco.

"Antagonising you amuses her," he says. "She doesn't mean anything serious by it."

"Falco, exactly how rich is she?"

"Very," is his only response, said in a vaguely tentative tone that tells me he knows the precise direction my thoughts are going in and also that his reply isn't the one I want to hear.

"Why are they interviewing Satin?" I ask, deciding that I can't afford to dwell on the possible motives of Narissa Redsparrow and quickly changing the subject.

"They always interview relatives and friends of the final eight, you know that."

"I do, but I'd forgotten. And it isn't the final eight, it's the final seven," I tell him, sounding a lot more tetchy than I intended.

He continues to see right through me and doesn't react to my bad-temperedness. "She won't do it, you know," he says. "She thinks too much of herself for that."

I raise my eyebrows disbelievingly, thinking that Narissa would probably do a deal with President Snow for my brother just to anger me. Then I realise I shouldn't be thinking like that. There are still six other tributes in the arena and four of them are trained as well as or better than Gloss is. Not to mention that one of the remaining two is insane and has a longer kill list than any of my brother's former allies. I have to think about the present and take one day at a time. That is the only way I'm going to bring him home.