They make me watch Ares' trial.

Trial. Heh. It goes exactly as expected. Whoever wrote the script should get a pay raise.

Two soldiers clad in the drab uniforms of District 13 drag Ares Valerio, Victor of the Forty-First Hunger Games, into the tribunal. As the accused, he's dressed completely in simple white. I wonder if it's deliberate, a throwback to the outfits worn by the tributes for the very first Games. Somehow, I doubt it. I suspect such symbolism is totally alien to a mind like Alma Coin's.

The woman herself sits on the high bench, looking down at Ares with an impossibly impassive face. She reads the charges leveled against him (murder, assault, conspiracy, corruption, and high treason) and asks the prosecution to proceed. The prosecutor, another District 13 lackey, plays the recording of Ares' Games for the jury, followed by clips of his Victory Tour and other public appearances.

"There can be no doubt that this man, who willingly trained and volunteered for the abominable farce known as the Hunger Games, was a willing participant in the oppressive regime inflicted on the districts for seventy-five years! I ask the jury to give the districts a taste of the justice so long denied to them, and hand down the penalty that Ares Valerio inflicted illegally on so many of their children. Death by firing squad!"

Applause rings through the courtroom. Coin looks down at the defense solicitor, a wispy Capitol man who still has emeralds embedded over his eyes and tells him to make his case. The man shuffles some papers and announces that the defense does not contest the charges.

Coin glares at Ares and asks if the accused has any final statements. Ares looks up with sunken, weary eyes and slowly shakes his head. It takes the jury less than twenty minutes to return with the guilty verdict.

They dress Ares up and set him on a stage with Caesar Flickerman for a final interview. Caesar performs with the appropriate gravitas, knowing that his life depends solely on the good graces of the new regime. Ares mumbles out something about regret for his crimes, a pledge of loyalty to President Coin and her cabinet, and that he's ready to face justice. The brash, confident Ares I knew would have spit in Caesar's face if it only meant his life but Ares has a family. I wouldn't be surprised if they had one of his daughters in the wings to remind him of the consequences of deviation from the script.

They take him out to the City Circle immediately after the interview. He gives a salute to his district before he's shot dead.

I stare at the flat-screen television in my cell, watching Ares Valerio bleed out on the grey stone in high-definition. The only thing missing is popcorn.

"One more down," says Shilling from his bunk. "This rate, there won't be any more Victors left by next week."

"Shut up," snaps Whisper as she leans over from the bunk above him. "Have a bit of respect."

Both of them give me a quick glance. I ignore it. As if not talking about it will stop the fact that my days are numbered. Shilling and Whisper don't understand, neither do the other rebels locked in this cell with me. They're still stinging from Coin's betrayal of the District 1 rebel forces. But my death has been looming over my head since the announcement of the Quarter Quell. Unlike my comrades, I never fooled myself into thinking I'd be getting a happy ending.

There are eight of us in here. Whisper and Shilling, both technicians from 1 who have been part of the district's resistance ever since it existed. I don't know the other five, and they haven't offered names. I'm by far the highest-profile prisoner in here. The only one from a Great House. The only Victor. Speculation on the reasoning behind our sudden imprisonment following the fall of the Capitol has ranged from mistaken identity to Coin being a secret operative of Snow's all along. I haven't joined in these repeated, cycling discussions. The answer to me seems obvious. District 1 is still the most populous and wealthy of the twelve – no, thirteen – districts. We rebel leaders are a threat to Coin because a word or gesture from us could cost her our support and, more importantly, our funding. She can't execute all of us or the defection would be certain. We're here because Alma Coin hasn't decided exactly what to do with us.

They're dragging Ares' corpse off screen. His eyes are wide and a trickle of blood runs from his mouth.

"Never liked him much," I mutter.

Shilling snorts. "That's not saying much, Jade. You don't like anyone."

"I liked him marginally more than you though, but you set a very low bar."

He grins and I flip him off. It's harder than he thinks, watching my fellow Victors die day after day. And I can't help but wonder at what he said. How many of us are left, after the Quell and the war? How many after Coin removes those who are of no use to her or whose deaths are politically advantageous. Today it was Ares. Yesterday it was Brilliance, the man who won two years before me. Brill refused to make a pledge of loyalty on the Flickerman show. The bullets hit him in the gut. Not an instant kill. Just a fluke, they said. The day before that, it was old Granyte. They wheeled him out and made sure the oxygen flow from his tank was clear before they shot a seventy-four year old disabled man.

And the day before, my mentor. Ermine. I can still see her eyes staring up at the grey skies, bitter and furious and defiant to the end.

I pull out a pack of cards I managed to get off one of the guards with a little feminine persuasion. "So. Who's up for a few rounds of strip poker?"

Whisper rolls her eyes but the others react with some interest. Particularly the men. Some things never change.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before, sleezeball," I say to Shilling as he practically drools.

He winks. "I find my memory is frequently faulty, Ms. Boleyn."

I snort. "Four pints of ale says you're buck naked before I remove a sock."

There's a wave of laughter as we all sit down and I start dealing. I unconsciously angle myself so the camera in the corner picks up my good side. Some things really do never change.

The rounds of poker last us a few hours. We do pushups and other exercises after, stinking up the crowded cell but the alternative is going mad from boredom. Most of us sleep on and off through the day and night. By the time morning comes around again, we're swapping the filthiest district jokes we know. I'm dropping a particular zinger about the similarities between District 7 women and their winters when they come for me.

The cell door opens and four men march in, surrounding me. I manage a quick glance at Whisper and Shilling, both of their faces etched with fear and mistrust. The men, again all from District Thirteen, escort me out of the cell in the bowels of the Training Center and up into remake.

I admit it's not an experience I ever expected to undergo again. The Capitol woman recruited for the remake is clearly inexperienced and I eventually have to snatch a tube of lipstick from her shaking hands and tell her I'll do it myself. My makeup is applied; my hair is combed and teased. Once I'm dressed in a simple white tunic and trousers, I'm announced ready to face the tribunal.

It's packed. The galleries are filled with people, most of them district rebels by the look of it. All of them craning for a glimpse of Jade Boleyn, the jewel of District 1, their most famous Victor, now brought so low. Indeed, I see the looks of glee on their faces, the rabid desire for revenge, for blood. The fools.

Other than that, the scene is the same from yesterday's trial. Same prosecutor, same defense solicitor shuffling papers. Alma Coin enthroned on high, looking down. Maybe it's my imagination, but there seems to be a particularly hungry look that wasn't present for my fellow Victors. The rebel soldiers escort me to my seat and take positions around us. There are catcalls and hisses from the gallery. I bare my teeth in a hungry grin.

"Let it be noted that the accused being present, the trial of Jade Boleyn of Boleyn House shall commence. Alma Coin, president of Panem presiding. Letts Bolger will serve as prosecutor, Cicero Teague as public solicitor for the accused."

There's a lot more hemming and hawing and self-congratulations. I pick at a hangnail until Coin deems me worthy of her attention once again.

"Jade Boleyn. You are hereby accused of the following offenses. Corruption-"

"Conspiracy, assault, murder, and high treason," I finish. "I have a good memory, Madame President. Or did I miss something? Public littering, perhaps?"

Coin's nostrils flare and I mark a silent point in my favor. "Contempt of court, if you interrupt me again, Boleyn."

She clears her throat. "How do you plead?"

My solicitor, Cicero Teague, clears his throat. "The defense pleads g-"

"Not guilty!"

Coin's nostrils have turned white. I shrug. "I interrupted him, not you. He was about to plead guilty and I most assuredly do not."

"Fine," Coin hisses. "Fine. Let it be noted that a plea of 'not guilty' has been entered. The prosecution may take the floor."

Letts Bolger steps forward. He's dressed in the same grey jumpsuit as all of them, but he has a gold pin on his chest with the seal of District 13. "Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, citizens of Panem. You see before you an unrepentant murderer, a woman who not only trained to enter a competition where she was permitted to legally murder children for entertainment, but encouraged others to follow in her amoral footsteps. As the last living Victor of District One, Ms. Boleyn is-"

"The last?!"

I can't help myself. I look up at Coin in disbelief. "That's…impossible. I can't be…"

Bolger glares at me. "Your Honor, are we going to be required to endure these interruptions at every step?"

Coin waves a lazy hand. "If Ms. Boleyn interrupts us again, she will be cited for contempt of court. However, we can indulge her this one time. It is her day in court, after all."

She looks down like a schoolteacher inviting a particularly quarrelsome student to ask a question. I cross my arms. "I'm not the only one left. There were so many others-"

"Mr. and Ms. Delacroix perished in the Quell, obviously," says Bolger in a tone of smug superiority. Their mentors were also executed by Snow's regime under suspicion of treason, with yourself being the exception after your…escape from the city." He sniffs. "Ms. Ermine Butler and Mr. Brilliance Rosencratz were judged guilty of complicity in capital crimes by this court and executed. Several of your district's Victors expired before the Quell, of course."

"But Gleam. He was in the District. He was…old, not a threat to anyone."

Bolger smirks. "Mr. Cobble was well known in your district as the founder of the District Academy for Excellence in Youth Development, where so many children were taken after being abducted from their legal guardians. Mr. Cobble's remains were found in what was left of the DAEYD. Apparently he was chained inside your Academy as the rebels burned it. A suitable punishment, I would say."

I look up at Coin again. It's like she's daring me to ask. I take the bait. I need to know.

"And…Luster Lancaster?"

"Well, no one can say for certain, as only fragments were found," says Coin. "But reliable sources indicate that the rebels loaded Mr. Lancaster into the graphite compressor, the one used to turn the mineral into diamonds. I'm told one of the Delacroixs is currently wearing him on a chain around their neck."

I don't say anything. Bolger gives a tut of impatience. "If the inquiries are finished, might I proceed with the arguments?" Coin gives a regal nod of her head. Her grey hair doesn't move.

It's like a horse kicked me in the chest. Bolger continues to paint me as a horrible monster to the jury but I don't even hear him. All of them, gone. Cashmere, Gloss. Silk and poor Gleam. Crystal. Brill. Ermine. And Luster. The overwhelming grief is replaced by an immense sense of relief and a greater wave of rage. He's gone. Gone, and I'll never have my revenge. I didn't even get to see it. Damn them. Damn them.

My solicitor gives me a nudge and glares at me. I suppose I should be paying attention, even though the outcome of this trial is already set in stone.

"Ms. Boleyn began showing sociopathic tendencies before she was even of reaping age," Bolger is saying. "As a young girl, she dared a playmate, a young girl from Dustell House, to make a difficult jump with a pet pony. Boleyn reportedly made the jump with ease, but she knew her playmate was of considerably lesser skill. The result left the horse lamed and young Miss Dustell paralyzed from the waist down."

There's muttering from the jury and the galleries. Coin looks down at me as though expecting me to interrupt again. I shrug. She huffs. I'm not taking her bait again.

Besides, it's completely true.

"Ms. Boleyn was quickly shuffled into the DAEYD, reportedly to avoid legal action against her House. But there, her reign of terror truly began. Notably, there is an incident involving a twelve year old Boleyn and her future mentor. Take a look at this security footage recovered from Luster Lancaster's personal office."

The viewscreens overhead show the gymnasium of the DAEYD. I watch myself offer the live sword to Ermine, watch her battle three girls at once. My younger self throws the mace and my mentor murders two girls in cold blood. I'm in the corner of the footage, smiling wickedly. Heh. I was so adorable.

The prosecutor and Coin hear my little huff and both turn their heads to me. It's my turn to lazily wave my hand. "Sorry. Lost in all the good memories. Please continue."

Bolger's jowls quiver. "After aiding and abetting murder in the DAEYD," he hisses, "Ms. Boleyn and Ms. Butler were practically inseparable. Boleyn's time at the school was marked by a series of sadistic events never firmly traced back to her, but I think it's apparent to us all that this little sociopath was willing to do anything to remove anyone in her way. Sure enough, after the incapacitation of her main rival, Jade Boleyn was poised to take the stage at the reaping of the Forty-Ninth Hunger Games."

And now the screens show my reaping. There I am, young and beautiful and such a fool, running for the reaping bowl. I'm the first one there easily, and I toss my hair and blow kisses to the crowd.

"As we see, an eager volunteer for murder."

The tape moves past the reaping, past the parade where I was dressed entirely in strings of jades, past the training clips and my score of ten. Bolger moves it forward, stopping at my interview with Caesar. He looks the same as always except for the jet-black hair and lipstick. I, of course, look fantastic.

"So, Jade. So much to talk about! Tell me, why did you volunteer for the Games? Everyone's dying to know."

My eighteen year old self gives a throaty laugh. I grimace as I watch how I cross my legs so the slit in my dress shows the bare leg.

"Oh Caesar, it's been my dream all my life! To come here, to this place, to see you all, and of course to compete in the biggest show in Panem!"

"You're ready then?"

"Of course I'm ready! I hope you are. You're about to see something spectacular."

"Any advice for your competitors?"

"Well, I suppose. They're at such a disadvantage, it'd be a poor show if I didn't give a hint." I turn towards the cannon fodder and bare my teeth.

"Run fast, little boys and girls. Run as fast as you can."

Bolger skips the tape forward. "I won't subject the jury to the entirely of these barbaric Games. But there are some points we must find the fortitude to endure once again. We'll start at the battle commonly known as 'the bloodbath.'"

Clips from my Games pass in a blur. The Gamemakers put us out into a foggy stretch of moor that year, not as diabolically evil as the forest from two years prior, but filled with enough horrors to sate the audience. I'm there, of course, the star of the show. I run for the bow and arrows left specifically for me. I take two tributes down with expert shots from the mouth of the Cornucopia. Then the Games truly begin. I give the performance of a lifetime. Playing my alliance off each other, showing affection to one, teasing to another, cold aloofness to a third. The comparisons to Diana, some ancient moon goddess, begin in the Capitol almost immediately.

I take down the boy from 11 with a blind shot through the mist at two hundred yards. It was frequently ranked as one of the top ten Hunger Games moments on the specials. I'm separated from the pack for a day and face a trio of hell hounds, each one dying with an arrow in its throat.

When the alliance breaks I flee to a circle of standing stones in the middle of the moors. My old allies come sneaking through the mist once, twice, three times, and each time I drive them back with the bow and supply of arrows provided by generous sponsors. The girl from 2 snaps my bowstring with her last knife. She charges in, ready to break my neck with her bare hands. I get my bow around her pretty throat and break hers first. The trumpets sound.

I'm on the stage, crowned and enthroned, dripping with emeralds and pearls. Caesar is standing by my side.

"Did you ever have doubts, Jade? Ever a moment where you hesitated?"

"I think the results speak for themselves, Caesar. Eight dead boys and girls, and me here with you."

"And we couldn't be happier to have you here, Jade!" Our laughs mingle.

Bolger stops the tape. "Truly, a chilling and cold-blooded murderer, there can be no doubt."

I snort. "For shooting tributes in the arena? Why don't we watch the Mockingjay's Games now?"

The uproar is expected and tedious. Of course, they wouldn't dare besmirch the name of their precious Mockingjay, even though she killed as easily as the rest of us in the arena. But no chance of a fair showing here.

Besides, I don't need the reminder that Katniss Everdeen might – might – be a better shot than I am.

Bolger huffs. "After her murderous run through the arena, Jade Boleyn mentored sixteen tributes of her own, all volunteers like herself. She was a frequent presence at the DAEYD, training the next generation of the Capitol's killers and…sexual favors. Unlike many Victors, like Finnick Odair, who were forced into a life of prostitution by Snow's regime, Jade undertook the role willingly, as she-"

I leap from my seat. "Objection!"

"Overruled." Coin doesn't look at me.

"But he-"

"Overruled, Ms. Boleyn. Don't make me say it again."

Bolger gives another smirk. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Many Victors were victims of their circumstances. Forced to fight for their lives in a game over which they had no control, and forced to do horrible things for their own survival and that of their loved ones. Ms. Boleyn is not one of these people. It should be abundantly clear that Jade Boleyn entered the Games of her own volition, killed without regret, and continued to support the system that took the lives of 1,743 children before we ourselves brought it down. I ask you, now, to hand down the penalty demanded by our just cause. Death by firing squad! The prosecution rests, your honor."

There's applause and cheering from the galleries and even from the jury. Coin smiles indulgently. "Well said, Soldier Bolger, well said indeed. Mr. Teague will now present the defense."

My solicitor gives a dry little cough and shuffles his papers. "The defense does not contest-"

"The defense certainly does contest!"

I'm on my feet again. Coin gives a snort of exasperation. "Ms. Boleyn, you do not have the right to-"

"I most certainly do. I'm firing my solicitor and representing myself. My right under Section 14, Paragraph 'C,' Point Two of the Panem Judicial Code." Coin looks frazzled. I smirk. "What's the matter? Pretty little Career girls aren't supposed to know about judicial law?"

Coin's nostrils are positively voluminous. "State your case, Ms. Boleyn."

I turn to the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I certainly cannot contest anything that happened over the course of the Games. You saw them for yourself. It's also impossible for me to describe what it's like growing up in the DAEYD, never mind in a Great House. And you wouldn't care either way. I did what I did during the Games. I don't ask for validation and I don't expect it."

I turn back to Coin. "But I was told, by a ranking member of your government, that the Victors who fought on the side of the Mockingjay would receive amnesty for past offenses. Or was that just a lie, to lure us in?"

Coin nods her head. "It's certainly true. But what evidence is there that you were, as you say, a rebel?"

I snort in disbelief. "I've worked for this rebellion since the Second Quarter Quell! I was personally recruited by Platinum and Luxe-"

There's a rumble of anger from the galleries. Coin interrupts me.

"Platinum and Luxe were heroes, men of true valor. Their names are not called upon lightly. Nevertheless, both have been dead for some time. Hardly useful to you as witnesses."

I want to shoot her through her bitch's heart if only to wipe the smug look from her face.

"Fine then. I call Beetee Latier."

Coin raises an eyebrow. "Beetee is currently incapacitated from his injuries in the Quell and is unfit for testimony."

She blinks twice. It's a liar's sign. But I know there's no use calling her out on it.

"Finnick Odair."

"Killed in action during the invasion of the Capitol."

That one hits hard. I brush it off.

"Annie Cresta."

"Unfit for testimony, given her…condition."

"There's nothing wrong with her!" I practically scream. Coin doesn't respond. "Connor Murphy."

"Missing in action, presumed deceased."

"Cora Shutter."

"Hasn't been seen for more than a year, if I'm well-informed."

I slam my fist down on the table. "Oh for the love of pearls. There are seven rebel leaders from One you have locked up in the Training Center who will testify on my behalf!"

Coin smiles. "All rebel leaders from One are accounted for. Lies won't help your case, Ms. Boleyn."

I pull out my last card. "I call Plutarch Heavensbee as a witness to my case."

There's a deep gasp from the crowd. But Coin just nods. "Very well. Mr. Heavensbee, please step forward."

He comes down the aisle. He's much thinner than the last time I saw him, smaller too without those ostentatious purple Gamemaker robes. But he still has the sagging eyes, fat fingers, and shrewd expression as he takes the witness stand and swears to tell the whole truth.

"Mr. Heavensbee, can you verify any of the claims the accused has made concerning her involvement in the Mockingjay Revolution?"

Heavensbee looks down at me. I wait expectantly. Long seconds. What is he waiting for?

He turns to Coin. "I cannot."

"Liar!" I scream. "You liar!"

"I cannot recall Jade Boleyn ever being mentioned as one of our allies, much less an active rebel. I can verify no truth to her claims."

"You evil, fat, stinking liar!"

I launch myself at the fat pig, ready to rip out his lying tongue. Strong hands grab me and throw me to the ground, pressing my face into the musty carpet.

"You are all fools!" I scream. "Can't you see she's just like him! She's Snow all over again! This isn't a trial, it's a farce, and you're all dancing to her tune!" A boot comes down and kicks the air out of me, sending me into heaving coughs.

"I don't know why she thought I would speak to her behalf. Perhaps she thought I would lie to save her. We have known each other for a very long time, after all. But I took an oath I'm afraid."

I can hear Coin smirk, even though I can't see it. "Indeed. Well, I don't think we need to waste any more of the court's time, nor do we need any further proof of Ms. Boleyn's violent tendencies. Jade Boleyn, with the power given to me by the newly freed people of Panem, I ask the jury to hand down a verdict of -"

From my position on the ground I can hear the doors of the courtroom open. A hush falls.

"I hear you were looking for me."

Feet shuffle down the central aisle. A walking stick tap tap taps against the ground.

Coin's voice is muffled. "I'm afraid, whoever you are, that this trial is at an end. Jade Boleyn has been-"

"Not quite, she hasn't, if I heard correctly. I'm here to testify on her behalf."

I crane my neck to see if I can identify my mysterious witness, but the guards press me down harder. I try spitting at one. Miss.

"The time for testimony has passed, I'm afraid. This goes against standard court procedure and –"

"Is there a problem with letting her testify?" comes Heavensbee's voice. "After all, this is Jade's day in court. We wouldn't want rumors that the new government is suppressing witnesses, especially those with pertinent testimony."

I can practically feel the quivers of Coin's suppressed rage. "Fine. Fine. Let her speak. And get that one off the floor."

I'm lifted up and shoved back into my seat, just in time to see Heavensbee assist an old woman in a faded shawl up into the witness stand. A sudden well of hope suddenly balloons in my chest as the woman glances my way and just barely winks.

"State your name," says Coin in a tight voice.

"Bovina Martinez. Victor of the Twelfth Hunger Games, and proven rebel since before you were born, missy."

I have to hold back the snort of laughter. Coin's expression could curdle milk. "And your…information?"

"Well, let's see," says Bovina as she leans back in her seat and kicks her feet up. "It all started back around the Fifty-First. I was at the doctor getting my bunions checked, there was this handsome orderly there with a name like Putnic. Parsip? Something ridiculous. Anyway, like I said, my bunions had been acting up and I went in to get my back reset as well…"

Bovina launches into a full retelling of how I became an active rebel working to bring down the Capitol and particularly Luster and the DAEYD. Some of it is even true. Other parts, well, old folks do like to embellish a bit.

"In conclusion," she says after forty-five minutes (a vein has been throbbing in Coin's forehead for the past twenty). "No one here denies Ms. Boleyn's active participation in the DAEYD or the Games. But ladies and gentlemen of the jury, if we condemned every man and women who ever served the Capitol because it was the only thing they were ever taught, we'd empty half the country. It's what Jade did afterwards, after she took control of her own life, that matters."

She turns to the jury. Most of them are district men and women, and the reverence for the oldest living Victor is unanimous. "I myself have seen Jade's dedication to freedom and liberty for this nation firsthand. She saved my life twice over when we escaped the Capitol after the Quell. In the name of all who died to bring us here today, in Finnick's name, for Boggs, for the Mockingjay herself, I tell you now, there is only one verdict you can hand down today and still be on the side of justice. 'Not guilty!'"

She's stepping down before the crowd realizes she's finished. Then the same people who were cheering for my death an hour ago burst into applause.

"Bovina better flee now, or she'll find herself in your place tomorrow," whispers my solicitor. I give him a startled look. He looks up at Coin's face glumly.

The jury deliberates for another hour before they come back with the verdict. I'm declared not guilty.

Coin looks like she swallowed a lemon whole. "The people have spoken," she says. "Jade Boleyn, you are cleared of all charges against you. Guards, return her to her cell."

"What?! You have no right to lock me up back in there!"

Coin smiles. "Do you really want me to release you here and now? Into that?"

Only now do I hear the rumble behind my, of mingled satisfaction and anger at the verdict. Unfortunately Coin is right. I'd be torn apart in a few steps. Fortunately, that wouldn't reflect very well on Coin's ability to protect her citizens.

"You'll be placed back in your cell until arrangements are made for transportation back to One. Get her out of my sight."

Coin throws down the gavel and marches off. Heavensbee is already gone. The guards surround me, but I march between them with my head high, my shoulders set. A Victor once more.


"It's been a week!" I scream at the camera in the corner. "How long does it take to put me on a train back home?"

Whisper shrugs. "For all we know, infrastructure may no longer exist. And forgive me Ms. Boleyn, but it doesn't seem likely that Alma Coin will consider you important enough for a hovercraft."

He makes sense. Still, something's off. I very much do not like this.

Shilling pulls out the pack of cards. "In the meantime, strip poker?"

The lights shut off.

"Shut up, all of you," I whisper. I crouch down and place my ear at the door of the cell. There are footsteps on the other side. I have just enough time to stand and jump back when the door slides open.

A young man, short, scrawny, clearly Capitol, peeks in. "Don't just stand there, all of you!" he hisses. "Let's go!"

I cross my arms. "Who are you? Who sent you?"

"Mr. Heavensbee, of course. I'm one of his. An old Gamemaker intern, if you must know. Are you coming or not?"

"Heavensbee?" I ask. "He testified against-"

"Of course he testified against you, woman, do you think he can really oppose Coin openly now that she's set up herself as supreme ruler of the land? He got Bovina there in time to exonerate you, isn't that enough for you? But you're still not safe here, you lot need to get back to One now, so unless any of you have more stupid questions, I suggest we be on our way."

I'm itching to wrap my hands around his slender throat just so he'll cut that condescending tone. Instead I turn to my fellow rebels and raise an eyebrow.

"I'm going," says Whisper. Shilling is right behind her. The other five move in behind them.

I turn back to the intern. "Let's move already."

He rolls his eyes but leads us out of the holding area. The guards are slumped against the wall. I can see the rise and fall of their chests, so they're not dead. Just knocked out. The rich food scattered around them is clearly the source.

"Drugged?" asks Whisper.

"Of course. We're not all bloodthirsty killers, you know."

"Where are we going?" I ask as I clench my fists.

"There's a hovercraft waiting at the other side of the city. We'll have to sneak through the old escape passages to get there."

I pull up. "Wait. I'm not going out there unarmed. We need weapons."

The intern bites his lip in impatience. "We don't have time to go hunting-"

"We don't have to hunt. This is the Training Center. I know my own way to the gymnasium from here. We're not moving until we're armed." I look behind me. My seven followers nod in assent.

"Fine," the intern hisses. "Fine. But if we're caught, on your own heads be it."

The gymnasium is only one level down from the cells. We make it there in minutes, through the entrance to the Gamemakers' box. The familiarity hits me like wall, and I'm left gasping for breath as the memories of a quarter century come rushing back. Lacquer showing off with the sword, the boys from 6 and 8 watching me with longing eyes, Flavia throwing knives with a wicked precision, the girl from 12 weeping in the corner.

Shilling touches my arm and I nearly rip his head off before I get myself back under control. "Come on, Jade," he says. "We don't time."

"I'll stay here and keep watch," says the intern. "Quickly, please?"

The others are already arming themselves. Most go for the swords, District 1's preferred weapon, but a couple load up with knives and one even grabs a trident. I go straight for the bows. Oh, how I'd love to get my hands on a weapon like Everdeen's, one made specifically to my abilities, but these will have to do. I select a longbow, more unwieldy than the one the Mockingjay is known for but better range. I'm loading up with a quiver of silver arrows when the lights come on.

"That's far enough, you lot. Drop your weapons. Now!"

The arrow is on the string and pointed to the owner of that cold voice in half a heartbeat. Coin is in the Gamemakers' box, looking down at us. District 13 soldiers flood in behind her. One of them has Whisper in a chokehold, a gun to her temple.

"Well, well, once a traitor, always one it seems," the president says. "Well done, Benedictus. Well done."

The intern bows respectfully. "Of course, Madame President."

"I presume Heavensbee had full knowledge of this…futile escape?"

"Yes, Madame President."

"Oh good," she says. "This may be what I need to finally rid myself of the Gamemaker. Treason in all quarters it seems." Her eyes move my way. "I said, put down your weapon, Ms. Boleyn."

"You set us up, you mutt-spawn," I hiss.

She raises an eyebrow. "Did I? That would have been clever of me."

"Why?!" I ask. "I fought for the rebellion, for the Mockingjay, for you! What more can you ask from us?"

"The Mockingjay? A wreck of a girl, a traitor herself who fancies herself exempt from the chain of command. She's been put in her place, as you're about to be. You're dangerous, Ms. Boleyn. A threat to the system. It's not personal, I assure you. Well, I won't pretend like I won't take some pleasure from seeing you going the way of your mentor-"

The arrow leaves my bow before she's done speaking. It flies straight for her heart but one of her soldiers blocks it, catching it in his shoulder. The other soldiers open fire, including the one holding Whisper. She falls in a spray of blood.

I dodge behind the training dummies at the sword station. All around me are screams of pain and roars of defiance and the sound of falling bodies. I manage to get two more shots off, each bringing down a man. I'm not aiming to kill but one of them moves as the arrow flies and he goes down with it in his throat. I hear the sound of footsteps coming my way.

The first soldier to come around the dummies learns the hard way that it's impossible to sneak up on a Victor. He goes down with an arrow in his side. The next comes as I'm reloading. She gets a foot to the gut followed by my bow across her face, knocking her out cold.

I've just about decided to go down riddled with bullets if I can get one clear shot at Coin when the dummies are knocked down and I find myself facing twenty pistols.

"Hold your fire," says Coin. She has a gun now, pointed directly at Shilling, who's clutching a bleeding arm. I glance around for other survivors of my group. There are none.

"Put down your weapon or he dies, now."

"You'll kill him anyway," I say.

She smirks. "Maybe. But maybe not. Would you like to test me? Just how much of a monster are you? I think you know the answer. You might be able to get an arrow off before he dies. Might."

I hiss in rage. I hate her so much. I want to do it, Shilling be damned. I could do it. Drop her now. Die with my head held high.

But I joined the rebellion for a reason. And when I did, I took an oath that I'd never let someone die when they didn't have to again.

I drop the bow. Kick it away from me.

Coin's steel-grey eyebrows raise. "I'm surprised. You never would have gotten the shot off, but I thought you'd try. It wouldn't have mattered though. I'm wearing the best body armor District Two has to offer." As she says it, I notice the lines beneath her jumpsuit. Stupid, Jade, so stupid.

"You said you'd let him live," I say.

"I said maybe," she says. "I haven't decided yet. Take him back to the cell. Don't bother doing anything for the arm."

They lead Shilling off and Coin turns back to me. "As for you. Jade Boleyn, by the power given to me as Supreme Commander of the forces of Panem, I have the right and authority to dispense swift justice on the battlefield. I judge you guilty of treason and sentence you to-"

"Pardon me? Madame President?" It's the treacherous leech, Benedictus.

"What now?" Coin spins on him.

"I…I got a call. They're all ready for you."

"Who?"

"The Victors. The last ones. You asked to be notified immediately when they had assembled. The Mockingjay has just arrived."

"Ah, yes. Of course. Thank you."

She turns to her soldiers. "Escort Ms. Boleyn to her cell. I'll finish this when I have time to enjoy it." She smirks at me. "Don't look so relieved, Jade. Officially, you're dead."

They take me back to the cell. I don't fight them.

Shilling and I don't talk. The ghosts of our six dead companions loom like a wall. Stupid, stupid.

Never stop fighting. That's what Luster taught me. The one thing from the hated man I took to heart. Now he's dead. He died fighting. Look where it got him. Look where it got me.

"Jade," says Shilling. "Look."

I follow his gaze to the viewscreen. It's showing live coverage from the City Circle. President Snow is chained to a post, surrounded by a crowd of people. He coughs. Blood speckles his beard.

"At least we're alive to see this," says Shilling in a tone of vindictive pleasure.

I shrug as the feed switches to the figure standing opposite the deposed President. It's the Mockingjay. Katniss Everdeen. She looks awful. Her face is grey and worn, her hair lank. She's wearing that dumb costume again. She has her bow, with one arrow. The last shot of the war, I'm sure. She looks defeated. Snow just looks amused.

Coin steps out onto a balcony to thunderous applause. There's something different about her.

"She's not wearing the body armor anymore," I say.

"Probably doesn't think she needs it," says Shilling.

Coin is saying something to the crowd. Katniss is staring at the President. There's something there, something happening that I can't pick up on.

"What are the chances she takes out that bitch instead of him?" asks Shilling.

I snort. "Katniss Everdeen, doing something her puppet masters haven't approved of? I think you give her too much credit."

He shrugs. "A man can dream."

I spit on the floor. "If Katniss Everdeen has an original thought for once, I'll take back everything I ever said about her after three martinis. But look at her. Her wings are clipped. She's as much a corpse as we are. No, Shilling, I don't think we can be expecting any more miracles from Katniss Everdeen."

The crowd is cheering. She raises her bow. Looks at the president. Both of them.

Only another archer would notice it. The tense of her shoulders. The shifting of her feet.

"Well," I say as the arrow flies. "I have a new best friend."


We'll see more of Jade, rest assured!

It's been one year since TVP debuted. I can't thank you all enough for all the support I've gotten.

And even better news. Haymitch's chapter will close out 2014 (It's done). Look for it on New Year's Eve!