A year after the interview in the Capitol with Caesar Flickerman, I found myself in a small and peaceful village. I glanced around—to the north stood a large and dominant palace. To the south stood a rather elegant yet humble house—I'd seen better fancier ones—in fact, I owned one in Victor's Village. Someone grinned at me and said, "Cinderella? What can I get for you?"

I turned and murmured, "I'm not Cinderella."

I added under my breath, "Whoever that is."

Then the real Cinderella arrived in town. I studied her and realized I looked identical to her—the only difference was in what we were wearing. She was dressed as a maid and I was dressed in traveling garb.

Someone asked, "Cinderella, who's the girl over there?"

She stared at me and then yelped, mostly freaked out by the fact that we looked identical to each other. "Who are you? Why do you look like me?" she demanded.

"I'm Nightlock, but if we're going to be friends, call me Lockie. And be warned—I'm as deadly as my name. I have no clue," I answered.

Then I asked, "Where am I?"

"Nanthia," she replied instantly.

I nodded.

She asked, "Any siblings?"

I glared at her and she fell silent. Then she grabbed my arm. "If anyone can explain our freaky resemblance, it's Stepmother," she said eagerly.

This girl was really annoying and too perky for my liking. I nodded sullenly.

After she finished her shopping, she inclined her head and motioned as if to say, "Come on, Lockie."

I quickly followed her to the house on the south side of town.

As we walked, she begged, "Promise me you'll behave."

I rolled my eyes and said, "Promise."

Then I added, "Of course I'll behave. Who do you think I am—Johanna Mason or Katniss Everdeen?"

Cinderella glared at me. I glared back at her. We reached the house and I quickly changed my expression to neutral—the same expression I wore on Reaping Day.