Augustus probed her emerald irises with his own. He was like a hunter, searching through a thick, verdant forest. The longer the silence stretched on between them, the more she recognized he was seeking weaknesses or fractures within her. Hazel scoffed. She had plenty to choose from, but at that moment, relenting to his newfound authority was not one.
Hazel continued to hold his bronze stare until he relinquished his eye contact with an exasperated, “Fine.”
Before a smile could even consider broaching Hazel’s lips, Indira practically threw her over her shoulder, dragging her down the pathway. “Great, let’s go.”
Even her peacekeepers struggled to keep up as Indira trudged toward the Mayor’s home. Her escort whispered more warnings into her ear as they neared their destination.
However, Hazel only half comprehended her words due to the distracting stares of the citizens as well as the whiplash of her rapidly shifting emotions.
Just like everything else in District Twelve, the mayor's home was drastically poorer than Mayor Kettleberry’s. However, like most districts, it was still the nicest building in town.
At the heart of the home was a humble dining room. A long rectangular table was set up in the center. It was draped in fraying, threadbare tablecloth. Along the edges were embroidered flowers that resembled delicate cream-colored water stars. Their petals were tapered to three soft points. A crimson teardrop marked the innermost edge, like an errant drop of paint.
A collection of crooked, yellowing candles rested in the middle of the table. A matching set of dishes encircled the perimeter. The mayor’s staff were scrambling to set up five more chairs and place settings around the already cramped dining room.
The new legion of peacekeepers aligned in a neat row just outside the doors while her three guards stationed themselves in separate corners within.
Mayor Lipp stretched his arm as if to give the group a weak embrace. “I apologize for the delay; we weren’t expecting…extra guests.”
“None of us were,” Augustus replied. His braid swayed as he stalked through the room toward the head of the table.
Once everything was properly set, each of the guests found a seat. Mayor Lipp and his wife sat at each end, though they were more like living ghosts than hosts. Augustus lounged into the seat next to the Mayor, visiting quietly with the man about the recent increase in coal production.
Ruby and Ethan’s parents sat together on the opposite side of the table from Augustus. Their chairs couldn’t be far enough away.
Indira and Festus took the two seats beside Augustus, forming a much-needed barrier between the man and herself.
Despite the clear tension between the visitors and the locals, Amethyst eagerly took the seat next to Hazel. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“Absolutely.” The girl smiled up at her, and Ruby’s face flashed behind Hazel’s eyelids. She made a lame attempt at an unstrained smile before her eyes dropped to her plate. At least it wasn’t a crying, bleeding ghost this time around.
“Yes, such a kind-hearted Victor we have,” Augustus replied, watching her from the corner of his vision.
“You are too generous, Mr. Trask.” Hazel fought not to scowl back at him, refocusing on Amethyst. “At least we have some time to get to know each other.”
“I, for one, am looking forward to that,” Augustus smirked. Festus muttered under his breath while Indira nodded politely.
Hazel fought to keep her expression still, unperturbed. Let Festus deal with Indira’s lectures for a while.
Without a word, the mayor’s staff laid out a host of dishes before them. There were plates of potato hash, a steaming bowl of some sort of pistachio-colored soup, and a pile of boiled chicken. A saucer of a grayish gravy rounded out the meal. It was modest but not distasteful. Clearly, it was the best they had to offer, which was admirable, all things considered.
Despite the less-than-impressive portions, Hazel’s heart lurched as she watched the ravenousness with which the families stared at the meal.
Grabbing a ladle, she filled a bowl full of what was most likely a form of lima bean soup. With a small sip her suspicion was confirmed as the nutty, garlicy flavor rushed over her taste buds.
“I have to say, Miss Hazel, your speech was very sweet.” Briallen’s voice tore through Hazel's rising irritation at the Gamemaker.
“It was,” Augustus agreed, his bronze eyes reflecting the sickly dandelion light of the candles, “Wasn’t it?”
Her irritation surged forth like the kickback of a poorly felled trunk.
“Thank you,” Hazel swallowed, “I’m not used to public speaking.”
That could be a good enough excuse for going off-script.
“I think our Victor is being modest,” Augustus replied, taking a large gulp of posca.
“And now it’s our newest Gamemaker’s turn to be too kind,” Hazel replied, though the sweetness in her voice was drastically mismatched with the hardness of her irises as she met his gaze.
August tilted his head as if challenged.
Festus smirked between sips of posca. His attention wavered between the two of them like a show was about to begin.
“Ruby would have loved it,” Clive commented.
Hazel swallowed; the mention of Ruby was sobering. “I can only hope she would have.”
“Sounds like a consensus. You did an outstanding job, Seven,” Festus met the blue-haired man’s eyes without flinching, “I would dare say that speech was even better than the original. You could say it was moving even. Need to hire some new speech writers.”
A glowering scowl spread over Augustus’ face, which almost completely gave away who that might be.
The Gamemaker dragged another gulp from his glass while Indira shook her head, dishing a scoopful of the toasted potato hash onto her plate. “No need to exaggerate Festus.”
“Mr. Creed is right. I, for one, was certainly surprised and moved.” Harla replied with a tilt of her head, her stare locked onto the blue-haired man.
Augustus shifted his shoulders, realigning the aim of his scrutiny in her direction, “You know, I was surprised as well. During the Games, Ethan was obviously quite skilled with a bow.”
Ivor sat up straighter, setting down his fork. Harla went rigid, eying her husband.
“Wonder where he picked up those skills,” Augustus sat back in his chair, “Considering such weapons are illegal.”
Hazel shivered, and by the looks of her dinnermates, she wasn’t the only one who felt the sudden drop in the room temperature.
Harla leaned her elbows on the table, “Can’t be sure.”
“No?” Augustus replied, eyes narrowing at the woman.
“My boy was always good with his hands and quick to learn,” Ivor rested a hand on his wife’s forearm.
“A family trait, apparently,” Augustus’s words were like an iceberg—seemingly benign on the surface, but a mystery beneath, and cold as ice either way.
“You know how kids are.” Harla shrugged, though her knuckles were bloodless. “You have children, don’t you, Mr. Trask?”
Augustus’s eyes smoldered with ferocity, but he didn’t answer. Harla continued to stare forward without flinching while her husband caressed her arm. However, Ivor's coal-stained fingers moved along her sleeve, almost as if coaxing a wild animal.
“Ethan was certainly bright. I don’t think it would’ve taken much for him to pick up a new skill.” Hazel commented, hoping to pull Trask’s seething attention away from Harla. “To be honest, they don’t exactly teach axe throwing in District Seven, either.”
Harla and Ivor turned their curious gazes to her. She dropped her attention, sipping the rapidly cooling soup. She hoped she appeared more relaxed than she felt.
“The legality is probably questionable. But lumberjacks have been doing it for centuries, I would imagine.” She wasn’t about to admit how many times they had snuck away from logging clearings during work hours. “I’m sure it is similar in many Districts, just a way to pass time. Gotta entertain yourselves during breaks and off days.”
She could feel Leo’s eyes searching the side of her face, and she willed herself to keep her gaze away from him.
“Don’t have much of those around here anymore,” Clive mumbled, though Briallen’s eyes widened at his candor. He stuttered, glancing at the Mayor and then Augustus, “Not that I am complaining.”
Hazel shuddered. She couldn’t imagine being underground for twelve hours a day, six days a week. The sheer misery of the concept was overwhelming.
“All of us in District Twelve are happy to do our part,” Briallen said, daintily taking a sip of her own posca.
“The workload has increased in Seven, too. And the hours.” Hazel turned her stare toward Augustus.
Augustus shrugged, “Fences don’t build themselves. Neither do Museums.”
“Or arenas,” Hazel let slip.
“Exactly. And more construction means more labor and more supplies are required.”
“Why the fence in the first place?” Hazel asked.
Augustus smirked widely, “Surprising, you don’t know.”
“Should I?” Hazel questioned. How was she able to know what was happening in other districts? It was illegal, after all.
“Considering whose idea it was…” Augustus swirled his knife as he cut up the chicken on his plate.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
Hazel cleared her throat, “What use is a fence to a Senator?”
“Rebel attacks are always a concern, dear.” Indira licked her lips as she swirled the thickening lima bean soup around in her bowl. “And that is something Senator Snow certainly takes seriously.”
Hazel tasted the leftover salt from the soup as she chewed her lip. Based on the newness of the fence, it must have been recently initiated. The knowledge swirled within her like a whispered answer in a too-loud room of questions.
Augustus took a slow bite of the meat, clearly amused with himself.
“Just as concerning as keeping citizens safe.” Mayor Lipp’s wife finally spoke, though her sour expression remained.
“Safe or contained?” Harla muttered under her breath, though it was more a statement than an actual question.
“A bit of both.” Mayor Lipp interjected, having clearly heard the woman. His eyes flashed to the window. “People vanish out there. It has happened before.” His expression was more anger than actual concern.
“Missing?” Hazel questioned. Her conversation with Snow in the rose garden echoed in her ears.
“Can’t be too careful.” Mrs. Lipp agreed the lines that stretched from her mouth to her chin deepened.
“Agreed.” Augustus replied, “The fence will be an excellent way to protect the people.”
“Do you have a fence in District Seven?” Amethyst asked, peering up at Hazel.
“No,” Hazel shook her head, meeting Augustus’s eyes for a second, “Or maybe I should say, not yet.”
Amethyst considered her words for a second before asking another question, “What is it like there?”
Hazel sighed as she looked down at the meager food before her. In this District, it was considered a banquet. The hollowness of food deprivation around the young girl’s eye ridges made her stomach sour. “A lot like here.” It wasn’t a total lie. “More food probably…” Her voice fell off.
“More trees?” The girl asked in earnestness.
Hazel’s eyes crinkled at the question, “Yes, more trees, a lot more, and it’s a bit colder.” She swallowed, “We had our first snow already.”
Amethyst wrinkled her nose, “Ugh. I don’t like snow.”
Hazel held back an inappropriate laugh as a genuine smile pulled at her lips, “I’ve started to dislike the stuff myself lately.”
“We all know that is untrue.” Augustus’s eyebrows raised, and she caught the subtle shifting of Leo’s boots as if he were changing positions.
Hazel scoffed, her cheeks warming, “You’re right. The cold certainly keeps away the snakes—and scavengers.”
Augustus tilted his head, meeting her eyes once again. Indira’s shoe slid against her boot in a clear warning.
Amethyst appeared to accept this answer with a small amount of confusion. Augustus, on the other hand, appeared to be anything besides confused.
The man suddenly grew even more interested in the bubbling posca. However, the slight red tinge to his skin appeared unrelated to the alcohol.
Indira cleared her throat, and the group returned to eating quietly.
“Do you have cool rocks there?” Amethyst finally asked as if she could no longer contain her questions.
She reminded Hazel so much of Sage and his youth-drenched curiosity. The thought warmed her heart yet caused it to ache simultaneously.
“We have more rocks than people.” She met the girl’s questioning stare, “Though I’m not sure about their coolness.”
“We have tons here. All different kinds. Maybe I can show you?”
She leaned in toward the girl, “That sounds like a tour I wouldn’t mind, actually.”
“Amethyst, I’m sure she doesn’t have time to look at your rock collection,” Clive softly reprimanded his hopeful daughter.
Hazel cast a look at Festus, who seemed just as opposed to the idea as her peacekeepers.
“It’s unfortunate you have to leave so soon, Miss Marlowe.” Mayor Lipp said, “We would have enjoyed showing you more of our District.”
Hazel nodded politely, “I apologize. They have me on a tight schedule.” She glanced at the faces around the room before adding, “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, there is one thing I would like to see in the morning before I leave.”
Indira caught her eye, “As long as we leave on time.” Sable’s grumbling about its unlikeliness was barely perceptible.
“And what would that be?” Mrs. Lipp asked.
“Would it be possible to visit the cemetery?”
Mayor Lipp and his wife exchanged a look before he nodded, “It would be our honor for you to visit.” He wiped at his mouth, and his voice grew distant, “I may join you; I’ve been meaning to go up there.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Hazel replied. The vague news of the death of the Mayor’s daughter had made it back to Seven shortly after the tenth Games.
“Another reason for the fence.” Mrs. Lipp’s tone was scorching, “If we would have had it before, maybe our daughter would still be alive. Would’ve kept out those filthy vermin.”
“Quite right.” Augustus agreed, a veneer of concern etched his brow.
“Who?” Hazel asked.
“The covey,” Mayor Lipp responded, “And that murderous whore, Lucy Gray.”
Festus coughed on his soup while Indira patted him on the back. Hazel stared at the mayor in utter confusion. “She was a Victor.”
“Some Victor.” Mrs. Lipp spat.
“What a mistake. We opened up our district in good faith, offered them our resources and how were we repaid for our generosity?” Mrs. Lipp seethed almost daintily. “Should’ve just put down the whole lot like the dogs they are.”
Hazel swallowed hard. She had been under the impression the covey had all but been forced into Twelve. The group seemed harmless, just like Lucy Gray herself. From what Hazel remembered, she was merely a slip of a girl who seemed more interested in music than murder.
“I wasn’t aware Lucy Gray was charged with murder,” Hazel whispered, barely able to keep her hand from shaking.
“Never got that far. Ran off before we could.” Mayor Lipp replied, uttering a few more choice names for the girl under his breath.
“She’s missing?” Hazel’s shoe tapped in an erratic rhythm beneath the flower-laden tablecloth. She almost deduced as much, but hearing it confirmed was chilling.
“All I know is she better stay that way because if she ever shows her face around here again, she’ll be swinging from the hanging tree before the sun sets.”
Hazel released her spoon, allowing it to sink into the green liquid. ‘She prefers to live her life away from the spotlight.’ Staying away from the spotlight indeed. Snow knew she was missing, and judging by the unsurprised looks on the faces of the tributes’ families, it was somewhat common knowledge.
Something Snow had said itched her brain like a sneeze that wouldn’t let loose, tickling her senses but completely unsatisfactory. ‘She didn’t value truth like I did’….
Augustus’s annoying voice pulled her back to reality, “She is a disgrace to the title of Victor. Now that I am a Gamemaker, if she ever does show back up, her execution will be televised before the entire nation.”
“Without a trial?” Hazel asked.
“I can assure you none would be needed,” Augustus smirked.
Hazel cleared her throat, “It sure sounds like you are more acquainted with District Twelve than I thought, Mr. Trask.” Not so miserable after all, huh?
Indira shot a warning glance at her while the sound of silverware clinking against plates diminished.
Festus sunk further into his chair, taking a long swig of dark beer, seemingly preparing himself for the unfolding dramatics.
Augustus swallowed down his current bite, “I’m acquainted.” His dark tan eyes shifted over the faces at the table.
“It seems you know the Mayor and his wife.” Hazel glanced across the table, “What about our guests?”
“Your guests, Miss Marlowe?”
Hazel squinted at his pettiness. “My guests, Mr Trask?”
He tilted his chin, and a sliver of arrogance slid along his lips, “In a way.”
Harla was gripping her fork so tightly that Hazel thought it might snap in half.
“And Ethan and Ruby?”
Augustus merely stared without answering.
Harla seemed unable to contain herself, “Mr. Trask is being modest. He is no stranger to our humble District.”
Hazel nodded as she watched the two spar across the table without words.
Augustus broke their stare down first, addressing Hazel once again, “Despite first impressions, this place has a certain… charm that I seem to find myself here quite often.”
“Dear, Mr. Trask is well known in many Districts. He donates much time and money to various projects to aid the Capitol.” Indira commented with a tone that suggested she wanted this whole conversation to end. “He even founded an orphanage in District Eight.”
Festus rolled his eyes at Indira’s words. Hazel wasn’t about to drop it. “So, you knew Tulsi Black as well then?”
Augustus met her stare once again, and if looks could maim, then the one on his face would have laid her out.
“Yes,” Harla answered before Augustus even had a chance. “He knew our daughter.”
The way she said it made Hazel’s skin crawl.
Augustus turned his snake-like gaze to Ethan’s mother. “She was a special girl. Without her, District Twelve is certainly less charming.”
The harsh sound of a chair skidding backward filled the room as Ivor rose from his seat. Both of his palms slammed down on the table, shaking the dishes. His calm, steady composure had shattered, sending shock washing over the room like shards of shattered glass.
“If you know what is good, you’d be wise not to speak of her!” His face had grown rusty, and a cordlike vein bulged from his neck. His body and posture screamed anger, but his irises were like jade pools of the deepest sorrow.
Before Hazel could blink, Sable and Bellona pushed forward, flanking either side of him. Sable’s voice was deep but commanding. “Relax, Sir.”
Leo was at her side, breathing in her hair. One hand on his weapon, and the other gripped the back of her chair.
“Rich of you to speak about wisdom.” Augustus straightened but didn’t flinch away, “At least Tulsi was wiser than her father. If you knew what was good, you would follow her example.”
Ivor leaned toward Augustus, spittle flying from his lips, “You’d best keep my daughter’s name out of your goddamn mouth!”
Augustus smiled wickedly at the heaving man as if he was truly enjoying himself, “Funny, neither of your children could quite keep mine out of theirs.” He leaned forward, teeth first, “And look how that turned out.”
Ivor’s body surged toward the Gamemaker while Sable lunged forward. Leo and Bellona unholstered their weapons. Sable‘s hand slammed down over Ivor’s, crushing it hard against the table.
Beneath their collective palms, Ivor had a death grip on his steak knife. “Drop it!” Sable called, the scars along his neck bulging with his demand.
Harla rose to her feet, “Ivor, stop!”
Leo pressed himself between Hazel and the table. He raised his gun, training it on the man’s chest. Bellona also aimed her weapon as Sable wrapped one of his thick arms around the man’s neck.
The miner was no match for the war hero turned peacekeeper. His shoes slid helplessly against the worn floors as Sable wrenched him backward. Though the knife remained clutched in their connected hands.
With another hard pull, Sable tore Ivor from the table while Bellona pressed the muzzle of her weapon against his temple.
“Wait.” Hazel choked out, rising to her feet.
Sable tightened his arm around the man’s neck and wrenched his wrist behind him. A grunt escaped Ivor’s lips as the knife fell to the floor.
“Let’s all calm down,” Bellona commanded.
Hazel pushed back from the table, her heart pounding hard against her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
Briallen murmured as she scanned Augustus with disgust. “This was bound to happen.”
Harla gestured for Bellona to back down as she approached her husband. She relented, pulling her weapon from the man’s head.
Leo, too, lowered his weapon, sliding backward and gripping Hazel’s arm as if he would need to remove her from the room any moment.
Sable withdrew his arm from the man’s neck and released his wrist. With a stiff nod, he pressed a finger into Ivor’s chest, “Go for a walk.”
Harla rested a steady hand on her husband’s surging chest, whispering into his ear. The wild edge in his eyes settled into a simmer as he listened.
Harla turned, meeting Sable’s gaze. “I’ll ensure he does, sir.”
With that, Ivor allowed Harla to pull him away.
Amethyst wrung her little hands as she scooted closer to Hazel.
Hazel murmured to Leo, tapping the hand wrapped around her arm, “I’m all right.”
Leo’s breath tickled the top of her head as he let out a sigh and yielded.
Kneeling, Hazel wrapped her pink-covered hand over the girl’s under the table. “It’s ok.”
“You are a monster. And one day, you will get what’s coming to you.” Harla glared at the newly crowned game maker as she pushed her husband out into the night.
Augustus merely grinned, “For all this talk of wisdom, both of you seem to be lacking in it. Insulting your new Gamemaker is certainly anything but wise, my dear.”
“You’ve already taken everything.” Harla practically spit at the man.
Augustus's eyes flickered to Amethyst, then back, “That’s not really true, is it?”
Hazel’s stomach dropped like a boulder as she gripped Amethyst's hand tighter. She was certain her expression matched the hatred mixed with the cold horror that colored the features of both Ethan’s and Ruby’s family members.
Without another word, Harla disappeared with her husband, the door slamming shut in their wake.
“Mr. Trask,” Mayor Lipp started, a slight twitch pulled at his eye, “I hope you accept my apology on behalf of my citizens.”
Augustus waved him off, “Apology accepted, Mayor. I completely understand.” Augustus glanced in Hazel’s direction once again, “It is not totally their fault. It has been an emotional day.”
“I think I will skip dessert tonight.” Hazel rose, turning to face the infuriating man. “I’ve certainly lost my appetite.”
Augustus smirked at her as Hazel met Leo’s gaze for a moment. His grey eyes were like stone, but she could see the turmoil brewing like an approaching storm.
Indira gestured to Festus, and the two retreated from the table. “Our Victor is right. We have a long day tomorrow. Thank you all for dinner.”
The Hart’s rose and Amethyst went to them, wrapping her arms around her father. “We must be going as well,” Clive replied.
Hazel met Amethyst’s saddened stare as her parents prepared to depart. “I would love to see that rock collection you were telling me about. How about you show me?”
The Harts nodded in worried agreement while Amethyst’s glum expression warmed at the idea.
As her entourage prepared to leave, Hazel addressed the Mayor and his wife, “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Mayor Lipp said nothing but merely nodded, as did his wife with a slightly perturbed politeness.
Augustus leaned back in his chair, downing the last of his posca before pouring more into his glass. “Train leaves at 9 am, Red. Don’t be late.”
Leo ushered Hazel around the table toward the entrance to the dining room, “We will ensure she is on time, Sir.”
Hazel scowled at Augustus from around Leo’s shoulder, “And if I am tardy?”
“Don’t be.” Augustus's face sparked with a dangerous light, “Or I will collect you myself.”