This chapter is shorter, but it packs a punch. Same goes for the next one, which shouldn't be too far off, if fate is on my side.
Many thanks to my beta, Chelzie.
He'd changed. And she'd changed.
No matter how much Katniss tried to deny it, they'd both changed. Peeta had never laughed in her face like that, in blatant mockery . . . at least not intentionally, not to injure and embarrass her. Being deep into his cups was no excuse. He had to have known how he'd made her feel.
Very few moments since he'd returned home had been like old times, like the old Everlark. Damn, that dining room incident! Why had it created anarchy in their relationship? Why did it have to ruin everything?
As for Katniss, she had never kept secrets from Peeta before. But here she was, in the woods with Gale, doing just that. Ever since her spat with Peeta in the hallway, she'd begun sneaking out of the house at dawn for archery lessons with her chum. How exhilarating to wake up with nature, to fill her lungs with the dewy morning scents of pine and bark, to hear wings flapping as birds chased one another, and to creep through veils of mist and laced nets of branches. Gale was a fine teacher, and in the past five days, she'd caught on quickly to his instructions.
What wasn't exhilarating were the clandestine looks he constantly gave her, when he thought her oblivious. It had been years, so of course, he was different, too. Older. Smarter. So very heedful of her movements and strangely preoccupied with her face. Gads, what did he find so fascinating? What was wrong with her?
Today, she watched him target a squirrel and hit his mark. His focus, patience, and speed amazed Katniss. Like a child, she hankered to knock him out of the way and exclaim, "Let me try!" She didn't enjoy being idle, but she behaved.
As they hiked back into town, employing one of Gale's secret routes, Kat's olive suede skirts beat a rhythm against her legs. Her partner had been unusually quiet for the last two hours. During their previous outings, they'd conversed and caught up on the missing years, but not on this occasion. Had she done something to offend him? It wouldn't be her first time insulting someone, over the course of her career as a human being.
As they reached the border leading to the main street, which linked the Seam, the merchant shops, and her neighborhood, they paused. Shrouded by trees, no one would see them together, would see them say good-bye and go their separate ways. Awkwardness wriggled in, though Kat didn't know why. Maybe now that he'd had time to mull it over, what she'd done to humiliate Deliah had finally caught up to Kat, and it soiled her in Gale's eyes. Her behavior had been out of character. Apparently, she'd changed as much as Peeta had.
Peeta . . . Gale.
Gale stared down at her, the lazy shadows of leaves speckling his countenance. Kat opened her mouth to make some inane comment about the squirrel in his game bag, but her friend silenced her. With a kiss.
He dove in, his lips smashing into hers with such force that she stumbled back. His hands caught her elbows, steadying her, as his mouth softened. A chaste thing, this kiss, her first kiss. Pursed and sudden and rather clumsy, but . . . not terrible.
Before Kat could decide whether to explore, to kiss him back, Gale leaped away. "I had to do that," he said. "At least once."
Like any thoroughly confusing young man, he fled, leaving her there gaping like a hooked fish, her lips even more chapped than they were before. Gob-smacked, Katniss glanced around, momentarily forgetting where she was. And then remembering in the worst possible way as her gaze stretched across the road.
Deliah Cartwright.
It was only a second. Those flinty enemy-eyes, which then shifted away as the girl jostled by in a carriage, accompanied by her mother.
Foreboding sprang into Kat's chest and chilled her to the bone. Had the dragon just seen her with Gale? Had she seen? It happened so fast. Kat couldn't be sure, especially considering that Deliah's expression hadn't changed. No shock or elation to have witnessed the scandal. No malice.
And the foliage was thick. And the carriage had been quick in passing.
No, Deliah hadn't seen. It had been Kat's imagination.
kpkpkpkpkp
She sped home, frazzled by the kiss and a precarious brush with the apocalypse. The further she walked, the calmer she became. The leather gloves that she'd chosen for the hunt, with charming laces up the wrist, had gotten stained with muck. Evidence.
She peeled the garments from her hands and stuffed them into the pocket of her cape before scaling the rear fence of the Mellarks' townhouse. Migrating through herb beds and lemon trees, her pace slowed along one of the narrow paths. Despite the racket of a gushing fountain, her ears picked up the sound of a throat clearing. Her nostrils detected his Peeta smell.
Katniss stopped beside the gazebo, where he leaned against its white crisscrossing frame. He looked like a servant, with his wind-tossed hair, his wrinkled shirt and trousers. Through the early-hour fog, beams of sunrise glinted off his hair, yet sacks of purple drooped beneath his eyes. His features twisted with exhaustion and remorse.
Sometimes he came to the gazebo to think, so this meeting had to be a coincidence. He hadn't caught her slinking back into the house. The fact that he wasn't suspicious or irritated told her so.
Katniss ground her teeth, despite the pain slashing through her, because his baleful puppy face would not work this time. She stormed away, her cape snapping around her limbs.
She heard him rushing after her. "Katniss," he pleaded. "Katniss, wait!"
Curse him. His voice. His broken voice.
Katniss whipped around. "I'll apologize to Deliah," she bit out. "I know what I said wasn't right, but what about you?" She stabbed a finger at Peeta's chest, almost making contact because he'd gotten that close. "You've avoided me since that thing happened between us. You didn't escort me to my own party. You showed up late. And then you left early with Finnick. You left me. On my birthday. The callous boy who arrived in the woods with Deliah and glared at Gale, and the sloshed boy who mocked me in the hallway—that wasn't you. Where's the sweet Peeta that I grew up with? Where's the wily Peeta that I cherished? Where's the Peeta who would never hurt me? Where is he?"
"Katniss—"
"No, don't bother making amends. Don't feel obligated on my account. I'm not your responsibility anymore."
He winced as she threw his repellent words from the hallway back at him. "Katniss, listen to me. Please!"
That last word came out with a desperate little crack, preventing her from leaving for a second time. She waited, fixing him with the stoniest expression she could muster under the weight of those infernal blues.
Peeta drew in a breath. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Kat. Our friendship . . . it hasn't felt the same. I was . . . embarrassed. I was embarrassed about the dining room. I was jealous about Gale. You were right about that. And when I learned he used to be your best friend, that you'd just found each other again, it cut me. I was angry, confused . . . I don't know. I was just so jealous."
"You spent a year away from me, with Finnick. How do you think that felt?"
He stepped nearer. "But I wrote to you constantly. You were always in my heart."
Katniss crossed her arms. "I know," she mumbled.
She did know. To be fair, Peeta had devoted most of his life to her, had done whatever she asked, jumping eagerly whenever she needed him. Yet she kept harping on him for the twelve months he was gone, as if he couldn't wait to leave, which hadn't been the case. Touring Panem was what gentleman did when they came of age, as a rite of passage. It hadn't been Peeta's harebrained idea or his choice, and although he'd had fun with Finnick, he hadn't wanted to go. In fact, he'd tried for weeks to get out of it, but Mr. Mellark and Effie hadn't budged.
The night before Peeta left, as they held one another in his bed, he and Kat both had tears streaming down their faces. And yes, his letters to her had been frequent. And long.
"You've been acting differently, too," Peeta said. "I never thought you'd say something like that about Deliah. It confounded me even more, and she deserves an apology, but you deserve one, too. I shouldn't have left your party. By the morning, I'd turned myself into a drunken ass. I was defensive and said things I didn't mean."
She spoke to his double-knotted bootlaces. "They say when one's foxed, the truth comes out."
He cupped her face, and she let him, because he was Peeta, and because she wanted him to touch her. "Please don't believe it," he said. "Not every truth comes out. Sometimes, it's the opposite: It makes lying easier. You're not weak, Katniss. I know you better than that. I know you can take care of yourself. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His forehead landed against hers. "I fouled things up, with the one person I care more about than anything in this world."
He's said as much about his feelings before, on the veranda at Deliah's charity. And over the years, as they grew up, Peeta had been her ally. The only person besides his father who showed confidence in her, who encouraged her independence. The naughty one who proudly got into scrapes with her. The boy who had faith in her abilities and saw more worth in her than she saw in herself.
That was the boy looking at her now. That was the Peeta she knew.
They moved at the same time, wrapping each other in a hug. His petal soft shirt brushed her cheek, and his hand stroked her nape, making her eyes drift shut.
"I don't feel responsible for you," he avowed. "That's not what I feel. Not at all."
Katniss's heartbeat tripped. "What do you feel?"
"You're my best friend. My family. My light."
"And you're mine." She leaned back. "We can put this behind us. We can forget."
He shook his head, his voice low and tender. "I don't want to forget. I don't want to forget anything where you're concerned. I want it all."
Her breath seized in her throat, but she tried to shrug it off. She had no business getting her hopes up.
"Where are you coming from?" he asked as they released one another.
Guilt ran its awful course. If she wanted to put things right, this was her chance to tell him about the hunting trips with Gale. However, her tongue couldn't seem to agree. She couldn't bear to lose the calm they'd just reached. She didn't want to risk another quarrel. A lie was easier to construct since she didn't have her bow with her, since Gale only wanted her to observe during the first stage of her lessons.
She confessed to Peeta that she'd been walking in the woods, but not why or with whom. "Don't tell Mr. Mellark. I just wanted to do something for myself."
Peeta cocked his head. "Alone?"
When she answered yes, his features relaxed. He was threatened by her history with Gale, as if it had been longer than her history with Peeta, which couldn't be further from the truth.
"You'd like Gale, if you gave him a chance," she said.
Peeta thought about that and nodded. "I was wrong not to trust your judgment before. If you say he's a good man, I believe you." He stretched out his hand. "I'll do anything for you."
Kat knew what it would feel like to press her palm into his, because she'd felt it nearly every day since they were eleven. He would be downy and warm. His grip would be solid, anchoring her to the day, but not too tight that she couldn't free herself. Locking her fingers with Peeta's was like grasping freedom and home all at once. It was like holding a hundred different choices, a thousand memories.
But right then, what she wanted more than touching him, was the sight of him reaching for her. She wanted to delay the moment of contact, just for a moment, to gaze at his calloused fingers trembling. His hand waiting for hers. The offering. The possibility.
The what-ifs. What if she ran her thumb across his? What if she linked their pinkies together instead? What if she took him and never let go? What if the touch triggered a new sensation? Something unforeseen?
Such disarming thoughts. Frightening ideas. Temptations.
Her fingers met him halfway. They sighed, goofy grins sweeping across their faces as they strolled back to the house.
kpkpkpkpkp
They spent the weekend together. They spread a blanket in the meadow and watched the sun rise, drifting into a comfortable silence as the morning poured over the landscape. In the past, Peeta would cradle her back against his chest, tucking her into him. But he didn't this time, which she both appreciated and missed. Despite their joy, she sensed them teetering on a thin, invisible line, as though one wrong move would clip it in half. It motivated them to be careful, measuring the meanings and consequences of each word, each gesture, each look.
Still, they basked in the hours, determined not to waste them. Kat stole glances at Peeta's profile, how the orange-pink light washed over him. She began to appreciate things she hadn't before, in more intimate ways. The threads of his lashes. The way his left arm flexed as he leaned his weight against it. The stubble around his lips. That narrow waist and how it shifted toward her.
She felt him admiring her, too, whenever he thought she didn't notice. Sneaky boy.
They swam in the lake and tried to head-dunk one another. As children, competitiveness used to consume Katniss. After she'd taught him to swim, all she'd wanted to do was beat him at some game, or slap water in his face, or pretend they were pirates. Or, at fourteen, she'd tugged down his pants when he wasn't expecting it and then cackled.
Now she found herself on the verge of going mad. It was all she could not to melt from the sound of his labored breaths, not to leer at his wet lips and even wetter chest, not to blush everywhere his gaze lingered on her, at the places where her soaked undergarments clung to her flesh, not to burn with excitement as his hand grazed her hips, as he grabbed her and flung her across the water. They played, but the playfulness seemed more intentional. The touches seemed calculated, excuses to be close without being close.
If Peeta's body experienced the same problem that he'd suffered in the dining room, she couldn't tell. That didn't stop her from wondering. What would it be like to feel the hardness again? To wrap her legs around his waist and float in place with him? To comb through his soaked curls?
A terrible ache pounded between her thighs. Katniss plopped her scorching face beneath the water to calm herself.
Sloshing out of the lake, still in their drenched underclothes, they got into racing position and counted down. Then they sprinted to see who would make it to the blanket first. As Katniss gained on him, she unleashed a lengthy, mighty scream of determination. A battle cry that had the golden flash beside her laughing all the way to the finish line.
They got dressed—partially. To her dismay, Peeta slipped on his trousers but remained shirtless. She got as far as one layer of petticoats and her corset before digging into their basket of cheese buns. Her damp hair hung in wild layers over her shoulders, and as she licked cheese off her fingers, she caught those blue eyes riveted on her. All of her.
He glanced away, his teeth tearing through another bun. They waited out the troublesome moment until it passed. Once it did, they retreated back into the safety of their friendship, lying next to each other, making jokes and talking for hours, then savoring the sunset before going home.
On Sunday, they visited the shops in town. At the clockmaker's, they twisted the knobs of a dozen wind-up clocks, setting them to go off at the same time, then trotted out of there, giggling as the devices began to rattle, startling the customers and enraging the shopkeeper. They indulged at the chocolaterie, swooning over thick hot chocolate.
In the afternoon, they traveled to Finnick's house for a round of poker with him and Johanna. Finnick dealt, a cigar poking from his mouth as he wooed Katniss with his shuffling skills, the cards whizzing and biting the air. When he offered her a smoke of her own, she decided that he wasn't half bad, as far as rogues went.
Kat and Peeta regaled their group, reminiscing about a night when they'd sneaked into a gentleman's club, when they were fifteen. Kat had dressed in Peeta's clothes, and they'd lasted about an hour at the gaming tables before being caught and kicked out. As they recapped the tale, finishing one another's sentences, Finnick and Jo swapped amused glances, trading some secret knowledge of which Everlark was apparently ignorant. It puzzled Kat, but she refused to dwell on it. She was having too much fun.
That night, Peeta and Kat climbed to the rooftop of the Mellarks' townhouse and stargazed. Blissfully worn out from the weekend's activities, she rested her head on his shoulder and drifted, only vaguely aware of him carrying her to her bed.
As he covered her in a quilt, she mumbled something, to which he whispered back. A single word that bled into her dreams.
kpkpkpkpkp
Monday morning, Katniss floated into the kitchen. Peeta had gone to the bakery with Mr. Mellark at the break of dawn, and she saw no need to eat by herself in the dining room, so she bypassed a formal breakfast and went in search of Greasy Sae.
The room stretched ahead of her, bustling with activity. A knife slammed into a cutting board. Plates clanked together. Cooks and kitchen maids and scullery maids scampered about, dodging one another and dunking beneath overhanging bronze pots. The smell of bread sailed through the air, flour coating the countertops and floor.
Kat also caught a whiff of onions and eggs. Yum!
Swapping "Good morning's" with the cooks and maids, Kat skipped over to a basket of strawberries and proceed to steal. Popping the fruit into her mouth, she hummed with pleasure.
The next berry was plucked from her fingers. Greasy Sae dropped the morsel back into the basket and then set her fists on her hips. "One more illegal bite, and I will toss you out of here like a sack o' beans."
"What are you talking about?" Katniss inquired with mock innocence. "I was looking for you, I swear. The basket just got in my way."
Sae shook her head fondly. "And you felt obliged to empty it, did you? I wager Peeta's return has increased your appetite."
"You have no idea," Kat mumbled, recalling the sight of Peeta wet and panting in the lake.
"Oh, I have some idea," Sae remarked, no doubt referring to a more platonic version of Everlark. "You could have rung for breakfast. I'd have sent one of the girls up with a tray."
"I'd rather eat here."
The woman blushed. "You're just saying that because nobody else is home."
"I like your company. You know that."
Sae did her best to mask her pleasure, but Kat winked all the same. Growing up with the Mellarks, she and the chef had swiftly established a bond, from the time eleven-year-old Kat crept into the larder at midnight and accidentally locked herself inside. Perhaps it was her Seam roots, but constant hunger swam in her blood. That night, she'd been on the prowl for plum jam and had failed to mind the storage door's latch. Greasy Sae, who fancied midnight snacks just as much, heard Kat crying for help and found her.
To calm Katniss down, Sae served her biscuits and the jam Kat had wanted so badly. Like Effie, the older woman had a stern way about her, quick to give Kat a blunt talking-to whenever she needed one. But whereas Effie was the uppity great aunt, Sae was like a humble one.
Kissing Sae's cheek, Katniss grabbed a scone from a platter and blithely headed to the rear of the kitchen, where she'd be out of the servants' way. Tonight, she had plans to attend the symphony with Peeta and Mr. Mellark. Ah, it was the start of a beautiful week, and nothing could spoil her jubilant mood. Everything was lovely. Lovely, lovely, lovely.
Copies of the Capitol Chronicle and the D12 Post rested on a chair. Katniss picked them up and sat, discarding the Chronicle but keeping the Post on her lap. She flipped through the pages, opening to the scandal sheets as she chewed.
Then she proceeded to choke. The scone clogged her throat, crumbs spouting from her lips and pelting the black text marching across the page. She bent forward, wheezing. Despite the suffocation, she refused to die this way, most likely turning purple, flapping her arms like a crow, and hacking as though she had a fur-ball wedged down her windpipe. No, she was too infuriated to die.
Sae dropped the spoon she'd been holding and dashed to Kat's side, tailed by the rest of the servants. "Katniss! Oh heavens, Katniss!"
After one of the cooks performed some kind of maneuver, in which he seized her around the middle and thrust her toward the ceiling, the chunk of scone catapulted across the room. Sucking up a mouthful of air, Katniss grabbed the paper again, crushing the margins in her fists as she reread the square of text smack-dab in the page's center.
Noteworthy and Notable: It appears that 12's own Miss Katniss Everdeen has taken her interest in wildlife to a new level. According to a secret socialite insider—we shall call her DM—the Mellark family's young ward was seen at the stroke of dawn two days ago, exploring the woods with Mr. Gale Hawthorne, also formally of the Seam. One wonders if the wily debutante is revisiting old roots out of charity, a bout of homesickness, or something more. DM would say the latter, based on that kiss she'd witnessed. However, as to the true state of affairs: Only time, and lips, will tell.
Katniss cursed up a storm. "That spawn of Satan! That . . . that . . ."
Oh, she knew who tipped off the paper. The initials were a code: Deliah Mellark.
Shot taken. Retaliation achieved. Payback for what Kat had said at her party and a cheeky prediction of what the future held. Deliah wanted to destroy Katniss and worm her way into this family. Into Peeta's life. Into his bed.
Red hot rage surged up Kat's throat. That and fear, because by now, the whole town had read this.
Peeta had read this.
I'm sorry.
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