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Night Before the Games
Waiting on the Edge

President Richmond Hyde

"I am so terribly sorry, Mr. President," Cornelius Juniper apologized for what must have been the tenth time. "Everything just got out of control. It won't happen again, I promise."

Hyde shrugged. "Why not? The audience loved it. That's all that matters in the end – they were entertained."

Cornelius stared, dumbfounded. "So you … you don't care that he said I loathe the Games? That I just want these two weeks to be over?"

"Is he right?" Hyde asked, studying his companion. A moment of silence told him all he needed to know. "Cornelius," he said with a heavy sigh. "Do you really think it's your job to like the Games? No. Your job is to make the audience like the Games, and you do a superb job of that. It's the audience's job to like the Games. It's Helius' job to make the Games. And it's my job to make the districts terrified of the Games. Stick to what you do well, Cornelius."

"And what's that?"

"You help the audience connect to the tributes. You can make one tribute look better than another with a well-timed word. A sarcastic remark can turn a winner into a loser. Make no mistake, Cornelius – you help create Victors." He smirked a little. "So make it a good one."

Jade Floren
Mentor, District One

Hazel caught up to them after the interviews. It didn't take Jade long to guess what she wanted. He and Angus headed to their quarters, leaving Hazel and Abstract to their memories.

"Now, remember," Jade said one more time, settling down on the couch next to Angus. "Everyone thinks you're an adorable little kid. One well-timed surprise, and they'll know you're a killer – and then they'll flock to you. Pick your moment carefully, and don't hesitate."

Angus nodded. "I won't."

"And get some sleep," Jade added as the boy headed off to his room. It was pretty standard, obvious advice, but he knew how hard it was to follow.

About ten minutes later, Abstract joined him, looking oddly subdued. "What did Hazel want?" Jade asked.

Abstract shook her head. "Not much. She just wanted to say thank you … because if Mosaic hadn't spared her, she would have died six years ago."

"And he would have won," Jade finished. "You can't make his mistake, Abstract. Don't spare anyone – no matter how harmless they seem. You have to be willing to kill anyone."

Abstract nodded. "I am."

Jade hoped she was right.

Vester Pierce
Mentor, District Two

He hated this part.

There was really nothing he could say, except the one thing he'd been saying to tributes for years before the Games. "I'm sorry," he said wearily. "I am truly sorry."

There were so many things he wanted to say, instead. I'm sorry that I probably won't be able to save either of you. I'm sorry I probably won't see either of you again after tomorrow morning. I'm sorry I chose the Capitol's side in the rebellion. I'm sorry I had a part in your deaths.

But all of that only sounded self-pitying and wouldn't help anyone, least of all the two teenagers in front of him, waiting for some last words of advice. "Try to get some sleep," he said at last. "It's the last time you'll be able to sleep soundly for a while, so make the most of it."

Equinox nodded; he hadn't been expecting anything more substantial than that. He headed to his room, leaving Kiona and Vester alone.

"Are you really sorry?" Kiona asked.

Vester looked away, trying to pretend the question hadn't wounded him. Trying to pretend he hadn't worked out the reason for Kiona's attitude towards him. The attitude any rebels had towards him…

"Yes," he said at last. "And I promise you, Kiona, I will do my best to keep you alive."

And he meant it. Because maybe – just maybe – this was his chance. A chance at forgiveness. At redemption. Because if he, Vester Pierce, former Capitol soldier, could cheat the Capitol and bring a rebel soldier through the Games alive, then maybe he could begin to forgive himself.

Maybe.

Mayberry Florence
Mentor, District Three

Every year, Mayberry tried to remind herself not to get attached.

It never worked. Despite herself, she'd grown rather fond of her young charges, and couldn't bear the thought that, very soon, at least one and probably both of them would be dead. There were tears in her eyes as she bid them goodnight, and she had to turn away as they headed to their separate rooms.

"Mayberry?" a small voice asked. The girl, Lina. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course, dear," Mayberry nodded, trying to put on a smile.

"Why did you volunteer to be a mentor? You obviously don't like it."

Mayberry stared, taken aback. This little girl was about to die, and she wanted to know why Mayberry had decided to be a mentor? "I…" She hesitated. "If you'd asked me nine years ago, dear, I would have said that I wanted to have the privilege of training a victor. I would have said that it was an honor to be part of the Games. I would have wondered why anyone wouldn't want this job."

Lina nodded. "And now?"

Mayberry looked away. "Now? I just want to be able to say – just once – that one of you children didn't die. That once – once – I was able to save a life." She shook her head. "But if you win, it won't be thanks to me. It'll be thanks to each other … and a bit of luck."

Lina shook her head. "A lot of luck, probably."

Mayberry nodded and wrapped the little girl in a hug. "Then good luck, Lina. And get some sleep."

Mags Pharos
Mentor, District Four

Mags had never felt quite so young.

The night before her own Games had been a nightmare, of course, but, in its own way, this was worse. A year ago, she'd only had to worry about herself. Now she had two lives in her care, and, for the moment, there was nothing she could do. Nothing except give advice, which Mars, at least, seemed to think he didn't need.

He was probably right. He was two years older than her. Trained. Prepared. And the strategy she had used during her Games wouldn't suit him. Ella, on the other hand, sat with Mags on the couch. "They seemed pretty adamant about heading for the Cornucopia," Ella said hesitantly, talking about her allies. "I tried to tell them what you told me, but—"

Mags nodded. "I expected that. Hazel tells me that Cahra's got quite an attitude. I had this same conversation last year with Zale."

"Your district partner?"

"My ally. My … my friend. He said we should charge in, grab what we could, and run. I wanted to skip right to the running part." She shook her head. "He never stood a chance, Ella."

"And neither do we? Is that what you're saying?"

"I don't know, Ella," Mags admitted. "I only know what worked for me. I ran. I waited – until the fight came to me. But I can't say that's the only way to win; just look at the other victors. All different. And we all survived." She shook her head. "Truth be told, anything I say now isn't going to matter one bit when you see that Cornucopia tomorrow. You'll just do what your instincts tell you to do – and that's okay. Listen to them. They'll keep you alive."

Ella nodded. "I'll do my best."

Mags smiled a little. "So will I."

Tania Fray
Mentor, District Five

Harakuise had already fallen asleep.

Or, at least, he was lying on the couch with his eyes closed, breathing slowly, unmoving as Brie and Tania sat in chairs nearby. Brie was fidgeting, nervous, and Tania found it hard to blame her. "I don't want to kill them, Tania," Brie said at last, quietly.

Tania nodded. "I know. And you probably won't have to, Brie. Chances are, someone else will kill them first, before it comes down to just you."

"That's the thing – I don't want anyone to kill them." She looked up at Tania, shaking. "Sterling – he has a daughter. She's three years old. Zione and Lordez – they volunteered to save someone else's life, just like I did. But they've already saved them – the people they volunteered for. That little girl's brother, Lordez's friend – they're safe. Jai is only safe if I win." She took a few deep breaths. "I just hope I don't have to be the one to kill them."

"I have a hard time picturing you killing anyone," Harakuise observed, startling them both. "I can't even picture you killing me, and it's clear how much you despise me."

"I don't—"

"Don't," Harakuise interrupted. "Sure, I did you a favor, arranged for your brother to be accused of treason, but that doesn't change what you've heard about me. You don't trust me for a moment – and you're right. But I still can't picture that distrust turning to enough fear or anger to actually slit my throat or choke the life out of me." He opened his eyes and looked at Brie. "I've worked with a lot of killers, Brie. You don't strike me as the type."

Tania scoffed. "Well, I probably wouldn't, either."

Harakuise smiled – an odd, unnerving smile. "Actually, you would. That look in your eyes even now – you're terrified. People do things when they're afraid. Things that would normally be unthinkable."

Brie raised an eyebrow. "And you don't think I'm afraid?"

Harakuise shook his head. "Not yet."

Aron Meldair
Mentor, District Six

He couldn't help smiling when Prius hugged Pike goodnight.

She still didn't understand. It hadn't quite sunk in yet that, in less than twenty-four hours, the very people she'd been training with so delightedly were going to be trying to kill her. That she would be trying to kill them. It was all so distant to her – a game. The glorified, fantasized version of the Games that the Capitolites were fed every year. It was disgusting.

But she wasn't. She was a child, no different from the other children he'd mentored in the last eight years. So when she offered him a hug, as well, Aron held her close and whispered, "Sweet dreams, Prius." Flashing one more smile, she hurried off to bed, probably the first of his tributes who wouldn't have nightmares.

Pike stayed awake for a while, sitting on the couch next to Aron until his head began to droop against the old man's chest. As gently as he could, Aron lifted the little boy and carried him off to bed. Then he leaned down, kissed Pike's forehead, and whispered, "Sleep well, Pike."

Then he turned out the lights.

Hazel Birnam
Mentor, District Seven

"Remember to find your allies as quickly as you can," Hazel reminded both of them. "The others are less likely to attack you if they can see that there's already a group of you. Stay with them. But remember to watch your backs – alliances only last for so long."

Neither of them wanted to hear that, of course. She could tell they'd already grown rather fond of their allies. There was already too much trust. But there was only so much she could do about that. Emotions happened. But, eventually, in the arena, fear would win.

Fear always won.

For the moment, however, fear gave way to weariness. Cahra headed off to bed first, Sterling watching her with a smile. "Look at that – not even worried about nightmares." He chuckled a little. "Wish I could say the same."

Hazel shook her head. "Be grateful the nightmares aren't real yet. After tonight…"

Sterling nodded. "I know. But part of me wishes we were already in the arena."

"What?" She hadn't expected that – least of all from him.

Sterling shook his head. "Don't get me wrong. I don't want to fight. Don't want to die. But if it's going to happen … all this waiting just makes it worse. Does that make sense?"

Hazel was about to say no. But it did make sense, because she felt the same way. Wished the Games could just be over – for better or worse. "Yeah," she nodded. "It makes sense."

Sterling smiled and started towards his room, but then turned back, approached Hazel, and held out his hand. "Thanks, Hazel. I know this can't be easy for you. But thank you … for trying to save us."

Hazel stared. None of the tributes had ever thanked her before. She shook his hand firmly. "You're welcome, Sterling. I'll do my best."

Lander Katz
Mentor, District Eight

It was almost like a picture.

Zione and Nicoline stood at the window, staring out at the Capitol. Nicoline seeming so small and fearful, Zione with his hands laid protectively on her shoulders. A beautiful image.

Lander shook his head. It wouldn't last. Once they were in the Games, these two would have to go their separate ways. Zione wouldn't be able to protect her, and Lander hoped he wouldn't try. It would only hurt his own chances. But, for now – for this one, brief moment – he could offer her a little comfort. A little protection from the nightmares that were sure to come.

"Zione?" Nicoline's voice was thin, frightened. "If you win … if you make it home … could you do something for me?"

Zione nodded. "Name it."

"Tell Shaw it's not his fault. I know he didn't want you to take his place, but … I'm glad he's safe. Tell him I wouldn't have wanted him to die, too. Tell him not to blame himself."

Zione bent down and wrapped Nicoline in a hug. "I promise. And you know what else?" He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I'll tell him how brave you are."

Nicoline shook her head. "I don't feel brave. I just feel scared."

Zione smiled. "That's what being brave is, Nicoline – being afraid and doing what you have to do, anyway. Being this afraid and still being able to think about what will make your brother feel better – that's brave."

Lander looked away. Sure, it was brave. Noble, even. But noble didn't get you very far in the arena. Eventually, you had to think about yourself.

He wondered whether either of them would be able to do that.

Nerond Pel
Mentor, District Nine

"Remember, they're already terrified of you," Nerond said. "Use that. No one will want to come up against you in the bloodbath. Go in, get what you need, kill as many as you can on your way out."

Husk nodded. They'd already been over this, but Nerond felt the need to say something. Every year before, his tributes had been frightened. Nervous. Sometimes crying. Husk's confidence and Antiquity's indifference were a relief.

"And get some sleep," Nerond added, a note of finality in his voice. He'd done everything he could. It was up to them now – at least until the sponsoring started. They would live or die based on their own actions; nothing he said or did would be able to save them.

As the pair went their separate ways, Nerond finally allowed himself to smile. This – this – was what he had been hoping for nine years ago when he had signed on as a mentor. A pair of killers. Prepared to fight. Prepared to kill.

Prepared to win.

Nerond settled down on the couch. No quick, brutal deaths in the bloodbath for his tributes. Not this year. This year would be different.

This year would be his last.

Glenn Chester
Mentor, District Ten

He and Wulfric stayed with Libby as she cried herself to sleep.

Not that Glenn blamed her one bit. He'd done the exact same thing. The morning of the Games, his eyes had still been red from crying. He would have been an easy target. But sometimes tributes ignored an easy target so they could take out a more dangerous one. That was Libby's best chance.

"Just get away as quickly as possible," Wulfric said quietly, squeezing her hand gently. "You're not a threat. They won't come after you. Get away and find your allies."

"What about you?" Libby asked through sniffles. "You didn't find any allies."

Wulfric actually smiled a little. "Don't worry about me, Libby. Get some sleep."

A few minutes later, it seemed like she had. But then she said, sleepily, "You're welcome to join us … if we survive the…" She trailed off, asleep at last.

Glenn shook his head. "Don't even think about it. Her best chance is to run and hide. You're better off by yourself."

Wulfric nodded. "I know."

Glenn looked away. "Just … can you try to do one thing for her?"

"What?"

"Try not to be the one to kill her. Could you do that, for her? For me?"

Wulfric nodded and put a hand on Glenn's shoulder. "I can do that."

Ivy Asters
Mentor, District Eleven

"Three minutes!" Lordez insisted, glaring at Sher. "Do you think you could survive for three minutes without showing off?"

Sher shrugged. "Ivy said I should be charming. What's the difference?"

Lordez stared. "You idiot! There's a difference between charming the audience and antagonizing the interviewer! If you wanted to impress them, why not tell them he just bought a new car or that he's planning to take a vacation to the beach after the Games are over or something harmless like that? Why the hell would you tell him his wife's having an affair? Do you have any idea how much he's going to hate you?"

Sher rolled his eyes. "I don't care if he hates me. Why should I care what some stupid Capitol announcer thinks of me?"

"Don't you get it yet?" Lordez demanded. "Your life is in these people's hands! The announcers, the Gamemakers, the President. You're not just competing against the other tributes now; you're competing against them. And they always win."

Sher's face lit up with a smug smile. "They haven't played against me yet."

Pardeck Krell
Mentor, District Twelve

There was no way that boy was his.

It was a mistake. A trick. A sorry attempt to create drama where there was none. Well, it wouldn't work. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction. The boy was not his. That was the end of it.

On that matter, at least, he and Aldo agreed. The boy had made it very clear that Pardeck was not, and would never be, his father, and that he wanted no help from him. Which was just fine as far as Pardeck was concerned. He would get no help. Not from him, nor from anyone else. Not after his display at the interviews. He was just as dead as the other boy who had attacked his mentor.

Heloise was now ignoring him, as well. Maybe Aldo had told her about his mother. About what Pardeck and the other Peacekeepers had done. It didn't matter. The boy belonged to one of the others, surely. Not him.

Not his.

Pardeck shook his head and put down the ice pack he had been holding to his eye. Any child of his would know better than to put on such a display in front of the Capitol. The boy wasn't his. He couldn't be.

Pardeck got up and wandered out the door. He needed a drink.

Mags Pharos
Mentor, District Four

Shortly after Ella went to bed, there was a knock on the door.

Mags opened it, and had to fight to keep from taking a step backwards. One of the Capitolites – the mentor from Six, she was pretty sure – stood on the other side. He was an older man, and he seemed nice enough, but he was still one of them. Still from the Capitol. What did he want?

"Hello," he said with a small smile. "I'm Aron."

Aron. That was his name. "Mags," she said instinctively.

Aron chuckled softly. "Oh, I know."

Mags took a few steps back. "Please, come in."

Aron smiled. "Actually, I came to see if you wanted to join us for a drink downstairs – myself and the other mentors."

"All of them?" Mags asked skeptically.

Aron nodded. "Call it a tradition, if you like. The bartender's an old friend of mine; he keeps a room set aside for us, nice and quiet, away from the crowds – twenty-four hours, come and go as you like, all through the Games."

Mags eyed the Capitolite skeptically. "Why didn't any of the others tell me?"

Aron shrugged. "They know I make a point of inviting the newest mentor personally, and they see no harm in humoring an old man." He smiled kindly and held out his hand. Mags hesitated, but then took it, and he led her downstairs and into a side room.

The room was startlingly lacking most of the Capitol's usual extravagance. There was a bar counter, several tables, a few couches, and a large screen on the wall. But no fancy lights. No five-course meals. No frills or lace or glitter. Just the essentials.

Sure enough, the other mentors were all there. The other three Capitolites sat at their own table, off to the side. The others – the Victors – sat at a second, larger table, except for Glenn, who sat alone on one of the couches.

"There you are, Aron!" the man behind the bar grinned. He was a tall, thin man with a funny moustache, but, other than that, fairly ordinary for a Capitolite. "And this lovely young lady must be Mags." He bowed deeply. "Alistern Elbridge, at your service. I bet on you last year, my dear."

Mags wasn't quite sure what to say to that, but, fortunately, Aron stepped in. "You'll have to forgive Alistern; he thinks he's rather charming. But his drinks are excellent, so you'll learn to humor him." He clapped the younger man on the back. "The usual for me, Alistern, and the young lady's tab is on me tonight." He smiled at Mags. "Go join the others." And with that, he made his way to the corner and took a seat next to Glenn.

"Mags!" Hazel called. "Pull up a chair!"

Mags smiled as she took a seat next to the older girl. "So this is what mentors do after the tributes all go to bed."

Hazel smiled wryly. "Well, you certainly can't expect us to be able to sleep right away. Trust me, you won't sleep well for the rest of the Games."

Mags nodded. She didn't need much convincing. But, after a few minutes, when her fellow mentors' conversations turned to the Games, she quickly began to feel like an outsider. These young men and women shared something – something more than their common experience in the Games. They had all lost tributes. They had all tried their hardest to keep two teenagers alive, and failed – some of them many times. She was still new. Still different.

So, after a while, she wandered over to where Aron and Glenn sat, only to find that Glenn had fallen asleep on the couch. Aron smiled up at her and gestured to an open seat. "They'll warm up to you."

Mags glanced at Glenn. "What about him?"

Aron studied Glenn for a moment. "He's already asleep. Most of the tributes are asleep. But not them. Not for a while yet." He leaned back, staring off into the distance. "The innocent sleep – sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, balm of hurt minds, chief nourisher in life's feast. And yet they hear a voice cry, 'Sleep no more!'" He shook his head. "Sleep no more – the Games have murdered sleep."

Mags stared, not quite sure what to make of this strange Capitolite who seemed to detest the Games and yet had volunteered to be a mentor. She was a mentor, as well, of course, but that had come with the victorship. She hadn't asked for it. It certainly wasn't a job she would have wanted.

Or maybe it was. Maybe it was the only job worth having now – the only way to make up for the lives she had taken in the Games. By helping to save other lives. Mags smiled a little. "I think I understand."

Aron raised his eyebrows. "Good, because I didn't. You'll have to forgive my rambling, my dear; it comes with age."

Mags smiled. But there was something in his eyes – something behind his gentle humor – that told her he did understand. Better than most of the others in the room, maybe. He understood why they were here.

Mags shook her head slowly. If she had been wrong about him – the Capitol mentor she had been so wary of – then what else was she wrong about?

What else did the Games have in store?

"I don't want to be in a battle, but waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse."