My guest quarters may be the most glamorous prison in existence.
There are rich rugs and tapestries everywhere. The bed is enormous, and the headboard is gilded and sculpted with flowers. I run my fingers over the carved flowers in awe. Opening the closet door, I drop my bag on the floor. It's nearly another room in itself. I can walk inside, and there's a mirror taller than me with an ottoman I could lie down on in the center of the floor. Shoes and dresses line the walls. Everything looks elaborate and uncomfortable.
The only thing betraying the opulence is the lock on the door. A thumbprint scan and keypad code are required to get in an out. Mine only works to get in. I can't get out without secondary authorization.
The attendant who had showed me down the hall to my room mistook my alarm when I saw the ID pad. "Oh don't worry," she laughed with her Capital cadence. "They open automatically in the case of fire. And you'll never be alone anyway, so you don't have to fret about that."
That wasn't my fear, but now I wonder if Snow will disable the safety protocols and burn my room down. Either way, I'm trapped here until I die, I think numbly. And she's right. I haven't been alone for one moment since we arrived.
The attendant flits around the room, chirping out buttons to call for tea, food, entertainment, how to open curtains, how to work the shower and what time dinner is served. A knock at the door stops her annoying voice.
"Oh, that must be your guardian now."
"You're not my guardian?" I say in surprise.
"Oh no!" she giggles. "Just one of many housekeepers. Your guardian is an esteemed governess. She's excellent at grooming young people for public life."
When I see the hard-faced woman walk in the door, I almost miss Effie Trinket. This woman is stern and unyielding. Her eyes have no light in them, only cold determination. I hate her before she even speaks.
"Miss Everdeen. I am Enobaria Cloister. You will call me Mrs. Cloister." I open my mouth. "You will speak when you are addressed." I close my mouth.
She nods to the attendant, who scurries out of the room and closes the door, locking me in.
"As you have had no formal training and your breeding is questionable, we have a great deal of work to do to make you presentable as a suitable wife for a head of state. You clearly lack the grace of the late Lady Amaranth and from your previous interviews I know you lack the conversational skills of both President and the young master Snow. This is unacceptable and will be corrected."
My hate simmers.
"The first thing that must change is your clothing. Your outfit is atrocious. Go find a suitable afternoon dress in your closet."
I stomp over to my closet room, toeing my pack with my boots and belt hidden inside as far under a pile of petticoats as I can. If she found it, she'd throw everything away. "Mind your poise and posture!" she barks as I shove the dresses right and left.
I have no idea what to wear for an afternoon dress. They all look the same to me. I pull down a seafoam green shift dress with a yoke studded with small amber stones. I hold it up out of the closet.
"That is an informal social engagement dress. Unacceptable."
I hang it back up on the rack and furrow my brow. I find a blue dress with puffed sleeves and a train. She barks that is for estate dinners. She rejects the yellow one-shouldered sheath as private evening wear and the pink skirt with the polka dot blouse as sporting event garb. I want to scream. I have no idea what she wants, and every event she describes sounds terrible.
What did Lady Amaranth used to wear? I close my eyes and focus. Soft colors. Delicate fabrics. Something gentle. I open my eyes and skim the line of dresses.
I spy the soft grey fabric tucked behind an explosion of hot pink tulle. I gently tug the hanger free and pull out the calf-length A-line dress in storm cloud grey. Buttons run to a ribbon belt and the sleeves are short but loose. I hold it up out of the closet, peeking around to see her reaction.
"You are progressing."
I change my clothes and find a pair of matching kitten-heeled pumps. She makes me wash my face, insisting I look filthy and unkempt. She calls for a makeup artist to teach me how to manage my skin.
When Octavia arrives with a cart of supplies, I leap up and run to her.
"Katniss!" she squeals, opening her arms.
The rap on my outstretched arm is painful. Enobaria is at my elbow, a long wand-like wooden stick clutched in her fist. "We do not run or squeal," she announces with slit eyes at me, then Octavia. "Pigs squeal."
"She's my friend," I object.
"She's your makeup artist. And you will greet your employee with decorum and grace. Now curtsy."
My reunion with Octavia is muted and unpleasant. Enobaria refuses to leave for even five minutes, so we can't speak of anything I want to. I ask after Cinna and the rest of the prep team, but can't get the details I want with a chaperone present. I solemnly watch her apply pale lipstick, a sweep of blush, mascara and powder my face.
"Thank you, Octavia," Enobaria says dismissively. "You may go now."
Octavia glances at me. "Um. Thank you, Miss Everdeen," she says stiffly. "I hope to serve you again soon."
As she goes without a hug, without a wave, I begin to understand the loneliness in Peeta's voice.
Enobaria turns to me. "Now. Tea is served in half an hour, so we will practice your poise and conversation skills until you are sent for."
When the knock comes to the door, the books have fallen off my head four times and I've had my knuckles rapped six times for poor grammar. "Mrs. Cloister? Tea will be served in the drawing room presently," I hear Quarry say to her from outside the door. I wonder if no men will be allowed to set foot in my room again.
Enobaria leads me out the door and I listen to the doors lock behind me. My eyes dart around the hall. I can't tell which doors lead outside; everything looks the same. The heavy wooden doors are as identical as the ones in the hallway to the conservatory. I wonder if I should make a run towards the opposite end of the hall when I spot the armed Peacekeepers rounding the corner as they pace the hall. I am trapped.
We round a corner.
"Portia?" I blurt out her name before I remember my lesson. Enobaria elbows me in the ribs. I ignore her.
Portia looks tired. She's standing outside a room with a ceiling-high door, thumbing through a tablet with great concentration.
"Kat-Miss Everdeen," she smiles weakly. "So good to see you again."
I stare at her. "I thought…I feared you had…lost your post." I measure my words carefully, casting glances at my guardian.
"Thank you for your concern," she says with equal stiffness. "I was chastised, but Master Snow was able to preserve my employment."
Enobaria scoffs. "Which is more than you deserved, I understand." Portia wilts a little. My governess turns to me. "If you expect you will receive the same leniency from me or anyone else here you are grossly mistaken."
She knocks harshly on the tall door, ignoring Portia, who turns her eyes back to her work. The door slides open slowly.
"Ah, Miss Everdeen. Welcome to my home."
Snow is seated at a glass table with ornate, gilded legs. An elaborate silver tea service is laid out on the table. Peeta sits at the place next to him, his trademark smile returning to his face as he sees me.
I take one step forward towards the table and feel Enobaria's icy fingers on my wrist. I glance at and she eyes me sternly. "You will wait to be invited."
"I see Mrs. Cloister has already begun your etiquette lessons," Snow chuckles as I glare at her. "She can be very…thorough. Please sit," he says as he gestures to the open space by my soon-to-be fiancé. "You may go, Enobaria. I will have Miss Everdeen delivered back to your care after tea."
I am released and Peeta and Snow stand as I step to the table. I allow an attendant to pull my chair out and slide it in under me. The men sit as I do, and I unfold the napkin into my lap to wait for further instruction.
"Well, as you will be my daughter-in-law," my skin crawls at his words, "I think we ought to get better acquainted."
Peeta interrupts politely. "Katniss is a connoisseur of plants," he attempts. "She assists her mother with herbal remedies."
"Do you?" Snow says with a bored air.
"I am less skilled than she," I recite my lesson awkwardly. I don't want to talk about my family.
"They use aloe to treat burns," Peeta says eagerly, dropping two perfectly white cubes into his tea and stirring the steaming drink with the smallest spoon. I take note frantically: Use the tongs for sugar. Smallest spoon for stirring. "Apparently it's very soothing. I think Pollux should grow some here in the gardens."
"Now, now," Snow chuckles. "We have no need of primitive cures, my boy. The Districts are not as advanced in medical treatments as we are."
Peeta frowns. "I was meaning to suggest…Maybe…we should have a hospital built in the Districts. Three's industries could certainly support medical technology."
Snow's smile flickers ever so slightly. "Their industry is focused on technological advancement of weaponry, Peeta. Not medicine."
"But why not expand?"
"Expand?"
I'm surprised as well at Peeta's eager brazenness.
"Couldn't they do more? If we reduced funding the weapons testing on what was District Thirteen we could build a hospital in Three and maybe a smaller clinic in Six as well. I was actually working on the numbers during my math lessons, and with only-"
"We will not reduce the testing," Snow says ridigly. "The security of our nation depends on our advanced technology. Do you think the Districts are prepared to defend themselves against invaders? Do you think they are trained for the kind of warfare we are? No, they're not. Because their focus should be on the industry so ours can be on defense. I will not hear this suggestion from you again."
Peeta slumps back in his chair. "Yes, Father."
The attendant pours tea and I grab the cup, finding a reason to avoid conversation.
"Is that Amaranth's pin?"
I suddenly remember moving the pin from my pullover to the grey dress. "I gave it to her," Peeta says quickly. "When she left the Capital."
Snow's eyes are locked on the pin. He seems entranced by it. "It becomes you," he says finally, smiling.
"Thank you," I manage.
A knock at the door announces a highly decorated general. "Ah, Halperin. Have you come to join us?" Snow begins to smile, but the expression on his adviser's face halts his pleasantries.
"Sir," the man called Halperin nods. "Master Snow. Miss," he bows again to Peeta and I. "Your presence is needed in the Executive Assembly."
Snow stands quickly and throws his napkin on the table. The warmth of the afternoon sun cannot reach his ashen and angry face. He leaves without saying goodbye, the attendant following at his heels. He pushes Portia back in the room roughly to watch us.
As the door slams, a painfully awkward silence settles over the three of us.
"Dandelion tea," I note. "From your garden?"
"Katniss, I am sorry, I never meant for-" he bursts out, the words tumbling forth. "Portia, can…can I have a minute?"
She smiles at him. "Oh, Peeta. You always ask." She stands and walks to the opposite end of the room to stare out the window, lost in her own thoughts.
He draws his chair closer to me. "Katniss, I'm…I should have…" he struggles. "I don't know what to say."
"There's nothing to say," I say blandly.
"I just…I can't say I didn't want this," he confesses, as though embarrassed. "I wanted you here. Or to be there with you. Just…But I swear," he meets my eye. "I did not do this on purpose. I know you had a life in Twelve."
"And now I have a life here," I force out with a smile.
He sighs, eyeing me. He leans in close, turning his lips to my ear. He lowers his voice so Portia won't hear him. "Will you be happy here? With me?" His breath tickles my ear. "Please tell me."
What do I say? Confess I want to go home? That I never intended to see him again? I can't. Even if he did let me go, would Snow would hunt me down if I broke his son's heart? I imagine the sort of "accident" that would befall me. Or my family. Most certainly Gale-after what Snow suspects.
"I am happy," I lie. I turn to smile at him. "I'm happy."
Portia steps over to the table and clears her throat. He's sitting very, very close to me. "Sorry," he mutters. "I'm sorry, Portia," he begins again. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble either."
"I thought they'd…I thought you-" I can't say what I want to about his father in front of Peeta. Luckily I don't need to.
"No, no," Portia soothes. "Peeta stood up for me. He was very gallant," she smiles at her charge.
"It was my fault," Peeta insists. "The falsified logs have my security clearance all over them; they know you had nothing to do with it." He turns back to me. "It's my fault," he repeats. "I screwed up erasing the logs. I didn't think there was a backup server here. I…just didn't think."
"Will my family be all right?" I ask him. He furrows his brow. "I mean, I don't want them…chastised for my indiscretions."
"I'll see to it personally." He suddenly smiles. "Maybe…we can call them? To let them know you've arrived safely?"
Portia glances at the phone that sits by a decorative writing desk under a window. "This isn't your room," she says, relaying her meaning carefully. This phone is bugged.
"It will be a quick call," he plays along, standing and gesturing for me to follow him. "Just to say she's here and safe."
I gratefully dog his heels to the desk. He lifts the phone and I notice he dials the phone number even I didn't know by heart. He hands me the receiver.
"Hello?" my mother's voice is frightened on the other end.
"Mom!" I force myself not to sob when I hear her break. We are being recorded.
"Oh Katniss," she cries. "Are you all right? Is everything-"
"Peeta suggested I call and let you know I arrived safely." I apply a strange rhythm to my words, barging in to keep her from saying anything precarious.
"How thoughtful," she recovers. "It's nice to hear he's concerned for your family."
"He is," I whisper to her. "My room is incredible. It's larger than our house," I say enthusiastically. "The clothing and food is outstanding. You'll be so surprised at my…wedding." My stomach muscles contract.
"Your wedding," my mother breathes mournfully. "My little girl."
"I should get back to tea," I look up at Peeta watching me. "I don't want to interrupt the schedule."
"Of course not," my mother says.
"Give Prim my love. Say hi to my cousins."
"I will. Katniss."
"Yes?"
"I love you."
"I love you too, Mom."
The dial tone buzzes. I hand him back the receiver and Peeta hangs up the phone. I stare at the shiny black phone.
I lie awake in the overstuffed bed. I'd barely gotten used to the soft bed in my Victor's home. I'm used to the cot Prim and I shared; the floor of the cave where I found shelter; the tree I shared with Rue.
I roll over on my stomach and stare at the moonlight leaking in under the curtains. In the winter, hunting with Gale, the moon would still be out when we'd get to the woods before school The night would be silent and frozen, every move an animal made would resonate back to us. I wipe my eyes. I push the memory from my mind.
I roll on my back and stare at the ceiling. It was warm the night Peeta showed me the conservatory. The stars were dimmed from the city lights. Not like the night in the meadow. Where we could see every star in the sky.
He'll be my fiancé in three months. Not so much a stranger, but so much I don't know. I know he's kind, I remind myself. I know he cares about me enough to risk his own standing with his father. I know he can love. I know he still reveres his devoted mother. I know he wants more for this country than his father has given it. But I still don't know plenty. About what my life will be like here, away from my family and friends, from green fields and tall trees and fresh air.
The despair is only just tugging at me, but I can see how years of this would drive Amaranth to drown herself. She was already drowning here.
Days crawl by as though time was made of molasses. Even during quiet reflection times, I am not alone. I'm nearly mad with boredom when a surprise arrives.
"Cinna!" I blurt out in surprise. Enobaria raps my knuckles with her switch.
"Miss Everdeen," he bows to me with a warm smile. I want to run and hug him, but I can see my governess is waiting for another slip up, her wand itching to strike my hands again.
"What are you – what brings you to the President's home?" I remember my careful wording, practiced for hours.
"Young Master Snow's birthday is tonight," he says gently. "I've been summoned to present a suitable dress for your announcement."
I hadn't realized the time had passed so quickly. I'd been here two weeks already. It was hard to tell what day it was when every day was the same. Wake up. Outfit carefully selected. Hair and makeup lesson. Breakfast delivered, cleared. Lessons about the country. Lessons about diplomats. Lunch delivered, cleared, doors locked again. Lessons about presentation. Lessons about living a public life. Tea with Peeta and his father, largely silent or at the least uncomfortable.
Tonight I would be announced and then from each day forward, I'd be joining them for lunch and dinner. I'd at least be allowed to be seen in public with Peeta now, with our chaperones. We'd be able to talk again. Maybe I'd be able to get to know better him before our wedding.
"I'd nearly forgotten with all the excitement," I say dryly. I see him suppress a sad laugh. "I'm sure you've selected something marvelous; your designs are always inspired."
Cinna bows again. "You are too kind, Miss Everdeen."
"You are too modest," I curtsy.
He gestures for me to take a seat. He turns to open a wheeled trunk two attendants have hauled in.
"First and foremost, no red or black," Enobaria interrupts. "She's not to look like a tart."
I roll my eyes. I wore nearly only red and black last year throughout the Games. Now apparently it's not good for my presentation?
"I thought that since he first met you in this," he says as he pulls out the pink dress I wore to my Victor's Reception, "we should follow the same lines. As a gesture towards the moment you fell in love." I appreciate the look of apology he gives me when saying this.
His creation is breathtaking. A pale silver dress in the same fashion as the pink dress, but with a straight necklace. "For added modesty," he nods to Enobaria. She bows her head in approval. The gauzy sash that ties around the waist is studded with sequins and tiny clear beads, and the straps are twisted gauze. It falls with a small train in back, but rises ever so slightly in the front. "So you can dance," Cinna tells me. "I'm sure you'll be celebrating late into the night."
"It's incredible. Of course," I tell him.
"The shoes," Enobaria says, "must be of a reasonable height."
"Of course," he says. He digs through the trunk and hauls out two pairs of shoes. "These sandals are about two inches tall-"
"She shouldn't be showing toes in fall," Enobaria insists.
Cinna glances at me. I can't believe she's testing the patience of the most tolerant person I know. "Well, then I think you'll be wearing these."
I take the smoky pumps from him. "Are they…clear?" I eye the color as it seems to change in my hands.
"They're a bit tricky," he says. "They're smoke colored, but they will pick up the colors around them and shift colors. I designed them myself."
"Amazing," I murmur, turning them over again.
"Thank you," Enobaria says in a barely gracious voice. "Please summon your prep team to ready Miss Everdeen for her announcement."
Enobaria has me strip in front of the mirror and I realize that prep teams and stylists must have great liberties here. I imagine it's because so much importance is placed on how I look, not how I feel. She begins to yank the dress over my head when Cinna returns and offers to assist. He very gently slides the dress over me and I tune out Enobaria while I see him adjust straps, tie the sash, and press a pin between his lips as he sews final alterations to make it fall perfectly.
When Flavius, Octavia and Venia arrive, they can't help but gawk. I do look incredible.
"He's going to fall in love all over again," Flavius purrs as he drops my hand into a bowl of warm soapy water and fishes out a toolkit of files and polish.
"It's the perfect compliment for your eyes," Octavia grins and she scrubs moisturizer on my face.
"Wait until you see the wedding dress," Venia squeaks as she combs my hair. She claps her hand over her mouth. "Oops! I'm sorry Cinna! I forgot I'm not supposed to say anything."
I tear my face away from the women and look at Cinna. "You've already started? He hasn't even proposed."
Cinna looks at where Enobaria sits engrossed in a magazine. "I was told the wedding would follow the engagement very quickly."
"How quickly?"
Enobaria answers without looking up. "One week."
My jaw drops. "A week? But that's…so fast."
"Well, Master Snow has the disposal of the whole country. Why wait?" she shrugs and turns back to her magazine. "I understand he's already designed the cake personally with that…chef." She sniffs her disapproval of Chef Sae. I've met the unkempt and overly cheerful woman before on a tour of the kitchen. When I learned her family was from Twelve I immediately liked her, and as immediately Enobaria did not.
Octavia clucks. "Oh, how sweet. I bet soon he'll be designing the nursery!"
For a moment I imagine running to the conservatory, breaking a glass wall and tearing across the garden grounds. I calm my racing heart.
"I wouldn't be surprised," I smile at her.
I'm standing at the entrance hall again. It's only been three months, but it seems like that Victor's Reception was years ago. Everything is the same. I must be different.
Enobaria stands by, bored and listless. She will have to maintain her distance from me during the party; I have to appear to know what I'm doing. I'm nervous. I shift my weight on my high heels.
"Do your feet hurt?" Peeta asks quietly as we wait to enter the ballroom.
"No, I'm just anxious to get inside."
"Me too. My birthdays are usually pretty boring, but now that you're here," he blushes, "it will be interesting."
I hear them announce the President and turn my face back to the entrance curtain. I hear his voice take over the loudspeaker. He thanks the audience for coming, says a few words about how proud is to share this day with such distinguished guests. He calls for his son to join him on stage.
Peeta checks to make sure Enobaria isn't watching and squeezes my hand. "See you in a minute."
The microphone squeaks as he takes it from his father. He thanks the guests for coming again and lets their applause fade. Then it's the moment I've been anticipating. Maybe dreading. "I have a very special announcement this night. I know there's been speculation about my…attachment to a certain Victor." There are tittles of excited laughter through the crowd. "I'm very pleased to announce, on this very important day, my companion and the object of my affection, Katniss Everdeen."
"Affection!" Enobaria huffs. "What inappropriate language."
My eyes are looking at her, but my mind is still on the word affection.
"Well, go on."
I follow her instructions and step through the curtain. Just as before, an explosion of applause greets me. The flashbulbs are blinding and I again raise my hand to shield my eyes. I remember to smile and wave. I see a group of well-dressed girls flanked by what appears to be their wealthy fathers glaring at me. I say a silent thank you to Cinna. I do outshine them all tonight because of him. I look worthy of royalty.
A hand reaches out and catches mine and I see Peeta's smile through the blinding flashes. He leads me over to the dance floor while the photographers take thousands of pictures. I wince when I see the displays of food along the wall and know how many starving children in Panem could die tonight while the Capital celebrates their native son.
"You look radiant," Peeta beams as other couples move around us.
"Thank you," I demur. "You as well."
"I asked Cinna to touch up this suit," he admits. "I didn't want to look too bad next to you."
I can feel myself blushing. "Don't be ridiculous," I smile.
"I'm not!" he protests happily.
He spins me around and I laugh when I slip a little. "I don't think I practiced dancing enough."
He scoffs. "I told them you didn't need any of that. You're perfect as you are."
"Now you're absolutely being ridiculous," I tell him.
"I didn't fall for you because of your waltz," he smiles.
The musicians finish their song and we applaud. "Let's eat something, I'm famished," Peeta suggests and takes my hand as he leads me to the banquet table.
"Katniss! Yoo-hoo!"
"Oh no," I mutter under my breath before turning around. "Effie! My you look…unbelievable."
For a moment I think it's a live bird struggling to free itself from the disaster of blue curls rioting over her head. When I look harder, I realize it's a little mechanical doll flapping its wings.
"Does it look so life-like?" Effie comments proudly. "I tried to get a real bird but Venia said it would only mess in my hair. And apparently you can't refuse to feed this endangered species or something."
I'm gawking at her so Peeta fills in the conversation. "I'm so glad you could make it. I know you're busy getting ready for the tour."
"Oh yes! There's so much to do now that you're joining us," she gushes. "They've added your cars to the train this morning."
"Cars?" he asks with eyebrows raised.
"Sleeping quarters, your recreation car, a study car," Effie lists out cheerfully. "They had to modify those supply cars quite a bit!"
Peeta huffs. "What's wrong?" I ask.
"This is exactly what I mean," he sputters. "These aren't just unused cars lying around, they're supply cars that go to the Districts," he says as he turns to me. "It's nearly winter and it's going to throw off the food and fuel deliveries for half the Districts yanking those cars to fill with books I'm not going to read in two weeks." He furrows his brow. "I'll be back."
He heads towards his Father. Effie and I are entranced watching him.
"He is…unusual, isn't he?" Effie murmurs with a furrowed brow.
"He is," I breathe.
Snow looks annoyed at whatever Peeta is saying to him, and when he responds Peeta is not pleased with the answer. He dismisses his son with an angry wave and then turns his back resolutely to address a group of dignitaries. Peeta frowns and glances over at me. I give him an apologetic shrug. He sets his jaw.
I watch him march over to Portia, who is laughing with Cinna at a table of pink and green striated dessert glasses. He nods and says something that makes Cinna smile and bow. He whispers something in Portia's ear. She looks as though she's going to protest, but his pleading looks makes her concede and nod. He smiles and takes her hand in both of his. I read his lips say thank you before he returns to my side.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Oh, I had to get a little creative," he smiles as he rejoins us. "Don't worry about it." He turns to Effie. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"
Effie is a lively addition to the table and I track down Cinna to beg him to join us to keep me from laughing at her hair or clothing. Portia is genuinely surprised to be asked to sit with us, but does so graciously. She sits next to me and compliments my dress.
"It's all Cinna," I eye my stylist. "He could dress up a goat and pass it off as a princess. Oh!" I cover my mouth. "That wasn't a ladylike thing to say."
Peeta drops his fork and covers his face. I glance up nervously until I realize he's laughing so hard tears are streaking his cheeks. It starts me off laughing and then Portia and Cinna join us. Effie looks more surprised and confused about the idea of a goat in a dress.
Peeta gasps for air and uses his napkin to wipe his eyes. "We should have your sister's goat up for the ring bearer," he laughs. "We can dress her up and no one will notice the difference."
"Oh Katniss," Effie sighs. "I'm so happy for you! And to think last year you were nearly unsalvageable."
I again have to try not to be too insulted by Effie Trinket. "Thank you," I grit out.
Peeta's trying not to laugh and I glare at him. "She was always wonderful," he protests through his giggles.
"You certainly thought so," Portia grins into her wine glass. She catches me glancing over at her.
Peeta blushes furiously. "Portia…"
"Oh you were so obvious," she laughs. She turns to me and scoots her chair in. "He never watched every night of the Games before you, you know." I glance over at surprise. He stares at his plate in appreciative embarrassment. "But this year, every night we had to watch you and see how you were progressing. I've never seen you attached to anyone like that," she smiles fondly at him. "I can't imagine how much of your fortune you spent on that antibiotic when Katniss got sick from the polluted water."
I knock over my champagne glass. "You sponsored me?"
He's pale now. "Portia!" he hisses, glancing around the room quickly. She covers her mouth and looks over her shoulder.
"You can't tell anyone," he leans in to me. His eyes dart around the table. "No one can speak a word of this." He looks back to me. "It's forbidden for Capital staff to get involved in the betting and sponsoring," he whispers. "I don't want them to revoke your winnings."
The table shares an uncomfortable silence before Effie breaks in to talk about the latest fashion trend with Cinna. He mentions he saw a design of mine with antlers and thinks it'll catch like wildfire. They immerse themselves in the conversation but I'm still wrapped up in this new discovery.
I lean in ever so slightly. "Thank you."
Peeta glances over.
"You saved my life," I tell him. "I would have died without that medicine."
He doesn't answer, just stabs his fork at a tomato with blue leaves.
"Why did you send it? You barely knew me then," I murmur.
"Because…you sang to Rue," he whispers, eyes on the tomato as it rolls away from the fork tines.
A tapping glass announces the arrival of the cake from their adjoining service kitchen. Peeta smiles as he sees me gaping at the towering confection.
"Do you like it?" he asks, as he leads me by the hand down to the cart wheeled in by three waiters.
"I've never seen anything like this," I breathe. It's four layers tall and painted in the most beautiful colors. Candles sparkle as they burn spring from each layer. "And those flowers, there's so realis-" I stare. "Are those katniss flowers?"
He grins. "I've been taking lessons with Sae. She let me help make this."
I'm torn between staring at him and staring at the cake. Both are unbelievable.
"Make a wish." I look up to see President Snow standing opposite us at the cake. He smiles proudly at his son. "Make a wish, Peeta."
Peeta thinks for a moment. A few audience members call out in agreement for him to make a wish. He smiles and looks at the gathering around us.
"I don't need to. I already have what I wanted," he says, looking at me. The flashbulbs burst into light as he leans over and kisses me.
I'm blushing as he blows out the candles and the audience cheers. I know I'm being videotaped. I know I'm being photographed. I know this will end up in the mandatory viewing news hour for all of Panem. But I can't stop my smiling. Or laughing when he puts a sugar formed katniss flower between his lips and pulls me to the dance floor. Or letting my arms float around him as we dance and talk for hours.
Dawn is breaking when Enobaria escorts me back to my room. "You performed adequately," she says in her typically gruff tone. "Your grammar and posture both need further attention, but it appears that no one doubted you had the capability to behave as a lady should."
"Thank you," I sigh, rolling my eyes in the dim light.
"I expect you to remember your teachings. I don't want to be recalled from my next engagement to correct your behavior."
"Your new engagement?" I nearly walk into the door as she enters her security code at the panel.
"Yes, now that you've been announced my work is completed. I have other charges lined up," she states, opening the door and ushering me inside. "A mayor's son, I understand. Four years old. A much better age to begin this sort of training. It takes better."
"Who will look after me now?" I ask, walking inside my room. I nearly kick off my shoes right there before realizing this is what she was referring to. I force myself to glide to my closet to use the ottoman for balance.
"Some previous Victor's been hired to guard you, I hear."
"Guard me?" I call from the closet.
"You're a public figure now," she calls back. "It's far more dangerous for you to be out and about. She'll spend a few weeks with you getting to know the schedule and then accompany you on the Victory Tour. That way she'll know how best to guard you by the time you both Mentor the Quarter Quell."
"Who is she?"
"That Victor from Seven. The one who likes axes."
I rack my brain. There's only been a few Victors from Districts other than One and Two. Seven had a handful of male winners from the boys that worked in the lumber industry with their families. But the girl who won a five or six years ago…I can't remember her name.
"Jasmine? Josephine? Something like that," Enobaria shrugs off. "Some common name."
"What's she like?" I ask, tugging my dress off and searching for my nightclothes.
"She's your guard, it doesn't matter what she's like."
I sigh. I guess I won't have a friend here after all.
Curled up under the blankets, I breathe a sigh of relief. The anticipation of this day had worn on me, but now at least one hurdle is over. I'm officially attached to the heir of Panem. No more hiding in this room and torturous lessons. Just a Victory Tour left. Then a wedding.
I roll over, trying to fight the panic. He's not unkind, I remind myself. I like him. He's caring and intelligent. He dotes on me. He'd be a good father. But the fear stirs again. I'm not ready. I'm still afraid. But I have to be ready. I have to look out for Prim. For Gale.
I fall into a fitful sleep.