Dearest Diary,

I nearly broke my neck this morning. Even that pales against later events, some of which I hesitate to write here for fear that others may someday read this. Suffice it to say that today was not my best day, and whether it is a fair attribution or not, I blame it entirely on Mr. Peeta Mellark.

"When you said you enjoyed riding, I assumed you had done it before."

"I have," Katniss grunted. She made the best of her death grip on the saddle to shimmy further back into her seat. It didn't help. Now she just felt like she would fall backwards instead of forwards. She caught Peeta watching her, his expression half concerned and half amused, and scowled. "You could offer to help."

Edgar, the wisp of a saddle boy who had ridden Daring here, stepped forward to help, but Peeta waved him away. "I can help her, thank you," he said, moving close enough that he could catch her if she started to slip. Or, if he wasn't fast enough to catch her, he would at least cushion her landing. "On or off?"

"On. How else are we going to see the park?"

"All right." Peeta studied her and the horse. "How do you usually ride?"

"Not like this!"

"I can see that." She hated the laughter in his voice.

"I usually ride –" Daring, who despite her name, Peeta had assured was the gentlest, most patient horse he had ever encountered, chose that moment to start forward. Katniss screamed so loudly that it was a miracle no one came running to help them, assuming she had been attacked. The thought did nothing for her sense of security in the city. The noise seemed to urge Daring on, and Katniss clawed for a handgrip, praying she would not be thrown off.

Thankfully, Peeta's instincts were better. He took hold of Daring's reigns before she could go more than a couple steps, twisting them around his arm to anchor her in place. "Whoa, girl. Steady." He stroked her mane, and Daring leaned into his touch. When he was convinced she wouldn't try to move again, Peeta turned back to Katniss. "What were you saying about how you usually ride?"

His horse had nearly tossed her to her death not thirty seconds prior, and he wanted to stand about and discuss it while she was still on the horse? Fine. As long as he kept Daring in one spot and chose not to bring up her earlier shriek, she could pretend that everything was fine. "My father had me on a horse before I learned how to walk. I assure you that I am a perfectly capable horsewoman, but I've never ridden sidesaddle before." Katniss thought she did an excellent job of keeping her voice calm, especially when one considered that her backside was slowly sliding backwards off the saddle. Mother had offered to teach her how to ride sidesaddle before they came to London, but Katniss had refused, believing it a waste of time. That much, at least, hadn't changed. Hundreds of people must die from falling off their horses every year. Why increase that risk by making it possible to fall off in every possible direction? And Prim, who only rarely rode, had picked up the skill so quickly that Katniss thought it would come naturally to her should the need ever arise. Perhaps thinking was her real enemy. It never seemed to take her anywhere good.

"I believe it." And on second thought, maybe her real enemy stood not three feet away. Peeta was still laughing at her, even if he was less obvious about it now. "You don't have to change on my account."

Edgar choked down a laugh at that. At least he had some decency. Peeta, however… Katniss ought to have kicked him for that jab. If this was anywhere besides London and he anything besides the younger brother of an earl, she would have. Instead, she channeled the spirit of the haughty older women of the ton, the ones who could destroy anyone with a word. Keeping her head held high, she frowned down at him, and summoning a voice that hovered at the freezing point, she began, "Mister Mellark, if you ever – ah!"

Peeta had Daring still again in an instant. "You were saying?"

"Never speak to me like that again." This time, she spat the words out. If the universe's goal was to convince Katniss Everdeen she could never act with poise and grace, it had succeeded. If it wasn't, then depositing her in Regents Park sidesaddle on the back of a horse unable to stand still for more than a few seconds at a time with a man who thought the entire predicament some sort of joke was simply cruel.

Her words did not have their intended effect. In fact, she could not determine that they had any effect at all, which Katniss considered a complete waste of effort. "Are you certain you want to ride? Edgar can take care of the horses."

The boy straightened at the mention of his name. With arms and legs too long for the rest of him and a face that had not quite caught up to his ears and nose, Edgar had all the gangly disproportions one could curse upon a fifteen-year-old. He was also just as bad about hiding his eagerness as every other boy his age. Thank goodness, the boy liked horses. Katniss could hardly imagine the drudgery of the life he had ahead of him if he didn't. She couldn't very well deprive him of his time with the horses, could she? "No, I believe a walking tour will suffice."

She reached down towards him, Peeta placed a guiding hand on her waist, and she slipped from Daring's back into his waiting arms. Though the day was hot, she welcomed the warmth she felt every place their bodies touched. Wanting more, Katniss leaned into the embrace, and Peeta obliged, holding her there, tucked against his chest, for a moment longer than was necessary.

But there were eyes on them, and all too soon, her feet touched the ground. Katniss had never before realized what a blessing the solid ground was. It took a merciful god indeed to have created a surface that – except for the occasional groundquake – did not buck beneath one's feet or set off faster than a man could run with no warning whatsoever. "Better?" Peeta asked.

"Much."

"Good. Shall we be off then?" He offered her his arm, which she took.

"Please."

Peeta nodded goodbye to Edgar and started off down the path, farther and farther away from the picnickers that congregated on the main green. At first, Katniss struggled to keep up, her skirts always in the way. While forgoing a riding habit of her own had been a sound decision economically, she wished she had considered that Prim had at least five inches on her when she'd made it. It did not take her long to fall into a rhythm. Half a step, kick the skirts forward, half a step, kick, half a step…

"You're much better-mannered today than usual. Perhaps I should put you on a horse more often."

"I'll kill you first."

"And there's the Miss Everdeen I'm used to." Peeta grinned. "There are lots of secluded areas at Andrews Hall. I'm certain you can find a way to sneak out in your breeches to ride, as I don't see you attempting to ride sidesaddle again."

"Andrews Hall?"

"One of my brother's homes. It's where I spent most of my time growing up. Though Mother loves the city, Father much preferred our time in the country."

Katniss could not have agreed more with that sentiment. With its boulevards lined with stately townhomes, each one more in vogue, better maintained, more perfect than the last, London possessed a type of beauty all its own. But no architect's vision compared to that of God. Winding creeks and streams, vistas that extended far beyond what the eyes could see, the scent of flowers and dew on the air. No matter how much rosewater she rubbed on her wrists and neck, Katniss could not purge away the stink of London, of thousands of people pressed together, none cleaner than the dirtiest among them. But as much as she agreed, Katniss wasn't certain she followed the logic behind his statements. "And why would I be there?" she asked.

"I'd assume we'll visit Rye from time to time."

And finally, realization dawned. "I'm not getting married." In hindsight, perhaps she should not have been so blunt. Perhaps she should have softened her words, prepared him for what was coming, but instead, like Daring, she dashed forwards, hardly thinking of who might be struggling to hold on.

Seconds stretched like hours between them. She searched his face for any emotion, but Peeta's face was guarded, the blue eyes that had always been so open suddenly expressionless. "You aren't marrying me, or you're not getting married in general?"

"Both."

He snorted, but there was no real humor behind it. "I suppose one does imply the other, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so." They had slowed to a complete stop, and she slipped her arm away from his. A part of Katniss wanted to apologize, but she could find nothing to apologize for. She had been an unwilling participant in the season from the very beginning, had done everything she could to discourage male company, had been downright unpleasant when he first approached her, and yet here they were. "I understand if you want to leave now." She sounded small and scared, everything she didn't want to be.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "No." Peeta shook his head. "I apologize. I shouldn't have assumed."

"It was not an unreasonable assumption. I should have informed you earlier."

He started forwards again. "Let us speak no more of it."

Katniss suspected the subject would not stay dead for long, but she obliged him. "Are we going back?"

"No," he repeated. Oh, so he had been referring to their walk earlier then. She hadn't been certain. "It really would be a shame if you spent a season here without seeing the park. And in any case, we have a great deal to discuss."

"About?"

This time, his laugh seemed genuine. "Mister Crane. That is why you agreed to come with me, is it not?"

"Well, not the only reason." Yes, she could see where his misconceptions had arisen. She would have to do better in the future.

"Katniss." He stopped, and at the mention of her given name, she stopped as well. "I apologize. Miss Everdeen."

"You can call me Katniss."

His smile did not quite reach his eyes. "I hope we can remain friends after this."

"I hope so as well."

"Good. I would hate to have ruined a friendship over such a misunderstanding." Peeta paused for a moment, and a smile toyed at his lips. "And in any case, if I were to marry every young woman I enjoyed spending time with, I believe the law would be after me in an instant."

"We wouldn't want that," she laughed. It felt freeing to joke with him, to laugh. At times like this, she could almost swear that they had been friends for years, for they fell so naturally into rhythm.

"Your friend Mister Crane was about two steps from the poorhouse a year ago, did you know that?"

"Really?" Katniss considered it for a moment. "He seems to be doing rather well now."

"Indeed, and nobody knows how. Come on, now. I would like to get to the edge before we have to turn back." He sped up, and Katniss dashed a few steps to match his pace.

She frowned. "Isn't that strange? I would think that if he came into a great sum of money, somebody would know where it came from."

"Perhaps not. If it was family money, I'm certain that people would know who had passed. But if I found a clever way of investing and made a fortune off it, I wouldn't be in any great rush to tell everyone my secrets." Peeta nodded toward her. "I'd make an exception for you, of course."

"Unfortunately, I believe you have to have at least some money before you can invest any."

"A good point," he acknowledged. "It also makes my secret even safer."

"Unless I sell it off."

"Betrayal, then. I shall have to watch my back." The twinkle had returned to his eyes. She hoped it never left.

"Perhaps I could watch it for you."

"Then I'll be dead before the day is out."

"I do wonder how he managed it."

"You could ask your sister," Peeta suggested. She might know."

"Mister Mellark, you occasionally have some excellent ideas."

"I like to think I have my uses."

Katniss again looped her arm through his, and she smiled up at him. "I think I can find plenty of uses for you."

"No, Katniss, you are the problem here. Why must you immediately assume the worst of him?"

Upon further consideration, Katniss determined that Peeta's ideas were also occasionally terrible. This was one such occasion. To be fair, though, as far as she knew, Peeta had never met her sister. Katniss wasn't certain she had met this side of Prim before. She hoped that the ill-tempered demon who had replaced her sister would go away soon. "When did I assume anything about him?"

"You have since the beginning! I can tell you don't like Mister Crane. You've never bothered to hide it, have you? But have you ever considered that it might not matter whether or not you like him as long as I do?"

"I just want to make sure you're safe." It sounded perfectly reasonable to her own ears. Katniss glanced towards her mother, lifted her eyebrows, urging her to join in, maybe force some sense into her younger daughter, but Eileen made no movement to do anything but watch. Maybe she ought to be more like her mother.

Prim scowled. Goodness gracious, she looked just like Mother when she was angry. "And so you sneak around talking to others about him behind my back? How is that supposed to keep me safe?"

"I want to know who you're getting involved with. Frankly, it worries me that you don't seem half as concerned."

"Why don't you look into your Mister Mellark, then? I'm sure there's plenty of interesting information there. Nice gentlemen scare away opera singers all the time, don't they?"

For reasons she didn't want to consider, that made her blood boil. "Leave Mister Mellark out of this."

"You're the one who brought him into it in the first place! Do you really think I don't know where you've heard your whispers? It's not as though you talk to anyone else."

"Stop it, Prim." She felt more tired than she had any reason to.

"Or what? You'll go back to insulting Mister Crane?"

Something broke within her at those words. Katniss shoved past Prim as she raced upstairs. Tears blurred the edges of her vision, but she would not cry. No, she was angry, had every right to be after her sister's treatment. Prim was being ridiculous, and now she'd followed her up into the relative safety of her bedroom. Not bodily – for all she could tell, Prim was still downstairs, probably waiting and stewing for when Katniss inevitably returned – but with her bed only a few feet away and her personal effects littered about the cramped space, Katniss could not escape her sister's presence. And why should she have to? Prim was the one being unreasonable, not her. Katniss only ever had her best interests at heart, and yet she insisted on viewing her older sister's concern as some sort of personal attack.

Her mind made up, Katniss reached underneath her bed for her knife. It was a short thing, the blade only four inches long, but Haymitch had assured her that in the proper hands, it could cause quite a bit of damage. After what he'd taught her, Katniss believed him. She slipped it into the secret pocket in her sleeve and started back down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"You're not leaving," Mother said as she strode towards the door. Katniss did not reply. "Katniss, it's less than an hour until dark, and I think it's going to rain. Come along, be reasonable. You and Prim can talk about this again in the morning, after you have both had some time to calm down."

"I need some fresh air."

"Then keep it short, at least. I don't want you out after dark. You never know what sorts are on the streets at night."

"I'll keep that in mind." Katniss slammed the door behind her.

She hadn't made it more than five steps before the first fat raindrop hit her face. Katniss glared up at the cloudy sky and kept going. If Mother couldn't stop her, she wasn't about to let London's miserable weather get in her way.