Chapter 26

After the visit from Haymitch that morning, he was filled with a sense of restlessness. As he paced his room, he stumbled across some pencils and paper. Immediately he grabbed them and started to sketch. He had no intention of drawing anything in specific. He just wanted something to keep his hands and mind busy. But before he knew it, he was tracing out scenes from the forest: the pond and mountains, the treetop horizon at sunset, Rayne walking up a trail. The hours flew by. The sudden knock at his door startled him; he dropped the pencil. Effie walked in and told him to hurry, he was late, Cinna and Portia were waiting for him.

He had glanced down at the paper in his hand. Somehow, he had spaced out while drawing and now held a complete portrait of Rayne. The face glowered from the page, her dark eyes intense and alert, that barely there frown of concentration on her forehead, and a smile, trying to tug at the corner of her mouth. Rayne was the only person Peeta knew who could carry all these varying emotions on her face at once.

Effie had glanced at the drawing, still grasped in his hands. "Who's that?"

"No one," Peeta shuffled the papers quickly, burying it in the middle. "Just a friend from back home."

"Ah." She shook her head disapprovingly, "You can't very well have more romances on the side, now can you? Besides, you could do much better."

Peeta blinked, confused. "What?"

"Well dear," she tottered over to him and pat his shoulder, "your friend from home seems rather plain. Not that it matters now. If you win though, you can bring her back here. Maybe you could get her a booking with Cinna."

Anger flashed through Peeta. He opened his mouth to lash out, but never got the chance. Portia stuck her head in the room and called for Peeta. They were waiting.

And now here he was. Opening Ceremonies. It sent a chill down Peeta's spine. It was to be the seal on his fate, and he could no longer pretend it was all just another nightmare. He was going back in. And Effie was right: nothing else mattered now.

Peeta stayed glued to the chariot while all the other victors eyed his suspiciously. When he first walked in among the buzzing group of men and women, everyone hushed. Confused at first, trying to remember which year he had been crowned victor. When they realized who he was, however, the confusion changed to surprise, and finally, this suspicion that made him feel so uncomfortable.

It felt strange to him, to be back. Surreal, to go through all this again. He knew this time there would be no way he would make it out alive. He did not stand a chance, and Rayne was not going to be there to help him this time. In a sense, he was all alone. Even as Katniss joined him on the chariot, he felt like a leaf on the river. So little control over what would happen next, and so solitary in his journey.

"Here, let me," Katniss straightened the crown on his head. Part of the elaborate costume. It made Peeta feel like an imposter, wearing a mock victor's crown in a sea of other victors. "Remember what we're supposed to do?"

"No waving . . . Portia said we're to be above it all." Peeta glanced around nervously. Cinna and Portia were nowhere to be seen. "Where are they, anyway?"

"I don't know," Katniss replied. "Maybe we better go ahead and switch ourselves on."

As the costumes light up and glow, Peeta could feel everyone's eyes on them. Even as the music started and the chariots filed out, they were looking at Peeta. Some cast a final, accusatory glare, while others, like the pair from District 6, stared dumbly. Morphling addicts, Katniss had explained.

"Are we supposed to hold hands this year?" Katniss asks.

To Peeta, her voice seems miles away. He replied automatically, "I guess they've left it up to us." After a moment, Katniss reaches for Peeta's hand. He flinched, but she barely notices.

The roaring crowd dulls sharply as they enter the arena. Upon seeing Peeta, the Capitol citizens are unsure of how to react. The shouts of excitement fade to sharp murmurs, rising in volume as the chariot pulled into position. Katniss eyes a unimpressive spot in the distance, playing it cool. But a quick squeeze of his hand tells Peeta: that was not the reaction she had been expecting from the crowd.

The great crowd of people is finally silenced, as President Snow rises and begins his speech. "Welcome citizens to the Opening Ceremonies. And welcome, Tributes, of the Third Quarter Quell!" The crowd cheers, wildly, but lacking a certain lustre. Snow raises his hands to quiet them before continuing. "This is promising to be a very special Quell. So let us extend our appreciation to all the stylists, for creating all these," Snow casts a heavy glance at Katniss, "meaningful costumes. And too, let us not forget to extend our appreciation to his year's Game Maker, Plutarch Heavensbee."

Again the crowd cheered. Snow let them rave for a few minutes, before quieting them again. "And now, I have a very special announcement. This year, we have a unique guest Tribute with us. Really, nothing like this has ever happened before."

Snow changed his glance from Katniss to Peeta, who, most unwillingly, made eye contact. Snow seemed to be talking directly to him. "I know this is quite unexpected. But let me assure you," Snow smiled cunningly before raising his eyes and gesturing to the crowd, "all of you, that this particular Tribute will be making an already special Quell even more interesting. Surprisingly resilient, and quite good looking, I'm sure you sponsors will be lined up this year."

Snow fingered the white rosebud on his suit jacket and looked back down at Peeta. "I apologize. I do drone on. So without further ado . . . Citizens! Would you like me to formally introduce you?" He could feel every single person's gaze resting heavily on his shoulders.

Their reaction was astounding. Gone were the curious half whispers from when they saw Peeta. Now they bellowed and shouted. Peeta could barely breathe. In the evening light, the air seemed electrified from the crowd. The uproar reached a climax, the noise thundered in Peeta's ears.

But then, there it was again. The noise like thunder. Peeta looked around, then up at Snow. The President's smile was sly, and he gestured towards the great doors at the back, where the chariots had come out of. Confusion swept through the other Tributes as they glanced back at him, then at the door. Shock registered on many of their faces; awe on others. Another resounding boom of thunder, accompanied by the shrill whinny of a horse. Slowly, Peeta turned around and looked.

A woman in a dress, on horseback, between two mounted Peacekeepers. Peeta knew right away that the dress was from Cinna. The strapless tight fitting bodice flared out, billowing, the train sweeping down over the glistening black hindquarters of the horse. It was a smoky plum, mingled with shifting clouds of thick greys, bleeding to a thick black hem. But the real show stopper, the thing that everyone was staring at, was her tiara. It glowed and crackled like liquid silver. Suddenly, a thunder clap. The horse gave a half rear at the sound, but Peeta could still make out the flash of lightening travelling from tiara down to the bottom of the dress. Then it was gone.

At once, Peeta understood. He dropped Katniss' hand as if it were a hot coal. Like everyone else, he was mesmerized, held captive by this amazing scene painted out before him. However, he was the only one who knew.

"Peeta?" Katniss whispered fiercely, reaching for his hand again. Peeta pulled away from her, desperately trying not to run off the chariot. She continued to try to get his attention. He never even heard her. He was completely focused on the lone rider.

Silver-plum eye makeup and blood red lips. Despite this, he could make out the features. A finely shaped nose and chin, high cut cheekbones, full lips. Chocolate and auburn hair. Honey eyes. Though the woman on horseback was completely foreign to him, Peeta knew who she was. The haughty, hostile way she carried herself. That fierce and cold look in her eyes. The dress was the biggest clue.

Snow's voice boomed over the PA system. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you . . . the last remaining Districtless!"

It was Rayne.