Chapter Fourteen
Almost as soon as I tell Gloss we're home, we're no longer alone and instead are surrounded by Capitol attendants. One of them throws the doors of the train carriage open, performing what has become Falco's usual role in his absence after he had to remain behind on government business.
Given what happened at the end of the Games, I wasn't at all surprised, but I'm disappointed all the same. I wanted him here with me, not in the Capitol trying to decide how best to handle the supposed rebellion of some child from the coal district. But then I always want him with me, and that hasn't changed since I went into my own arena. I should be used to his absence but it seems to get harder rather than easier as time passes.
In most of the districts, the mentors of the losing tributes accompany the simple wooden coffins home in hovercrafts, but as District One is so close to the big city we have always kept to the train. I can't say I'm disappointed. I hate hovercrafts. They remind me of going into the arena because that's the first and only time I've ever had the misfortune of travelling in one.
As I climb down onto the station platform I turn to see the white uniformed Avoxes lowering Glimmer and Marvel down. Three young men who bear more than a passing resemblance to the boy Katniss killed in the arena and another who is much older rush forward to lift the coffin on the left up onto their shoulders, but nobody does the same for the one on the right. It seems I've finally found an area in which Marvel was more fortunate than Glimmer: Family.
I know I should move, but instead I watch as two women step forwards in the direction of the second coffin. One is middle-aged and what I would call average looking, for my district at least, and the other is much younger, only a few years older than Glimmer. When she turns briefly in my direction I instantly notice her vivid green eyes and then I realise who they are.
On closer inspection there is enough resemblance between the younger woman and Glimmer for me to tell they are sisters. However it's also immediately apparent that only one sister inherited all of the genes for beauty and it wasn't the one standing opposite me on the platform. This girl isn't unattractive but she isn't beautiful. She isn't like her sister was.
Gloss looks at me and I look at him, but he doesn't seem to know what to do any more than I do. This is where I have to say something, I know that, but the words won't come. What can I possibly say?
"They can't leave her there," says Gloss from his position by my side when the two women start to move backwards, making no move to have Glimmer taken away. They seem to be paying more attention to the small crowd gathered on the platform than they do to their daughter, and while I'd always thought Glimmer exaggerated about the indifference of her relations, now I've seen them in the flesh, I'm nowhere near as sure.
I reach for Gloss's arm but he ignores me and starts to walk towards them, giving me no choice but to follow. Glimmer's mother and sister stop to look at us when we get closer, and the first thing I notice is that both of them have dry eyes. The sister looks curiously at Gloss but the older woman's gaze is directed firmly at me.
"I'm sorry we couldn't save her," I say, trying not to look at the firmly closed lid of Glimmer's coffin, which still only serves to remind me of the end she had.
"There was nothing you could have done," says her mother, smiling sadly back at me. I don't know whether to be relieved to finally see some emotion or disgusted that she lost her daughter and still can't bring herself to show her grief in public.
"She should have moved faster," says the sister, and I instinctively tighten my grip on Gloss's wrist, knowing her words will only inflame him further.
"Would you have moved faster?" he snaps, making me immediately step between them.
"I had more important things to think about than being a tribute," she replies, glancing contemptuously at the coffin before turning away.
"Like supporting the amazingly successful Goldsmith dynasty?" retorts Gloss sarcastically, his anger making him revert to the ingrained District One tradition of insulting the family name first and the actual person second.
The young woman spins back around, her straight hair flying around as it blows in the wind. It's considerably darker than her sister's was and doesn't catch the light in the same way. However before she can say anything her mother interrupts, looking nervously at the crowd of onlookers, who are clearly speculating about the reason why we're still here.
"Shimmer, please," she says anxiously. "We need to go."
I have to fight back the urge to ask the woman what in Panem possessed her to give her daughters rhyming names, but when I glance at Gloss, expecting to see my own amusement reflected in his eyes, I suddenly remember that he probably already knew. For the first time I consider speaking to him about Glimmer and what happened to her, but then I immediately think better of it. Not here. Not now. Perhaps not ever.
"I can't exactly carry her, can I?" retorts Shimmer, sounding like a spoiled child rather than a grown woman.
"I'll carry her," says Gloss, stepping forwards before I can stop him and sending the few reporters who chose to be here rather than in the coal district into a flurry of excitement.
I move forwards myself, doing the only thing I can think of to try and stop them from taking Gloss's reaction as confirmation that he and Glimmer were a lot more than he's always maintained they were. It isn't usual for a tribute's mentors to carry their coffin from the station but I don't know what else to do. There's nothing else I can do, although how we're going to manage alone, I have no idea.
"I will help," says another familiar voice as someone moves to stand behind me. I've never been more pleased to see Miracle Lancaster in all my life.
"I think this is above and beyond the call of duty," says Satin, whispering into my ear as she also appears by my side.
"Lady Mayoress," I reply, inclining my head enough to be gently mocking before turning my attention back to Glimmer and becoming deadly serious once again.
Nobody speaks after that, and we force ourselves to ignore the considerable number of people who follow us or stop what they're doing to stare. Glimmer Goldsmith was a girl from a family of little to no consequence, and yet she is now the first tribute in the history of the Hunger Games to have her coffin carried to the cemetery by the mayoress, her husband and two Victors rather than by her own relatives. No wonder those we pass are all staring.
Once we reach our final destination, which turns out to be the poorer side of the cemetery rather than the side where my own family's vault lies, there are people waiting to take Glimmer from us and lower her into her final resting place. We wait while the official presides over what can surely only laughingly be referred to as a funeral, standing on the opposite side of the grave to Glimmer's mother, sister and the small number of other people who have accompanied them. I remain glued to Gloss's side and I notice that Satin does the same. Despite how she can't possibly know what happened in the Capitol, it seems I'm not the only one who senses how volatile the situation is.
The first sign I get that something has changed is when Gloss tenses beside me. I look up to see a tall, imposing-looking blond man striding towards us, and watch as he stops a short distance away to stare down at the simple gravestone that marks the place where we've just buried his daughter. For surely this must be Glimmer's father. The resemblance between them is remarkable and it's suddenly very obvious where her looks came from.
"I'm sorry for your loss," I venture, deciding to test whether or not what Gloss has told me of the man is true.
"Life goes on," he replies eventually, his tone more indifferent than cold. "As I'm sure you and your family know better than most."
He looks down at Glimmer's grave one more time before walking to the other side to stand beside his family. He whispers something I can't hear to Shimmer and she smiles slightly, her sister outwardly forgotten already. It's only when I instinctively look away in what feels something like disgust that I see Miracle is now standing in Satin's place and that he's all that's restraining Gloss's uncontrollable grief and rage.
"Come on, Gloss," I say, deliberately positioning myself so I block his view of Glimmer's seemingly unconcerned family. "It's well past time we left."
He doesn't say anything but his eyes meet mine and I sigh with relief. I'm not too late this time. It isn't going to be a repeat of what happened in the Control Room even if his expression mirrored the one I saw that day. At least it seems to still be true that it's easier for him to hold onto himself when he's back home.
"I think it's well past time we all left," replies Satin, sparing a contemptuous glance for Glimmer's father before taking the hand Miracle offers her and heading home, leaving Gloss and I to follow behind.
"We can go home now," I tell Gloss, linking my arm with his. "There's nothing to stop you from coming back when they've gone."
He smiles and lets me lead him away, appearing calmer than I could ever have hoped for. I can't wait to get home and I have to stop myself from running once we leave the cemetery behind.
When we got home everything was exactly as we'd left it, right down to the clothes I'd left scattered across the table when I was trying to decide what to wear. We sat and talked for hours but Gloss didn't talk about Glimmer or her family so I didn't dare mention anything. Instead I talked about Satin and how different she somehow seems, and I'm not surprised when he agrees with me. She's still Satin but she's more intense than she was, and she has a small frown on her face when she thinks nobody's looking, almost like she's thinking of something nobody else understands.
A short time later the television came on automatically to show yet another replay of Katniss and Peeta's interview, which made Gloss growl and leave the room immediately. I followed him to the kitchen but he wasn't the same after he'd seen the pair from Twelve, he wasn't as relaxed. Soon after that we both decided to go to bed.
Before we left the Capitol I imagined it would be Gloss struggling to combat his nightmares, but as it turns out, I'm the one who can't stay asleep. To start with I'm back in the arena again, but instead of it being Dahlia I'm fighting, it's Katniss Everdeen instead. We fight and fight for hours with what seems like thousands of people watching us, but when I finally succeed in defeating her, the crowd turns on me and then I'm racing along countless narrow corridors while they all chase after me.
Then suddenly I reach a point where I can go no further and I find President Snow waiting for me. Behind him stands Gloss and when I turn around I see Glimmer beside me. 'Choose', says Snow to Gloss, looking from me to Glimmer with his vile snake's eyes, and when my brother screams out that he can't, I wake to find myself sitting up in bed with the covers twisted so tightly around me that I can't move.
Eventually I acknowledge that I'm too scared of my nightmares to try and go back to sleep, and so I disentangle myself and walk down the corridor towards the kitchen. However when I get half way there I realise I'm outside Gloss's room and stop outside the door, feeling strangely reminded of how I used to often do the same thing when I was a little girl.
I silently push the door open just enough for me to peer inside, and I quickly realise that the only reason Gloss's nightmares weren't troubling him was because he wasn't asleep. I don't think I made a sound but he senses I'm there anyway, and when he pulls the blanket back I walk over to the bed and crawl in beside him.
He says nothing, and I don't know how much time passes with us simply lying side by side and staring up at the ceiling. The moon is bright tonight and it lights up the room enough for me to follow the patterns in the carved beams. It gives me something to concentrate on besides the memories of my nightmares but it also distracts me so I jump when Gloss finally speaks.
"They didn't care about her at all, did they?"
"Maybe they did in their own way," I reply. I'd been expecting this, although I had thought it would take a little longer for him to open up.
"They didn't, Cash," he whispers. "You saw what they were like. They'd have left her alone on the station platform."
"But she had you," I whisper back, turning to face him even though he continues to look resolutely upwards. "So she wasn't alone. And wherever she is now, she doesn't need her family anyway."
He shrugs his shoulders slightly but then turns around so he can put his arms around me.
"It was never supposed to be like this," he breathes, his voice barely audible. "When we were growing up, we never imagined this."
I don't know what to say so I hug him tighter instead, hoping that will be enough. What can I say when his words are the truth? The life we dreamed of before Sapphire left couldn't have been more different to the reality we have now, but that doesn't mean we can change what happened. When I think of Falco part of me doesn't want to change what happened, and thinking of him makes me think of rebellion, which is something I can dream of in a totally different way.
Maybe Katniss Everdeen has started something and maybe she hasn't. But it doesn't matter really because we don't need a girl like that when we have a plan that's been in the making for decades. All that matters is that we do something, and that is a feeling I can't change when I see Gloss like this. Panem has to change before he breaks, and I'll do anything in my power to keep him together.
The next morning I wake up and Gloss isn't there. It's not until I go downstairs to the kitchen that I find his note saying he's gone for a walk, and by the time I do, I'm far too tense and worried to go back to sleep. I try to think of somewhere I can go where I won't have the eyes and ears of the Capitol on me, at least not in any obvious way, and I end up heading for the workshop. I want to see Satin anyway, and most of the regular Capitolians are so intimidated by my sister that there are few better places to hide in District One than her domain.
Before long I'm walking down the familiar corridor, down towards the office that my sister has made her own. I still half expect to see my father calling me inside, polite and even friendly when others can see him despite how we both knew better. I can't remember an occasion where he was friendly towards me behind closed doors where we no longer had an audience. However my father isn't there, as he hasn't been for many years. This is Satin's place now.
All I can hear is the low murmur of people talking as they work in the massive factory that's on the other side of the wall and the noise my heels make as they hit the stone floor. It's somehow warmer here than it was when Father was alive. Being here doesn't fill me with as much dread as it always used to and I almost find myself relaxing, at least compared to the never ceasing tension I feel in the Capitol anyway.
Then I spin around in response to the sudden weight on my back, yanking the dagger from the strap that keeps it in place on my arm and holding it to the throat of my attacker at the same time as slamming them back against the wall. All I can see is the arena, and it's not until the tiny, frightened voice penetrates through the haze of my memories that I realise what I've done.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, dropping the dagger to the ground with an echoing clatter. "I'm so, so sorry."
I lower a very shaky-looking Victory back to the floor and the little girl stumbles into me, wrapping her arms around my legs to keep herself upright. She stares up at me with wide eyes that look as terrified as her voice sounded and all I can do is stare back, trembling as much as she is at the thought of what could have happened.
Eventually I move to step away, half expecting her to run for Satin, but instead she clings to me, pulling herself up until I give in and lift her off the floor. She's heavier than I thought she'd be. Gloss always makes lifting her look so totally effortless but I can't say the same.
I soon find myself wishing I'd left her on the ground for a different reason though, because when her face is next to mine it's suddenly a lot harder to avoid looking into her eyes. She looks so like her mother that it's scary, but her eyes are her father's, and I notice it more than ever now.
"Victory, I…"
"Why did you do that, Aunt Cashmere?" she says tremulously. "I jump out at Daddy like that all the time but he laughs."
"Because…" I begin awkwardly, wishing Gloss was here because he's so much better at saying things to her in a way she'll understand. "Because… Do you remember what your mother told you about how I went to the Capitol to play a game?"
"It was before I was born," she replies, virtually all hints of the tears she never quite shed disappearing as her expression abruptly becomes one of serious concentration. She looks more and more like Satin with every day that passes by. "Uncle Gloss went too. And Aunt Sapphire," she adds, stumbling over the name slightly. "But she didn't come home."
It takes me a minute to collect my thoughts again when she says that. From the very day of her daughter's birth, Satin has been determined to keep her from the horrors of the Games until she's old enough to understand. She's closed doors, covered televisions and shielded Victory's eyes and ears for as long as I remember, and this reaping was the first the little girl has ever attended. Satin didn't let her out of sight for a single second.
All this considered, I certainly don't want to be the one to have to explain the truth. Not that I think she'd truly understand anyway. I was at least six or seven before I could comprehend what happened to the two people who left the district to go to the Capitol every year and I was a lot less sheltered than Victory has been. However what shocks me more than anything is that Satin would tell her about Sapphire. I hadn't expected that, but it seems my sister has surprised me again. She's been doing that a lot over the past few years.
"It was a long time ago but the game was really scary. I still remember it and it makes me frightened."
"Did people jump out at you when you played the game?" she asks, looking innocently up at me with Miracle's eyes.
"Sort of," I reply, not knowing what else to say to this little girl whose biggest fears are still the imaginary monsters hiding under her bed.
"Daddy says 'Don't jump out at Aunt Cashmere', but…"
"You did it anyway?" I say, smiling slightly when she laughs. "You're just like your mother."
"That's what she says when she's happy with me. When I'm being bad, she says I'm just like Daddy."
"Where's your mother, Victory?" I ask, starting to walk down the corridor again with her still in my arms.
"Her office. Shouting at Daddy."
I walk a bit quicker and when I turn the final corner in the corridor I hear the sound of raised voices. Or should I say 'voice', because it's mostly Satin doing the shouting.
Rather than eavesdrop on what they're saying, I put Victory down and tell her to wait next door, watching her climb into the armchair by the window before walking away and knocking on the door to my sister's office.
"Come in!" calls a very fraught-sounding Satin.
"It's only me," I say, peering tentatively inside. Predictably, I feel something push against my legs and a second later Victory is standing in front of me, looking from one person to the other with that expression of curiosity she sometimes has which Gloss says reminds him of me. "Should I come back later?"
"No, Cashmere, it's fine. We're just having a difference of opinion over how wise it was for me to have done what I did yesterday."
"I'm telling her that it's not sensible for the mayoress to be a pallbearer for a dead Hunger Games tribute, especially not this year," replies Miracle, talking to me but really continuing the argument I'd interrupted.
So it seems the rumours about Katniss and Peeta's 'rebellion' have reached here as well, or at least reached them. It isn't surprising really, not when Satin reads the Capitol newspapers and receives all the Capitolian visitors to the district. She's never been stupid so I'm sure it didn't take her long to work it out. She probably worked it out quicker than I did.
"I don't think anyone's really thinking about what we're doing," I say cautiously.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," answers Miracle, looking concernedly at Satin.
"You worry too much," she replies, smiling slightly.
"Only because you seem to make it your life's mission to give me a reason to," he replies, reaching down to scoop Victory up into his arms. "We'll leave you two to it. But think about what I said."
My sister nods and continues to stare after them long after they've disappeared down the corridor and the door has swung closed.
"What did he say?" I ask, making her jerk her head around to face me like she'd only just remembered I was there.
"Never you mind," she replies, sitting back down behind her desk. "Where's Gloss?"
"He went for a walk. I'm not sure where."
"How is he?" she asks, and then she briefly looks away when I raise my eyebrows at her. "Fine. That was a stupid question. But I don't know what to say anymore."
"How about starting by telling me how you became the mayor?"
"The old one died."
"Don't be flippant, Satin. You're the head of one of the richest and most powerful families in the district so you're an obvious choice, but you've always said you'd never do it. What made you change your mind?"
"It's the mayor's responsibility to act in the best interests of the district and to do what's right for it's people. It got to the point where I thought I was the only one who could see beyond their own self-interest enough to remember that."
I gaze steadily across at her for several minutes and not once does she look away. She's got that stubborn expression I remember so clearly from our childhood, that expression which used to tell me she'd made her mind up and there was nothing in all of Panem that would make her change it. There's more to this than I first thought, I know there is. But I don't know what.
"And what is in the best interests of the district?"
"I think you know the answer to that, sister dearest," she replies, looking pointedly around the room in a way that tells me I might not be the only person hearing her words. It's a look I'm more used to seeing in the Capitol and certainly not one I'd expect to see from my sister. "Every district needs stability."
"Of course," I say, narrowing my eyes slightly as I realise I'm still none the wiser. "And you think you're the one to provide that stability?"
"There's nobody better," she tells me with a smirk.
"Then you should probably come back home with me because Drusilla gave me another suit for you."
"What colour is it?" she asks immediately, her expression suddenly deadly serious.
"I didn't look," I reply laughingly. "Since when did you become so fashion-conscious?"
"I'm the mayoress now, Cashmere," she says lightly. "I have to think about how my public views me."
There's something about the way she says that which makes me think there's a lot more to it than that, but I don't press her further. I know her well enough to know there's no point. She'll tell me if and when she's ready and not before.
"I'm sure the people of the district fear you a little more than they should and almost as much as you want them to," I reply. "Even the Capitolian reporters won't follow me in here."
"So you're hiding? That's why you're here to see me?"
"No," I protest. "Well partly. I'm mostly just here so you can tell me everything you know about what's happened while I've been…away."
"Everything?" she says, smiling evenly across the desk at me. "I can't tell you everything when I think there are things I know that you most certainly shouldn't."
There she is again, hinting at things that almost makes me think she knows about the rebellion plot. If she did it would be the new one not Achillea's, because I know I'd have known if she knew about that. But she can't. It's impossible. Not Satin. She can't. But then she probably thinks the same about me.
"I find that very hard to believe," I reply, sounding like I'm teasing her when really I'm speaking the truth.
She laughs and after that we silently agree not to talk about such things any more. She tells me about how she became the mayoress and I tell her about what happened in the Capitol, going into more detail than I ever thought I would with her. If someone had told me ten years ago that we'd be talking like this then I wouldn't have believed them, but we are and I'm grateful for it. I might never have Sapphire back, but I have a sister I can talk to and that's something I never thought to have again.
There are fresh flowers on her grave again. There always are. I've walked this way virtually every day of the four months that have passed since the end of the Seventy-fourth Games and never once have I seen a wilted bloom. Never once have I seen my brother here either, but I know he's the one who places them there, I know he's the one who still grieves. Her family left only one bouquet, a fine one of yellow roses created to make a statement rather than to symbolise the love they still feel for the daughter they lost, and they haven't been back since. There are no roses there now. Gloss hates roses even more than I do.
Glimmer's name carved into a plain gravestone is all that's there to mark her resting place, and I crouch down to brush my fingers lightly across it.
"You're better off wherever you are, Glimmer," I whisper. "Or at least I hope you are."
"Aunt Cashmere! Aunt Cashmere!"
I jump to my feet instantly in response to the familiar voice and turn around in time to see Victory racing towards me as fast as her legs will carry her. I look behind her for Satin or Miracle but unusually she seems to be alone.
"What is it?" I ask when she skids to a halt too late and crashes into my knees. "Where's your mother?"
"She sent me to get you. She says the man from the Capitol wants to see you."
"Man from the Capitol?" I say, trying to ignore how my stomach churns at the same time as my mind fills with dread. "What do you mean?"
"They came on the train when I was asleep. Come on!" she replies, grasping my hand and attempting to drag me back the way she came.
"They?" I ask, really starting to panic when she says that.
What could people from the Capitol want now? There are nearly two months to go before Everdeen and Mellark start their Victory Tour. And Satin seems to be devoting her life to ensuring everything in the district is running so smoothly that they have no cause to visit more than is absolutely necessary.
"There are three of them. Two men and a woman."
"What did they say? It's really important that you remember, Victory," I tell her, stopping when Satin's house comes into view and kneeling on the path so I'm at eye level with my niece.
She shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. Daddy sent me to my room."
I raise my eyebrows at her. "Since when have you done what Daddy tells you? What did they say?"
She takes a deep breath, shuffling on the spot and looking down at her shoes. "Daddy shut the door so I couldn't hear. But one of them was way older than Mother. His skin was black." I breathe a sigh of relief. Not the president then. "The woman was scary. And her face didn't move when she talked."
I can't help laughing at that, thinking of the way a lot of the Capitol women have treatments to stop them getting wrinkles and guessing that's what Victory means. She's observant, my sister's little daughter, even at this young age, even when she's scared. That's good, I think. Then I realise I'm imagining her in an arena and I force the thought away. She might be related to two Victors but that doesn't mean I have to think about what might happen a decade into the future just yet.
"And the other man?" I prompt, making myself refocus on the present.
"He was talking to Mother. That's when she sent me to find you."
"Did you recognise him?" I ask, still struggling to fight my feeling of dread.
She nods. "Yes. He was on the stage before you and Uncle Gloss went away."
I smile when she says that, knowing she has to mean the reaping, and then suddenly it's me dragging her along behind me rather than the other way around. In the end I pick her up and carry her because she can't run fast enough, and she's still in my arms when I burst into my childhood home, only just remembering to stop and compose myself before knocking on the door of what Satin calls the guest reception room.
"Good morning, Cashmere," calls Satin when she sees me, her tone of voice an instant warning. Then she winks at me, a gesture so quick I almost think I imagined it. "As you can see, we have guests from the Capitol. I thought you could help me keep them entertained. I believe you've all met before. Go upstairs, Victory," she adds, speaking in a way that doesn't allow her daughter room to argue back or disobey.
I look around the room, trying not to smile when I see Vespasian, but then all thoughts of smiling disappear from my mind instantly when I see the tall, thin woman by his side. Prisca nods, narrowing her artificially violet eyes sharply in a way that makes me have to fight to keep myself from automatically flinching away.
Her official title is 'Advisor to the President', but Falco explained to me how she's much more than that a long time ago and even if he hadn't then I'd know her by her truly fearsome reputation. She was the one in charge of The Vault on the night Achillea died. She was the one who ordered the interrogation of the former leader of the revolution. I nod back, hoping I've succeeded in keeping my expression neutral when all I can do is wonder why Satin sent for me and put me in such a dangerous position, one which is made all the more risky by the third visitor in the room.
I finally allow my eyes to meet Falco's, smiling slightly and trying to stop myself from feeling like a fourteen year old girl looking at her first love as all thoughts of Prisca promptly disappear. I can tell by the pointed way Satin clears her throat that I'm only just managing to conceal the emotions I can't quite suppress.
"Forgive me for asking," I say, speaking in a deliberately over-formal voice for Prisca's benefit as I look away from Falco and mentally tell myself to get a grip, "but why are you visiting now?"
"We're checking everything is in place for the Victory Tour," says Falco, speaking in an icy-cold tone that's never usually directed at me. I instantly translate his words as 'Shut up, Cashmere', and something about the almost imperceptible look he exchanges with Satin confuses me even more.
"Then I will leave you to your work," I retort, rapidly getting fed up of trying to play a game I don't understand the rules of. "I apologise for intruding."
"No. Now you're here you can walk with me to the main square," he replies, the look in his eyes telling anyone who cares to notice that he's thinking of getting me to do a lot more than just walk to the square. "I need to see everything is as it should be."
I bite back my response, now sensing he's only performing for his audience of one, but it feels strange to hear him speak to me like that. I don't like it. Or at least I mostly don't like it. Then he catches my eye and the look he sends me makes me understand what he's doing. I abruptly have to deliberately make myself think of the arena, of my own Victory Tour, of anything to make myself feel as uncomfortable as I should be feeling when I suddenly don't feel uncomfortable at all.
"We're not here for you to have your fun, Hazelwell," interrupts Prisca, making me inwardly sigh with relief when I realise she's falling for it. "We have work to do."
"And I'll do it," he replies lazily. "Tomorrow."
"Shall I tell the president the reason for the delay?"
"If you like," he says, sounding almost insolent. "I'm sure he understands the distractions of District One as well as anyone," he continues, looking me up and down with a deliberate slowness so Prisca couldn't possibly mistake his meaning.
I look at her, silently pleading with her to put a stop to this because I know it's the one thing that's most likely to make her want to do the opposite. As I predicted, she doesn't let me down.
"Go. But make sure you're back here tomorrow," she says to Falco, and by the time he grasps my wrist and drags me towards the door, she's already talking to Satin again.
I look back to see the amusement in Vespasian's eyes and then the door closes behind me. I pull away from Falco's grip just enough for me to be able to take his hand in mine until we leave the house and the cameras are watching once more.
"You know who she is better than I do. Are you crazy?" I hiss, dragging him to a halt before he can open the front door.
"Maybe," he replies, grinning back at me. "But I've missed you."
I open my mouth to reply, still unsure if I'm going to tell him that I've missed him too or that what either of us want or feel doesn't matter, but before I can speak he opens the door and pulls me outside. There's a small entourage waiting, and I guess from the look of them that they were also on the train that came from the Capitol. However Falco diverts their attention back to Vespasian and Prisca with a few seemingly casual words about the Victory Tour and before I know it we're walking across the main square, talking very loudly about the position of the stage.
"We need to talk," he says, pointing across at the Town Hall to make it look like he's talking about the building in case anyone's watching us.
"Talk?" I reply lightly, surprised by how much better I feel with him by my side. I partly enjoy it but at the same time I partly wonder exactly when I got so pathetically needy.
He laughs as much as he dares to in public. "You know this place a lot better than I do. I'm following you."
"This way," I say, struggling not to run as he follows me up the massive stone steps into the Town Hall. I can sense his confusion even though he forces himself to say nothing. "You'll see."
He manages to remain silent as we walk all the way along the passageway that leads to the side exit and then down another path which takes us out into the park, far away from the crowded main square.
I smile at the sight of the place I spent so much of my childhood escaping to, a place I haven't visited for years because I didn't want to tarnish it with the things I think of now. I remember racing across the grass with Gloss and Sapphire and hiding from all the people Father sent to bring us back. I remember how happy I used to be and how we were never caught until we were finally ready to go back. That's what made me return today. I've never brought anyone here before, but for some reason I can't explain, I want to show Falco part of the life I used to live.
"Butterfly, where are we?"
"Patience," I reply, admonishing him teasingly. "You'll see."
I scan my surroundings at the same time as trying to hide my increasing desperation when I can't get my bearings, until eventually I see the tree I'm looking for. It's the one of the biggest trees in the park and its distinctive shape was what used to guide me to one of my favourite hiding places.
When I get to it, I find it much as I remember, although somehow everything seems a lot smaller than it was the last time I saw it. The gaps in the thick foliage are a lot smaller too, but I get through into the hidden clearing beyond with a very amused-looking Falco following closely behind.
"What is this place?" he asks, looking around and pulling me into his arms at the same time.
"A very good hiding place," I reply, putting my arm around his waist and leading him across to the foot of the big tree I'd been looking for. "Look," I say, pointing to the three letters carved into its trunk.
"C, G and S," he reads, pulling back the long grass and wildflowers so he can see.
"I don't think anyone else ever comes here. They never did then anyway."
"Well it's not up to my usual high and exacting standards," he replies teasingly, deliberately exaggerating his Capitol accent so he sounds like a very masculine Effie Trinket, "but I suppose I can make do."
I pull away from him and hit his arm sharply, pretending to be offended by his equally pretend dismissal of one of my favourite places in the world. Then I dart back across the clearing before he can retaliate. He chases me and I make only a less than half-hearted attempt to run.
"Don't you dare!" I cry as he lifts me up and then falls down to the ground. "Felix spent hours making this dress."
"He can make you another one," he replies dismissively, pushing me back onto the grass.
"But I really don't think-" I start, deliberately trying to torment him by continuing to talk.
"Cashmere de Montfort," he interrupts. "Be quiet."
"But you said you wanted to talk," I tease, trying not to laugh.
"I do. Later."
From the little patch of blue sky I can see from this angle, I guess that it's just about midday. Falco is leaning back against the tree my siblings and I carved our initials into and I'm leaning back against him, struggling to bring myself back to reality because I know we'll have to leave soon. It's so quiet here that we could be the only people in Panem. If I'm not thinking of my immediate family then sometimes I wish we were.
"I wish I'd been born here and not in the Capitol," he whispers, interrupting our long silence.
"Really?" I ask, not able to imagine him as anyone but who he actually is. "Why?"
"Because then we wouldn't have had to hide."
I think about that for a minute and I suddenly start to like the idea considerably more than I did. "I suppose I wish it too when you put it like that. You'd have found a way to make yourself really rich so my father would have wanted us to marry. We could have lived such a different life."
"But would we have been us? I wouldn't be happy with your father thinking he could give me orders and you'd be bored and think I was holding you prisoner."
"No, I wouldn't," I reply, although when I think about it, I decide the eighteen-year-old girl I'd been before the Games might not agree. "And anyway, stop ruining my fantasy."
"You weren't saying that a few hours ago."
"I wasn't saying anything a few hours ago," I reply, speaking before I really think about what I'm saying and then smacking him when I sense rather than see him smirking smugly at me.
He laughs, momentarily stopping stroking my hair back until I settle down again, shaking my head sharply as a way of silently telling him to carry on. He gives me a greatly over exaggerated sigh, calls me demanding and then pulls me closer and continues, twisting my blonde curls around and around his fingers.
"Are you really here because of the Tour?" I ask eventually, finally bringing myself to ask him the question I've wanted to ask ever since I saw the horrifically terrifying sight that was Prisca in Satin's house.
"Yes," he replies. "And no."
"That's not an answer."
"Do you remember what I said about how people might see Katniss's trick with the berries as more than just the desperate actions of a love-struck girl?"
"I've thought of little else for months."
"Well more people saw it as rebellion than anyone could have imagined. There's unrest in some of the districts and if something isn't done then it could…turn into something more than just unrest."
"Rebellion?" I breathe, hardly daring to say the word. "In the districts?"
"It's possible. That's why the Tour is so important this year. If Katniss and Peeta don't play their roles then there could be trouble. And you mustn't tell anyone this, not even Gloss, but everything coming out of Twelve says the star-crossed lovers act died when the official cameras stopped filming."
"But… So… What does that mean? People are only just realising the act was a lie? People are taking what Katniss did as deliberate rebellion because she doesn't really love Peeta?"
He nods. "Some of them. Those who matter. Seneca Crane's dead."
"Dead?"
"Dead," he repeats flatly. "Executed for something else, but everyone with half a brain knows it was really because he let those children live."
"So who took his place? Another of the president's puppets?"
His arms tighten around me and he kisses the top of my head. I know he's delaying because there's something he can't bring himself to tell me.
"Falco?"
"Plutarch Heavensbee."
It takes me a minute to recover, but when I manage to I pull away just enough to look up at him.
"Heavensbee? How? Why? Does that mean what I think it means?"
"She always wanted it that way," he replies eventually, and I somehow know he means Achillea.
Heavensbee was involved with the first rebellion plot, and when I think about it, it makes sense that having him work his way to becoming Head Gamemaker was part of Achillea's original plan. But Achillea is dead, and the potential rebels aren't the single unit they once were. I can't even begin to comprehend what's going on now, and the worst thing is that I don't think Falco can completely either. There are factions involved who weren't before, and that's making everything even more complicated.
"Does that mean it will be soon? When? What will happen first?"
"At the moment nothing will happen," he replies, speaking slowly as if he's choosing his words very carefully. "I don't know all that's going on, but from what I can gather, a lot of it depends on a certain girl from District Twelve."
"Everdeen? What's it got to do with her?"
"Everything. According to Heavensbee anyway. He wants to use her defiance to begin the rebellion."
"Using the districts?"
"Yes, to start with. He knows not everyone involved in the plot agrees with what he's doing but he thinks that if people see the districts fighting back then they'll all fall in behind him and reunite."
"And will they?" I ask, remembering the arguments I've witnessed between Phoebe and Narissa.
"Maybe. I can't say. I'm not sure if it will even get that far. The president knows too much. He's already planning to go to District Twelve to speak to Katniss and make sure she does as she's told."
"So it all depends on the Victory Tour?"
"I suppose it does. But at the same time I can't see how Katniss and Peeta can reverse what they've started. If people want revolution then they'll fight, no matter what happens on the Tour."
"Maybe they should fight. Maybe it's time."
He laughs. "Quite the little rebel, aren't you? But it isn't that simple. That girl can't change the world. She can't take away the president's power and put it in the hands of the districts with a few nightlock berries."
"It's like you said though," I reply determinedly. "The girl doesn't matter now. It isn't her who's going to lead the rebels."
"But who is?" he asks. "If you can answer that question then you know more than me, and that's the problem. That's why it shouldn't be now."
"It will never be the right time, Falco. I don't like Katniss Everdeen and I don't believe in her, but I believe in the cause and I'm sure I'm not the only one. If enough people feel the same then it's got to be worth a try."
He pulls me closer, holding me so tight that I can barely breathe, but he seems to relax slightly and I smile because that's what I wanted. When I really think about it I can't see how we can ever succeed, but if people like him believe we can then there might be a chance. That's what I tell myself when I lie to him anyway, because there's nothing I hate more than lying to him. Nothing but Coriolanus Snow anyway. I'd give virtually anything to see him fall. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is the thought that one day I might.
Will you forgive me the (relatively) angst-free fluff if I say it's the last time I'll ever have the opportunity to write it...?
As ever, thank you to those of you who have been with me and reviewing from the very start - you keep me writing :) If you're still reading then spare a second to let me know - like most authors on here, I love reading your comments. Thank you :) *says Caisha as she goes off to reread Catching Fire so she can write the next chapter*