We're dancing again, my arm placed gently across Peeta's broad shoulders, but now everything feels different. I struggle to look into Peeta's eyes, afraid of what I might see and there's a sick feeling in my stomach. Peeta's a Whisper.
He can read people's minds. Even worse, he can control them. As I picture Clove's vacant expression, I'm certain that's what he did to her.
It's almost like waking up from a dream. I had started to allow myself to feel comfortable in the Prince's presence, of all places. But now I'm certain I can't trust him. I never should have let my guard down.
I wonder if I'm the only one here who didn't know, or if none of the Silvers know his ability. The Reds certainly don't know. We didn't even know who the Prince was– neither his name nor what he looked like. Why keep that information from the districts?
"I think we're pulling this off," Peeta declares softly, but I look for the subtle signs of his hidden emotion. He's anxious, I think, noticing his eyes dart around. Does he know?
I nod, wondering how he decided that. Maybe he's reading the guests' minds to learn what they think of us.
"You seem a little… off," Peeta whispers hesitantly and I can't help but look up at him, "Are you okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" I respond neutrally watching his expression shift once again. Concern to… resolution. What's he planning? Does he want to wipe my memory? Can Whispers even do that?
He looks at me for a few moments as if something in my expression will reveal everything and then continues in a cold tone, "The final part of the evening involves the announcement of our marriage. The contract is to be signed within the next few days, but the wedding will not take place until after the Blood Games to avoid overshadowing them. Is that all right?"
"Yes," I agree without hesitation. My family's safety depends on this agreement, and I will not jeopardize it.
"Before that, I would like you to meet two people. Are you willing to?"
"Yes," I repeat. Who? Why?
We walk through the crowd, hand in hand, until we reach two men. The first is a large figure in a dark purple suit with a high collar. He has light eyes and thin blond hair swept to the side. The second is an older man with unnaturally full lips and perfectly white hair. His black suit displays a white rose on the lapel, but its overpowering scent disgusts me.
Peeta straightens to his full height and puts on a dazzling but hollow smile, "What a pleasure this encounter has been."
The men smile and agree, then shift their attention to me. Peeta introduces me with my full pretend name and I proceed to greet them pleasantly. At least I hope that's how it comes off as.
The large man extends his hand, "I'm honored to meet you. My name is Plutarch Heavensbee– the Head Gamemaker for this year's Games."
My instinct is to pull away, but I force myself to remain composed. I'm holding the hand of the man who will be facilitating the death of twenty four children.
When our hands part, the second man steps forward, extending his hand with a slow, deliberate smile, "Coriolanus Snow—Chief Advisor to the crown."
We shake, and then he requests, "May I have a dance?"
Peeta's eyes flicker with surprise, "A dance? I apologize, but Katelle and I will need to prepare for our announcement."
"Don't be foolish," the man, Snow, says. On the surface it sounds kind, but I get the feeling it is a reprimand. Could he have power over the Prince? "One dance will hurt nobody," Snow adds.
"But-" Peeta begins, then he stops suddenly.
"Katelle?" Snow asks, extending his arm as the dance begins. His determination and Peeta's resistance make me wonder if he could be my ally. Like Cinna or Haymitch.
So I accept.
After a few minutes, I begin to feel there is no way he is my ally. Everything about him screams danger and I quickly regret my decision. But then I realize I never had a decision to begin with.
Maybe it's the same for Peeta.
Stop feeling sympathy for Peeta!
Stop thinking about Peeta.
You can't trust him.
Snow leans close to whisper something. There's a smell on his breath more pungent than roses. Blood.
There have been whispers of uprisings for years," he murmurs, his voice smooth, "but since your actions at the reaping, they've grown louder, less restricted. They believe you are one of them. That you are on their side. You must convince them otherwise… or the consequences will be dire ." He smiles, his expression eerily serene, as though discussing something like the weather.
"I will," I respond, struggling to keep my voice steady, my heart hammering painfully against my ribs. "I'll convince them that I love Peeta and that what happened at the reaping was a mistake."
He shakes his head slowly, "Aim higher. Convince me."
"Have a wonderful evening," he smiles as the dance finishes and then we separate. I find Peeta waiting for me, running a hand through his hair.
"How was the dance?" he asks, sounding almost concerned.
He cares about me.
He's faking it.
He tried to stop me from dancing with Snow.
He introduced me to Snow.
"Good," I respond, nonchalantly, hoping I don't look as flustered as I feel.
I have no idea if he believes me, his expression entirely closed off, "Okay Katelle. Are you ready for the announcement? It'll just be me saying we are planning on marrying and how I met you. You can always add something, but please just be careful."
"That's okay," I say. I have no idea what to add but I know I need to say something. I need to convince everyone.
We walk up a flight of polished stairs to a large balcony overlooking the ballroom. In the center are the Queen and King on large golden thrones.
There's something off about the Queen. Her glare isn't probing so much as angry. What's changed from this morning? Have I done something?
"Attention!" a woman a few feet away calls and the ballroom falls silent.
Peeta's demeanor exudes warmth and confidence as he reaches for my hand.
"Good evening, everyone," Peeta begins, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room, a warm smile playing on his lips. "It is with immense joy that we stand before you tonight."
He pauses, his blue eyes scanning the crowd, connecting with each person as if they were the only one in the room. "From the moment I first laid eyes on Katniss, I knew she was extraordinary. She may have been born in District 12, but her spirit was always meant to be among us. I know we were all taken by surprise during the Reaping, just as I was, when her powers revealed themselves in the most unexpected way."
"Since then, she has been living in the palace with me, and in that short time, she has captured my heart completely. She is the bravest, strongest, most beautiful, and compassionate person I have ever met. She has inspired me, pushing me to be a better prince for you citizens and renewing my hope for a brighter future for Panem."
"I can only see these events as fate. How else could I have found the love of my life, who not only completes me but also offers invaluable insight into the lives of those in the districts? An understanding to help us better utilize and maintain the districts."
"On this momentous occasion, I am honored to announce my engagement to Katelle Caristona-Enberia. She is my other half, my joy, my strength, and my heart. I have no doubt that, should anything happen to me, she will rise magnificently as your Queen."
He turns to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and determination. "Katniss, I promise to stand by your side, to protect you, and to cherish every moment we have together. Our love will fuel me until the day I die."
His words are so genuine. I watch the reactions of the crowd and see many guests tearing up, overcome with emotion, and hear "awws" all around the ballroom.
There's a moment of hesitation while I try to compose myself. I feel real tears welling up and my smile isn't forced. It's so strange.
Almost like an instinct, I know what I must do to make this convincing without much thought at all.
I step closer to Peeta, placing my hands on either side of his face. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then soften. I lean in, pressing my lips to his with all the intensity and passion I can muster. My heart races, and for a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the sensation of our lips meeting, our breaths mingling.
And it feels… right. Real.
It's just an act.
It doesn't feel like one.
The room falls silent again, until I finally pull back. Then everyone erupts into applause with large smiles all around.
"Our love is real," I declare, my voice steady but filled with emotion. "And we will prove it, every day."
Everyone is unbelievably giddy as Peeta and I walk as one figure off the balcony. Once we are out of the view of the guests, the Queen stops us.
"Peeta, you are to meet with me in a quarter of an hour. For now, you may return to your bedroom," she commands.
"Yes, your Highness," Peeta replies stiffly.
We walk all through the hallways and up the stairs without a word.
"Are you hungry?" Peeta asks me when we reach the door to his bedroom.
"No," I answer honestly. I've had more food today than any day in 12.
"Would you mind if Delly brings up a platter regardless? In case you change your mind?" he says as he opens the door for me.
"I wouldn't mind," I answer.
He's worrying about me.
That's what he wants you to think.
"Then I'll see you later. Don't worry about waiting though. It might be a while," he explains.
"Can I ask you a question?" I blurt out before he leaves.
He nods and closes the door behind us, "Yes?"
"Are you a Whisper? Did you do something to Clove?" I wonder if this will upset him or if he really would do something to me. But I need to take this risk. I need to know if he's an ally.
"Yes," he sighs, "But no one is supposed to know. I messed up."
"You saved my life," I counter, surprised by how true it is, "And my family's lives too."
It's beginning to become concerning how much of a debt I owe this boy. That I need to love and struggle to trust.
Peeta only shrugs, "You probably would have handled it. I'm sorry if I frightened you."
"It's okay," I say hesitantly, "And thank you."
"You're welcome," he smiles, warming my chest.
He turns away and leaves, shutting the door, securely. And I'm alone. It's such a relief .
In ten minutes, my dress has been removed, my makeup is finally off and I'm sitting in bed. There's a soft knock on the door, "Can I come in, Katelle?" Delly asks.
"Yes," I call back and Delly enters with a large tray of assorted foods.
"Hi Delly," I say, finding myself very comfortable with her after all the Silvers I met today. She's… kind.
"How was the ball?" she asks curiously.
"Weird," I reply, finding myself unable to elaborate.
"I bet! I think even Peeta doesn't like them," Delly giggles.
Now that I think about it, they really are close. It makes me wonder, again, if there's something between the two of them.
I hesitate, unsure how to phrase the question. "Actually, Delly, can I ask you something?"
"Of course!" Delly leans in, excited.
"Are you and Peeta… a thing?" I ask, my cheeks warming with embarrassment.
Delly's smile widens, a glint in her eyes. "Why do you want to know?"
"Well, we're… supposed to be getting married," I mutter, fighting to sound impartial.
Delly's smirk softens into a fond smile. "Katniss, have you seen the way he looks at you?"
I shift around, suddenly self-conscious. "We're just playing roles."
Delly shook her head gently. "No, Katniss. Peeta loves you. Really."
I blink, taken aback by her certainty. "But you and Peeta… you're so close."
Delly chuckled softly. "We're like siblings, Katniss. Honestly."
That gets my thinking going again. I can ask Delly my questions. And I feel like she'll share the truth.
"Are you okay to answer another one?" I smile nervously.
"Of course!" she exclaims cheerfully.
"In District 12… I was raised there," she nods, "I didn't even know who the Prince was. No one did."
Delly's face falls, "And?" she says hesitantly.
"Why wouldn't I know? It seems like no one in any of the districts knew," I explain.
"Um," Delly says uncomfortably, "It isn't a pleasant story."
"Please Delly. I just need to understand. I'm so lost," I admit.
"Peeta wasn't the first of the Queen's children. She had another. His identity was revealed to all of Panem. His birth was broadcasted to the districts. When he was 12 and Peeta was 7, the Scarlet Guard broke into the palace. I don't know how or who specifically. What I do know is the oldest child was killed. Rumor is that Peeta was in the room when it happened, but somehow he survived. Everyone in the Capitol knows this story, even little children. I guess to increase fear of the rebels."
I sit there, stunned, as Delly's words sink in. Peeta had an older brother. The Scarlet Guard broke into the palace and killed him. I feel a chill run down my spine at the thought of a little boy witnessing something so traumatic. I imagine what it would be like to lose Prim, right in front of my eyes, and have to stop. It would break me.
"How… how did Peeta survive?" I whisper.
Delly shakes her head with a solemn expression. "No one knows. Some say he was hidden, others believe he used some sort of Ability. But he hasn't gotten his Ability yet, so I find that doubtful. Either way, Peeta never talks about it, and the Queen has forbidden any discussion of the event."
We sit in silent reflection, and then Delly excuses herself, "I really should be leaving. Oliver's probably wondering where I am right now."
"Okay, good night," I respond, "And thank you for being honest with me. You're a good person."
Delly smiles at that, "Goodnight Katniss."
I eat a little, especially intrigued by the dough balls filled with cheese. They're delicious. Then I lay in bed, waiting for Peeta to come in.
Minutes tick by on the clock, and I find myself growing increasingly anxious. What could they be talking about for so long? I turn off the light, its glare irritating my eyes.
Countless times, I feel myself start to drift off, only to force myself awake again. Two hours pass before I finally hear the low creak of the door, followed by uneven footsteps and heavy breathing.
Peeta?" I call out softly.
"Katniss," he responds, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "You're awake?" There's no effort to hide the disappointment in his tone.
"Yeah," I say, growing nervous about his demeanor, "Is something wrong?"
"No, I'm okay," he responds rapidly, but his voice is hoarse and strained, raising my concern even further. I hear his footsteps heading toward the bathroom door.
Something's definitely up, and I need to know what.
By the time he starts to close the bathroom door, I've reached him on silent feet, slipping my arm in and turning on the light.
I regret it immediately.
The first time I noticed a bruise at 4 years old, I remember the dark purple color blossoming on my leg. It frightened me, so I ran to my mother, who explained the science behind the color. I vaguely remember her explaining the red color of my blood led to the skin discoloration.
What about people with silver blood? I asked curiously.
She smiled sadly and whispered, People with silver blood don't bruise. They don't get hurt.
She was wrong.
Peeta's arms, which tremble uncontrollably, are covered in gray bruises that look horribly painful. They look like portions of his skin that have died– much more frightening than Red's bruises. Jagged scars are scattered among the bruises, with silver blood slowly oozing out. A particularly severe bruise sprawls across his cheek, its edges creeping up toward his swollen eye. Dried trails of tears streak down his face.