CHAPTER TWO
IKE
The goodbyes after the reaping seemed too short. He instructed Mist and his mother on what to do after he was gone. He was badly worried for them. Mist made him promise to do his best to win, and he did.
Edward came to see him. He thanked Ike for volunteering in his place, and asked him to take care of Mia, if he could. It seemed like a strange request, considering that, in the end, only one of them could possibly make it out alive.
And much to his surprise, Titania Kilroy came to see him.
Before he could say anything, she spoke; "I know we haven't really met before, so I wanted to see you in person before you left."
"Did you know... of me before?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes. I knew your father quite well, before he...disappeared. He was a good friend of mine, and so was Elena. My son... spoke of you often, as well."
Jason Kilroy had been reaped the previous year. He'd survived until day eight, when he was killed by the favored tribute, a hawk girl named Sofia, and so his death had been televised live through the whole thirty-four agonizing minutes of the hunt and kill. Ike had known Jason, before he was reaped. He'd been a nice boy, Ike's age, and one of his only friends. He couldn't imagine how terrible it must have been for her to watch him die.
"I'm...sorry." he said softly. He couldn't think of anything else he could say, either.
"It's all right." she replied. "What's done is done, and my grief won't change it." She stood up then, turning to leave. "Well...good luck, Ike."
"One question." he said suddenly.
She glanced back. "What?"
"Were you... in the Hunger Games?"
Titania paused, then nodded. "Yes. Twenty years ago. I was the District Eleven mentor for ten years before Shinon came along." She paused again, then added "I...I'll take care of Elena and Mist. Make sure they're eating. It's the least I can do, for... not being there before."
It was as a weight had been lifted off Ike's shoulders. "Thank you."
She nodded again, then left as the Peacekeepers came in again.
Ike disliked trains.
He only ever saw the trains that came at the end of autumn every year—the trains that took away the food they'd slaved away to grow and harvest but never got to taste—and the Tribute Train, the train that took away the innocent boys and girls for the Hunger Games. As such, trains represented the Capitol and all the darkness that Ike associated with it, so he naturally disliked them.
He had to admit, though; it was nice. A bedroom, bathroom, and dressing area, all to himself. He'd never had this kind of privacy or comfort before. Not that it made his situation any better, or changed his feelings about the Capitol, but at least when he lay down to try and sort out his emotions, it was on a clean and comfortable bed.
Ike had been lying there for awhile when he vaguely remembered Aimee Larabel saying something about dinner in an hour, before he came in here(about an hour ago). His mind was no clearer than it had been before, his thoughts still jumbled about Mia, about the Games, about Mist and his mother, about Edward and Lucia and Ilyana, about the crowd's silent protest, about Titania Kilroy. Everything was so confusing; it was literally an effort to force himself to get up.
There were drawers against the wall that he knew were filled with fine clothes, but at that moment he didn't feel like wearing anything Capitol-made. He went into his bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were slightly red and shadowed—had he been crying? He hadn't noticed, if he had. He hoped it hadn't been on camera. Other than that, his hair was a mess and he realized that his headband was unraveling at the ends. With a reluctant sigh he pulled it off and tossed it aside, then went into the other room and dug through the drawers until he found a black shirt. He ripped off a good part of it and used that in place of his old headband. For a moment, he wondered what the Capitol attendants would think when they found that, though he didn't really care. He checked his pockets and pulled out the Yune pin; he paused for a moment before pinning it on his shirt. Then he left his room, walking carefully through the narrow rocking corridors to the dining car.
Mia and Aimee were already there. The escort greeted him in her usual cheery manner, but Mia was unusually quiet. Ike sensed she was angry, but he didn't want to talk about it in front of Aimee, so he was silent as he sat down.
"Where's Shinon?" Aimee asked cheerily.
"Drunk." Mia replied darkly. "Somewhere." Aimee was obviously relieved at his absence. Apparently she didn't like him much, despite having worked with him for the past ten years.
The dinner came in courses, and it was all Ike could do not to stuff himself. The food was much richer than anything he'd ever eaten before, and of course there was a lot more of it. To his surprise, though, Mia ate relatively little. After he'd finished, though, Ike guessed maybe she'd realized that this stuff was a bit too rich for them. He felt positively green.
They went into another compartment to watch the replay of the rest of the day's reapings. They found Shinon was already there, slouched against the wall half-asleep with an empty bottle next to him. Ike vaguely wondered if it was the same one from earlier. Aimee made a disgusted little noise and pointedly ignored him.
The program started, and the three of them settled down to watch. Ike watched carefully the faces of the boys and girls who would be their competition. He found himself feeling either sorry for them or visibly angry. The lions from District 2, for example, he disliked. The tall, powerful boy and the relatively thin but strong girl(he vaguely registered their names as Skrimir and Sakira) were both very obviously Career Tributes, or Careers—tributes who secretly and illegally trained for the Games all their lives, in one of the few districts where winning the Games was actually considered a feat of honor and glory. The District 7 herons, however, were quite the opposite. Both of them were pale and emaciated, and both looked terribly frightened. The white-winged girl—Leanne something—almost cried on the stage when she was reaped, and for good reason; Herons were the weakest of all the laguz, and usually died during the bloodbath on the first day. If being called in 11 was a death sentence, in 7 it was all the worse—sometimes the Careers even let them survive the bloodbath, simply so they could chase them down and kill them later, make it look better on camera. It was always horrid, gruesome, and tragic. Poor girl.
Only a few other faces and names stood out in his mind. A boy in District 1, Kurth—he looked young and small, but the black dragons came out ahead in the Games more often than not, since 1 was a Career district. A hawk boy, District 3, with a damaged wing. The District 4 raven girl, with green hair, beautiful black wings, and a sly smile as she volunteered; Vika Swift, a Career. The herons from 7, of course. They showed District 11; Mia volunteering for Mist and Ike rushing to volunteer for Edward, pushing the younger boy out of the way, Mist being dragged back, the silent protest. The commentators weren't quite sure what to say.
And then the most haunting and memorable reaping beside District 11; District 12. Lowest of the low; the cursed, the Branded. The girl's name they called was Kita Kadohl and she barely looked older than Mist, but this girl was even thinner, pale and drawn, her long dark blue hair shadowing her face as she stepped forward to take the stage. When the escort—a fairly young man with green hair, Sothe Deyan—called for volunteers, all that could be heard was the wind. Then, Sothe called a boy's name—some dark-haired teen who refused to look up—who had barely reached the foot of the stage when a raven-haired boy in the back stepped past him to volunteer. When they asked for his name, he gave it as Zelgius Kadohl. Ike realized he must be the girl's brother. The commentators said as much. He looked just a bit older than Ike himself, maybe eighteen or nineteen, though from the aging differences he was probably closer to twenty-five, and when he shook hands with Kita he didn't let go of hers, but stood by her protectively.
"Why'd he do that?" Aimee asked loudly as the program ended. "Volunteer, I mean."
"He wants to protect her." Mia said suddenly. Ike glanced at her curiously. "She's small, weak. He probably wants to keep her safe in the arena."
"Too late."
The three of them glanced over at Shinon. He was fully awake, sitting with his knees drawn up and his arms resting on them. "They're in the Hunger Games now. If they don't get to her first, he'll have to kill her."
"But... he wouldn't kill his own sister, would he?" Ike asked before he realized he was saying it.
Shinon laughed. "You never know what the half-breeds are up to." Then he got up and stretched, his eyes half-closed. "Now, I'm going to bed."
The three of them watched silently as he left the room. Then Aimee left as well, warning them to get some rest before tomorrow.
"Why?" Mia demanded as soon as the escort was out of the room.
"Why what?" Ike asked, slightly confused.
She put her hands on her hips. "Why did you volunteer?"
He paused. "I didn't want you to lose him. Or for Lucia and Ilyana to have to watch him die." When she was silent, he continued; "You know he would have died, Mia. He's only twelve—he's like that girl, Kita Kadohl. He wouldn't have lasted past the first day!"
"So it's better that you're the one to come, and be the one I'll have to kill?" she asked coldly.
"No..."
"So you plan on killing me."
"No! I—"
"He wouldn't have died, Ike. I would have kept him safe. Just like Zelgius Kadohl will protect his sister."
"Mia, you can't deny that—"
"Because believe me, Ike; there's only so far I would go in the Games. Family is too far. I... I'm glad Edward's safe, and I'm glad that Mist is safe, but don't you see? Now we're going to have to kill each other!"
"I won't!" Ike insisted. "But just think for a moment, Mia! Even if you'd managed to protect him until the end, one of you would still have had to die! And what about Lucia? Ilyana? What would have happened to them if they lost you and Edward?! What would it do to Lucia if she had to watch both of you die?"
She looked at him, her eyes sad. "That doesn't matter, Ike! Don't you see? If I don't win, they won't be able to hunt. Who'll teach them, huh? You? You could be dead on the first day, and me too. If that happens, Ilyana and Edward will have to take tesserae next year, and then it could very well be them in the arena next year. And now... because of you... Mist will have to take tesserae, too. You realize that, don't you? If you don't win, she could very well be in the arena next year."
"The same thing applies to you! You volunteered for Mist!"
"Yes! If I don't win, then Edward or Ilyana might be reaped. We both have something to lose now... both of us!" She choked slightly, trying not to cry. "And—and—how can I choose b-between you and them? H-how can I?" Then she fled before she broke down entirely.
Ike clenched his fists so hard his fingernails cut into his skin, leaving bloody scratches down his palm. It hurt, but far less than her words had, because she was completely right.
ZELGIUS
I have insomnia. Which is to say, I can't sleep.
It's always hard to sleep the night after reaping day. Usually one of the ones reaped is someone I'm familiar with—I knew just about all the boys that were reaping age a few years previously; some of the previous tributes were my friends. In recent years, I've lost almost all my friends, and have suffered insomnia merely because I hate the Hunger Games, hate that the Humans could do this, could force twenty-four innocent children to fight each other to the death and no one has any choice about it.
How ironic that I am a part of those Games now. That I can't sleep tonight because I am the reaped boy, the one who won't be coming back. And Kita, too... My poor little sister, barely eighteen years old...!
I can't get used to the motion. There's either too much or too little, I don't know which. The train moves so quietly you can almost forget that you're actually moving, speeding towards the Capitol—the Human Capitol, where I'll be dressed up and polished for display, like a jewel, or a rare animal in a cage...
Kita is silent next to me. We're so used to sharing a bed, having only one back home for the two of us for so many years, that she insisted on coming over to mine. I think she finds my presence as comforting as I find hers. She's asleep now, thank goodness; she'll need her rest in the days to come. I figure I'm not going to sleep anyway, though, so I swing my legs over the side and get up, quietly leaving the compartment.
The train is still maddeningly quiet, except for the light snores of Sothe Deyan from his room. In front of the large window on the side, however, there's a slim silhouette. I'm a bit surprised as I recognize her. "You're awake, too?" I ask.
Micaiah Deyan, victor of the 200th Hunger Games, the only living District 12 victor, and the wife of our escort, turns to regard me with sad golden eyes. "I was enjoying the moonlight." she replies quietly, trying to smile.
I walk forward to join her. It's odd to speak to a forty-six-year-old woman who looks younger than me and regard her as my mentor, but that's what she will be for the Games, at least in name. She's retained an elegant beauty about her despite her age, but that's only expected for a Branded with very evident draconic and heron blood. Her silver hair is a little disillusioning. "It is rather peaceful." I say. "To think that in less than a week, twenty-four relatively young boys and girls will be murdering each other for the Capitol's entertainment..."
"It's best not to say such things." she warns, turning to look out the window again. The distant lights of District 6, home of the Wolves, can be seen in the distance. "You never know who could be listening."
"Of course." I say.
We stand in silence for a moment. I find myself looking at the red mark on her right hand, the delicate intersecting streams that make up her Brand. It's actually kind of pretty, but almost everyone views any Brand as a mark of disgust. "Still..." she suddenly says.
"What?"
"I cannot help but agree with you. The Capitol truly is a cruel master. Especially for those...like us."
"Why are we called the cursed?" I ask, drawing a curious glance from Micaiah. "What is it about the Branded that makes all others scorn us, despise us?"
"We scare them." she says. "We represent something they cannot even begin to understand. So they fear us, as they fear all that is unknown. They are all no different... the laguz, the beorc, the humans. But what can we do?"
"I don't know." I say, looking back out the window. The city lights are an unnatural mark on the otherwise dark and foreboding night. "What can we do?"
"Nothing." she says. "Nothing at all but try to survive."
"Like the Hunger Games."
We stand in silence for a while longer. Until the lights of District 6 finally disappear.
IKE
The next morning, after a shower—a peculiar thing he'd never experienced before, like standing in rain but warmer and faster—Ike dressed in a black shirt and pants that had been laid out for him, then wandered down to the dining car.
The other three were already there. Aimee was sipping coffee and muttering darkly under her breath; Mia was wearing an outfit similar to his and making up for last night's restrained dinner; and Shinon was slumped on the table, sleeping in a puddle of spilled wine, which was probably the reason for Aimee's mood.
Ike sat down without invitation and was immediately served an enormous platter of food, most of which he couldn't identify. Despite that, he ate like he'd never see food again. It was a habit of his. Mia ate much more passively, breaking off bits of roll and dipping them into a drink Aimee called hot chocolate. She didn't speak, and when Ike tried to look her in the eye she'd noticeably averted her gaze. So he didn't speak either.
Ike started to feel ill again and finally pushed his plate away. Shinon snorted slightly and slumped further sideways, causing the chair to tip and spill him on the ground. Aimee wrinkled her nose in distaste.
Mia watched blankly as Shinon righted his chair and sat down again, pouring himself a new glass of liquor. "So... you're supposed to give up advice." she said slowly.
"Here's some advice. Stay alive." he said with an obvious lack of conviction, downing the glass in one gulp and falling forward on the table again. Aimee winced.
Ike was thoroughly disgusted. When their mentor absently reached for the bottle again, he reached over and knocked it over, shattering it on the expensive rug. Liquor soaked into the carpet and shards of glass went flying; a few somehow got his hands, drawing blood.
Aimee gasped. "That rug is worth more than your house!"
Shinon blankly glanced at it. "Look, you killed the rug. How nice." He casually reached over for another bottle.
Mia's arm shot forward and she grabbed his wrist, slamming it down on the table. Aimee gasped again. Mia braced herself for him to retaliate, but to her surprise he did nothing.
Shinon glanced back between the girl holding his wrist down and the boy with the bloody hands. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost in a smile. Then he shot a stern look at Mia and she released his arm. "All right. I'll make a deal with you." he said gruffly. "You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly as I say."
"Fine." Ike replied, equally gruff.
"So help us!" Mia said eagerly. "When we get to the arena, is it best to—"
"First things first." Shinon interrupted. "In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station, and you'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You aren't going to like what they do to you, but don't resist."
"But—" Ike began.
"No buts. Don't resist." Then Shinon got up and left the car, the door swinging shut behind him. Aimee looked at the glass on the rug, horrified, and then darted out of the room after him.
Ike and Mia stood silently for a moment. Then Mia silently picked up a napkin from the table and offered it to him. He took it and wiped the blood from his hands while she used another napkin to dry off some of the blood that had dripped down his shirt. "Are we going to listen to him?" she asked quietly as she did so. The first time she'd spoken to him all morning.
"Do we have a choice?"
She shook her head, and when she spoke again her voice was hard and cold. "No. We don't."
Neither of them spoke for a long while. Ike tried to extract the glass from his hands, biting his tongue to avoid crying out. She went to the window and watched as the train entered the Capitol, as the crowds pointed up at them in excitement and the elaborate Capitol buildings flashed by.
"Ike?" Mia finally asked.
"Yes?" he replied.
"I... In the arena." she said hesitantly. "I won't... try to kill you. But I won't ally with you, either. Alright?"
He frowned slightly. "You won't try to kill me, but you won't ally with me. I don't understand."
"I promised your sister I wouldn't kill you." she said quietly. "And you volunteered to save my brother, and I... I am glad for that. But... I can't be your ally, because then it might come down to just us and then I would have to try to kill you. And I don't want that. Does that make sense?"
Ike nodded carefully. They felt the train slowing for the station. "I understand. For our siblings... we'll have a cease-fire. Deal?"
They shook hands on it as the train stopped. Mia didn't even notice the blood. "Deal."