My heart stopped. My breath came in short and sharp gasps. Across the room, Ezra was watching me carefully.

I was a Victor's kid. My mother had upset the Capitol. And now I was going to die. I wouldn't have believed it all . . . if it hadn't made so much sense. The constant training sessions, the Lockart's fear of the Games, the escape from District 4, the reason the Capitol had put me in the Games even when my name wasn't drawn.

"Who?" I managed to choke after about ten minutes of utter silence, shivering in fear.

Ezra frowned. "Ione Porter," he told me, and a memory of her helping Iris into the District 4 chariot at the Opening Ceremony flashed across my eyes. A small whimper slipped my lips at the thought of it.

"What did she do?" I gulped.

That made him shift and take his gaze away from my face. "That's . . . another matter," he trailed. "And certainly not one you need to be concerning yourself with now. You have other problems."

His warning brought me back to my senses, and I shook myself roughly, taking a ragged breath and fixing my eyes on his face. "Why are you even telling me this?" I asked quietly. "You're the President's son. If Ione has annoyed him-"

Ezra lifted a hand to silence me with a tight grimace, scowling. "Because I want you to be prepared," he told me simply. "My father may wish to punish Ione for . . . past mistakes, but you are by far the most promising tribute in the Games this year."

I snorted sourly, my eyes narrowing slightly. "So? Trying to make it interesting?"

"You are the talk of the Capitol," he answered shortly, and I could tell he was losing patience now. "The Gamemakers are going to try and take you by surprise. Tomorrow night during your interview, Caesar Flickerman is going to announce to the world that you're Ione Porter's daughter."

"And what effect is that going to have?" I shrugged, though my stomach squirmed in discomfort.

Ezra stared at me in surprise. "There are several reasons they'd want to tell everyone," he said. "None of which I want to discuss in any great detail. But the effects will reach far outside the Arena." He hesitated at the expression on my face and sighed heavily, straightening out. "Flickerman is going to make it seem that the Capitol themselves arranged to have you moved. That Ione was in danger and so were you so long as you were near her." I scoffed before I could help it, but he just glared back at me. "You're to go along with it. Any . . . detours and you might find your situation worsens somewhat."

I glowered back. "I'm already going to die," I spat. "What more could you do to me exactly?"

He lifted an eyebrow coolly, and my stomach dropped fifty feet. "Think about it," he instructed, straightening his suit jacket out. "Everyone has a weakness." The moment the words came out of his mouth, images flashed through my mind. Desirae at the Reaping. Iris. Eva and Erik. The Lockarts. Layton. A lump formed in my throat and my expression relaxed in fear again, but Ezra just turned and stepped back out of the room.

I waited for a few minutes until I was sure he and his bodyguards had gone before leaving the room. Any confidence I'd had coming out of the assessment had vanished - it didn't matter what I did now, this was all just an elaborate chess game, and I was never going to be allowed to win.

Back on Floor 11, Layton had already finished his assessment. He was slumped in a chair at the table, his head in his hands as Klaus, Seeder and Flynn tried to comfort him. Chaff was gulping back another glass of wine, and Circa was in a deep, hushed conversation with one of my prep team, Rye. She cut off the moment I stepped out of the elevator, her face pale as she side-stepped Rye and moved toward me.

"Blake," she breathed in relief, and everyone turned to look at me. "Where have you been? You should have been back half an hour ago."

I hesitated, wondering if I should tell them the truth. Would it matter, one way or the other? My mouth opened to answer, but the growing fear I still felt toward Ezra Snow made my mouth clamp shut. Clenching my hands to stop them shaking, I shook my head and slipped past her, striding straight into my room and locking the door behind me.

I knew I had to get it together. I had to be strong, I had to get my confidence back, and I had to be able to act the way I usually would. If I didn't, people were going to know Ezra was targeting them to get to me, and I couldn't have that. If the Lockarts saw me lose it, they'd see right through me. So would Eva, and Erik, and the idea that I could put them in harm's way was unthinkable.

So instead of crumbling like I wanted to, I stepped into the shower again and focussed on what I had to do next. It wasn't just my life on the line anymore, and that meant there was a lot more at stake if I failed. Tomorrow, Caesar Flickerman would tell the world that not only was I a Career tribute, I was a Victor's kid, taken away from my mother for my own safety. I doubted District 4 was going to appreciate their Victor being dragged through the mud, or that District 11 would like their star tribute being taken away from them, but I had no choice. All that mattered was keeping the Capitol happy. That meant playing it cool and calm, being as sarcastic and witty as ever, and gushing with gratitude when Flickerman asked me how I felt about the Capitol, completely ignoring the fact they were the ones who'd launched me into a fight to the death.

Focus, Blake, I scolded myself as I stepped out of the shower. You'll have plenty of time to vent all this in the Arena. Until then, grit your teeth and bear it! So I did just that. I dried my hair and braided it over one of my shoulders, dressing in a pair of tight dark green trousers and a black blouse before joining the others for dinner.

"Ah, Blake," Seeder smiled cautiously as I took my place beside her. "Feeling better?"

I cast a quick glance around the table to see everyone was staring at me expectantly. "Much, thanks," I smiled back easily. "I think I might have over done it ever so slightly."

Chaff snorted. "Your assessment?" I nodded with a small shrug.

"She must have been good," Layton grumbled from beside him, and my smile wavered a fraction. "All the Gamemakers were whispering dead excitedly when I went in."

"Really?" I blinked, my eyebrows lifting. "Wow. Who'd have thought, huh?" Layton shot me an unreadable look, before dropping his gaze back to his plate. I grinned. "And here was me thinking I was out of practice."

The atmosphere at the table immediately shifted, and Flynn went rigid on his seat at the head of the table. Chaff and Seeder were exchanging another dark, worried look, and Klaus had his lips pursed in regret. Circa's eyes were fixed on me, like she was begging me to be sensible, but Layton frowned curiously.

"What do you mean, out of practice?" he asked.

I met his gaze unwavering. "I mean I haven't shot a crossbow since I was fifteen," I explained easily.

He blinked, stunned. "Where would you find a crossbow in District 11?"

I grinned back. "I didn't."

"Okay," Chaff interrupted, slamming his fist onto the table. "I think that's enough. Blake, a word please?" Beside me, Seeder sighed and dropped her head into her hands, but I maintained the happy-go-lucky exterior and stood up to follow Chaff and Circa out of the dining room. The moment I stepped close enough to him, he grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the living area, out of the earshot of everyone else.

"Alright kid, what game are you playing here?" he asked, for once not smiling and not happy. He's probably left his wine on the table, a small voice chimed sarcastically in the back of my head, but I decided not to say that out loud.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shrugged dismissively, and his eyes narrowed a fraction.

"Don't give me that," he dismissed. "You're up to something, or you're keeping something from us. It's one or the other, and either way, I don't like it."
I snorted darkly. "There's a lot of that going around at the moment," I answered honestly, and Chaff scanned my expression, startled.

"Blake, if you're in some sort of trouble, you need to tell us," Circa pleaded softly, taking one of my hands in hers. "We can't help you if you aren't completely honest with us."

I stared back at her, and suddenly I became aware that the list of people that could get hurt because of me was a lot longer than I'd originally anticipated. Circa and Klaus were on the list, definitely, and Chaff and Seeder for sure. Ezra's warning rang in my ears again, and I managed an easy smile. "Works both ways though, huh?" I smiled, winking once. Her face straightened in shock. "Anyone still hungry? I'm famished!" Without another word, I spun around and marched back to the table to take my place beside Seeder.

No one else said anything to me for the rest of the night, and I tried to keep my comments to a minimum, but every time I opened my mouth, I found myself second guessing everything. What if I made things worse? Would I put anyone in harm's way if I said the wrong thing? Ione already stood as proof that annoying the Capitol could put everyone you knew in danger.

So what did I do now? How did I protect the people I loved?

The question was still dwelling on my mind as we all took seats by the TV screen to watch the Individual Assessment scores being given out. I found my fingertips drumming on my thighs as I curled up on the sofa, my eyes glued to the screen. Beside me, Layton had his hands clasped together and his feet tapped the floor anxiously while Flynn babbled endlessly on his other side. Chaff and Seeder took up the armchairs at either side of the room, and Circa and Klaus sat by the window, flicking through their ideas for our outfits for the interview tomorrow night.

"Any idea how well you've done, Blake?" Flynn asked me encouragingly.

"We'll see in a moment, shall we?" I yawned in disinterest, twirling a strand of my hair around one of my fingers and ignoring the looks I got from Seeder and Chaff.

In no time at all, Caesar Flickerman was on the TV screen, again sat at his desk and ready to call out scores for each of the tributes. To kick things off, Rory from District 1 scored a ten, while Jenia scored a seven. Both Yves and Lori from 2 scored eight. Uri from 3 scored a nine while his cousin Erin scored eight. As District 4 flashed across the screen, I felt my breath catch in my throat, my eyes suddenly fixed with a fierce concentration on the screen. Myles scored an eleven, the highest score so far, and despite her size, Iris managed to score an eight. Relief flooded through me and I let out the breath I'd been holding back. At least they'd impressed the Gamemakers. They'd get a good few sponsors out of that, at least.

I missed a few tributes from the list with my attention wandering in fear. When I managed to focus on the screen again, the District 10 kids, Rhys and Amnesia, were being scored with fours. Then Amnesia's face disappeared from the screen and Layton's flickered in front of us. Without thinking, I reached over and wrapped a hand around his tightly. Even I was having a hard time watching for the result.

Then a three flickered onto the screen and I tried my best to smile.

"That's not bad," Seeder encouraged. "We can . . . work with that, right Chaff?" He shot her a disbelieving look, but she elbowed him with a scowl and he cleared his throat, nodding.

"Sure," he grumbled. "Why not?" Layton looked like someone had already run him through with a sword.

"Shush!" Flynn suddenly urged. "Here's Blake's result!"

My chest clenched in fear as everyone turned back to the screen, and it was Layton's turn to squeeze my hand reassuringly. My teeth dug sharply into the inside of my cheek. The Gamemakers were obviously either going to score me really low to try and deprive me of sponsors, or really high to make me a target. I was just praying it was the latter. At least then that made my plan a little easier.

And I wasn't disappointed. Caesar Flickerman almost choked on his breath as he read my score out. It was a twelve. The first twelve for at least a decade, apparently. Flynn went ecstatic, and even Chaff and Seeder congratulated me. Circa and Klaus smiled softly and made a comment about my dress tomorrow, and excused themselves.

"I'm going to bed," I abruptly announced, jumping to my feet and slipping into the hall. So this was it. I had a twelve in training, I was the talk of the Capitol, and I had a lovely little sob story to butter them all up with tomorrow. Everything was falling into place.

So why did I feel so guilty?

I didn't feel any better the next morning. Chaff took Layton into another room to discuss their interview tactics while Seeder and I spoke over the dining room table. I wanted, more than anything, to tell her that it didn't matter what we decided. Caesar Flickerman had a script going into my interview, and I was never going to avoid it.

The afternoon was spent getting all made up by Circa and the prep team. As usual, I was made to take a long bath in a tub full of chemicals until my skin was soft and smooth. Then Rye and Xavier spent hours painting my nails and applying make up until my skin looked flawless. Ava washed and dried my hair, shaping it into a simple style for Circa to rearrange later.

I was given a few minutes to have a drink and eat while Circa ran through colour schemes and styles for them to arrange before she brought in the dress. Then they sat me back in front of the mirror at the dressing table. Rye coloured my eyelids in with an ocean blue that matched my eyes and faded into a dark green. Liberal amounts of mascara and eyeliner were then applied, along with colouring in my cheeks and a plump, soft pink on my lips. Xavier painted my nails with blue, ocean waves, and covered my skin in a light dusting of silver glitter. But the biggest change was my hair.

"Ava," I breathed, wide-eyed, and she beamed back at me.

"Don't you just look gorgeous now!" she giggled, running her fingers through the now deep golden blonde, bouncy waves that fell down to my elbows. She braided it expertly, leaving strands to frame my face, and fall gently over my shoulders, while most of it was loosely braided over one shoulder.

"I think she's ready," Ava suddenly announced as she'd finished. Then she clapped her hands sharply and pointed to the door. "Come on, gentleman! Let's leave her for Circa now!" She beamed in excitement as she ushered Rye and Xavier out of the door.

I ended up sat staring at my reflection, gobsmacked. I looked amazing, I had to admit, and yet . . . somehow familiar. With a jolt, I realised all this only made me look more like Ione Porter. Immediately, I wanted it gone. I wanted my hair back the way it was, the way I was used to it. I didn't want to look like her, not this much.

But then I thought of Ezra's warning, yet again, and felt my shoulders fall dejectedly.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Circa's sadden chuckle came, and I started, looking up into the mirror to see her standing behind me. She placed her hands on my shoulders gently and smiled. "I think you look lovely."

"I don't look like me," I replied.

She leant closer and whispered her reply. "Well then show them it is you," she smiled softly. "Now! How about your dress?" She took my hands and led me away from the mirror, retrieving the dress, covered in what appeared to be a large black plastic bag, from where she'd hung it on top of the wardrobe. "Close your eyes, Blake, and hold onto me."

I clung onto her shoulder as she helped me into the dress, which once again I wasn't allowed to see until it was adjusted properly. I felt the silk inside slide over my legs and up to my hips and around my chest. Circa clipped a strap around the back of my neck to hold it in place, then drew strings together tightly at the back to tie me into it. For a moment, she worked in silence, making sure that everything sat on my body at the right angle. Then she guided me into a pair of high heels and led me in front of a tall mirror.

"Okay," she said gently. "You can open your eyes now."

The moment I saw the dress, I gasped in disbelief. The upper half clung tightly to my body, showing off just how thin and lithe I was, while a thick strap ran from one side of my chest, around the back of my neck and to the other side to hold it up. The skirt itself stuck out a little at my hips, falling half way down my thighs at the front then curving down to the ground at the back, creating a small train that followed me as I moved. The most shocking part, however, was the fact it was the same colour as my eyelids. The upper half was an ocean blue, but around the edges of the skirt, it faded into a dark green. And immediately, I knew why.

This dress wasn't supposed to represent District 11. It was showed to show off District 4.

I turned to her, my chest clenching uncomfortably tight, and I knew from the look on her face she knew what I was thinking. I couldn't bear the thought I was turning my back on District 11. So maybe I had spent longer in 4, but I'd spent the worst part of my life in 11, and it was the people there that had helped me through it. The people at the market that bought the meat I caught, the healer who had once helped me for free when I was too sick to even eat, or the families who let me share their meals after I helped their children during the harvest season when we all worked in the fields. They were the people that were watching me in the Games, rooting for me and crying when I died. And I was as good as disowning them all.

Circa grimaced painfully, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't think about it," she mumbled. "Klaus and I are right here for you, okay? We'll be there when they let you go, I promise."

All I could do was nod gratefully and haul her into a tight hug before she could pull away. Instantly, she hugged me back, telling me over and over again that it was going to be alright. I tried to force myself to believe her, but I couldn't.

We didn't say anything as we left the room, my arm looped through Circa's for support. As usual, Ava squealed in delight at the sight of me in Circa's dress, but I couldn't even focus enough to entertain that. All I could do was focus on the interview. I had to get it together before then. I couldn't let everyone down, not now.

Layton and I were herded into the elevator again, followed by Chaff and Seeder. Circa smiled at me comfortingly, telling me again that she'd be there when I was finished. I didn't smile back, I was saving the energy for the interview.

The other tributes were waiting for us when we arrived. And I mean, all of them. One of them - a girl I thought might be called Nica - nudged the boy stood next to her and jerked her head back toward us. For a split second, the look on her face was enough that I was almost grateful for my new look. Then I saw Iris gawping at me, and I changed my mind quickly after.

I followed the line of tributes onto the circular stage, where twenty four chairs were arranged in a semi-circle facing the crowd. My stomach felt like it had tied itself into at least twenty knots as I took my place between Layton and Uriel from District 12. The rest of the tributes looked just as done up as Layton and I were, though I was slightly unnerved to see that Myles and Iris didn't represent District 4 quite as blatantly as I did. Myles wore a silver suit and a blue tie, and Iris was dressed in silver, glittering dress that ended at her knees.

As it turned out, Caesar Flickerman turned out to be one of the only people here I didn't immediately despise. He was a reasonably short man, with blue skin and bright blue hair. The only thing I had trouble with was the overly cheery expression on his face. Why couldn't these people just realise how twisted this all was? The idea that the people in this very room would be laughing and cheering while we all died . . . I shuddered on the spot, but quickly straightened out when Uriel shot me a strange look.

I barely heard most of the interviews while I tried to maintain my act. I paid enough attention to realise Jenia was keeping up a bubbly, happy-go-lucky attitude, Erin from 3 was cold and calculating, Myles made the Avox servers look talkative and Iris was playing the cute, adorable little girl. After that, I switched off. Right up until it was my turn, of course. The moment they called out my name, the crowd went mad, screaming in excitement as I pushed myself to my feet, grinning mischievously at the audience and stepping forward to talk the hand Caesar offered me.

Game time, Blake, I sighed exasperatedly to myself.

"Blake Hart, everybody!" he called loudly, and the crowd roared. I made a mocking curtsy in their direction with a small smirk, which only made them scream harder. Caesar laughed good-heartedly. "So, Miss Hart, how are you finding the Capitol?"

The whole audience was instantly hanging on my every word. I laughed easily, tightening my hand in his. "Oh, very quaint," I chuckled, and the audience laughed along with me.

"Well, isn't she cheeky?" Caesar breathed with a wide grin, and they roared their agreement. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we were rather looking forward to your score this evening, and you didn't disappoint, did you?" I laughed and faked a flush when the crowd screamed my name, smirking back at them confidently. "Can I ask, how on Earth did you pull a twelve out of the bag?"

"Caesar, you know I can't tell you that!" I retorted with a chuckle. "Wouldn't want to upset the Gamemakers before the Games even start now, would I?" My stomach twisted sickeningly when the crowd laughed back at me again, and my free hand clenched tightly behind my back in anger.

"Oh, not even a little hint?" he pouted.

"Sure," I shrugged with a smirk. "I can grantee you'll all see it in the Games tomorrow." Caesar gave another hearty laugh and the crowd cheered.

"Okay, okay," he said, waving for the audience to calm down. "Now, we all know you as a tough, confident kid, but it wasn't always this easy for you, was it?"

Easy? EASY? I wanted to scream at this man that today was the most difficult day of my life. But I couldn't say that. I couldn't even scowl at him angrily. Instead, I had to grimace with a heavy sigh, letting Caesar take my hand pitifully again. "No, Caesar, it wasn't," I agreed quietly.

"Ladies and gentleman," he said, in a heavy tone that set my teeth on edge. "You, and many of the others watching from the Districts, are probably wondering how such an astonishing young girl came from District 11. Am I right?" Again, they shouted their approval. Caesar turned to me seriously, his eyes shining.

I took a deep breath and scanned the audience. Chaff and Seeder were sat off to the side, with Circa and Klaus. They nodded at me encouragingly, but my eyes drifted back and settled on the District 4 mentors. Mags was staring back at me with shining eyes, and beside her, Annie was gazing up at the stage with shock, her hand wrapped through Finnick's, who was, for the first time, frowning. Nothing compared to Ione, however. I could see her shaking, her fingers twitching on her lap, and her crystal blue eyes were dulled in fear and panic. Looking at her made me stronger. Not for her, but in spite of her. She was the reason I was here. She was the reason my life was such a mess.

"That's because I'm not from District 11," I declared in an easy voice, without a trace of the fury I felt. The audience gasped in shock as I turned back to Caesar with a small smirk, then gestured toward my dress. "Care to hazard a guess, Caesar?" I questioned jokingly.

He looked mildly startled, lifting a hand to his chest, and the audience laughed fondly at him, clinging to our every word. Keeping a hold of my hand, he wandered around me and took in the dress thoughtfully. "I think you look stunning, my dear," he beamed, and everyone cheered again.

"Oh, I think everyone knew that, Caesar," I ventured with a short laugh. Again, my comment was met with roaring approval.

He lifted a finger to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. "Let me see . . ." he trailed. "The blue dress, the long train . . . oh, it looks a little like water, don't you think?" The crowd cheered and clapped, but a few that had finally caught on gasped in shock. Caesar's eyes widened. "Ah, ha! Water! That's it, isn't it?"

I nodded. "I'm actually from District 4, Caesar," I conceded, and the audience gasped a third time, whispering furiously amongst themselves.

"And how did you come to be in 11, can I ask?" he continued, shushing the crowd with an excited look. They all suddenly seemed to be leaning forward in their seats.

I sighed heavily, flicking my eyes back toward Ione. She was pale and shaking, but I managed another tight grimace as I turned back. "It was the Capitol," I told him, gulping hard and clenching my fist again. "I . . . wasn't safe in 4. They saved me."

The lie was a hit the moment the words had left my lips. Said with enough sadness and conviction, I could almost convince myself that it was the truth. Some of the crowd cheered, some let out sympathetic noises, and some clapped loudly with a whistle. I smiled, forcing my expression to seem grateful.

"Oh, well, we look after our own, don't we?" Caesar asked the enthusiastic crowd. They roared and cheered and applauded, and all I wanted was the ground to swallow me whole. Kill me, a voice in the back of my head pleaded. Just kill me now and get it over with.

My face must have fallen, because all of a sudden, Finnick Odair was glowering at me through the crowd. 'Smile' he mouthed at me persistently. I gulped hard and looked away, straightening my expression as Caesar turned back toward me. "But that isn't all, is it Blake?" he said sadly, holding my hand in both of his. "Miss Hart here is none other than a daughter of one of our very own Victors!"

More excited whispers, and I faked another smirk and curtsy with growing difficulty. My eyes flickered sideways to Ione. She stared back at me silently, her eyes shining and I took a deep breath, winking once back at her. She looked slightly startled, but when Caesar Flickerman straightened out with a large grin, she caught on. "Ladies and gentleman, Ione Porter!"

The spotlights landed on her, and remarkably, she was the picture of calm. I tried not to look too surprised when she stood up to the sound of the roaring crowd, smiling and nodding in recognition. Caesar laughed. "And who could forget such a wonderful Victor?" he declared. "And who thinks Blake is our next Victor?" More cheers, and I grinned and curtsied again. "Well, good luck, Blake Hart, and we'll see you in the Games!"

I tightened my hand in Caesar's, and planted a kiss on his cheek, before turning back to my seat, where the Careers were gawping at me and most of the other tributes were staring at me in fear. Myles frowned, but nodded once at me, and beside him, Iris smiled with a small wave. Layton was staring at me, stunned, but suddenly, he was being called up onto the stage. I winked at him once for encouragement, then settled myself back down in my chair.

But the Capitol crowd was still calling my name, and I knew, in the whole of Panem, they were the only ones . . .