Partially digested cabbage battled buttered potatoes and chicken. Dinner threatened to reemerge as Hazel watched one of the most dangerous men in all of Panem glide through her lamp-lit bedroom like he was perusing his favorite department store.

He practically floated through, absorbing the sight of the disheveled bedsheets, the lock on her patio door, the pile of fresh bandaging supplies, the bottle of sedatives, and finally, the dead flowers on her table. If her room was a department store, it was the most haphazard and depressing one. But one would never surmise, observing Snow, as he appeared to relish being invited into such a personal area.

The two vases remained; one still filled with the Tigerlily roses, and the other, the fushia blooms from her return home. Their aromas had faded weeks ago, though, with Snow in her room, there wasn't a shortage of the scent of flowers.

Hazel ducked her head into the hallway one more time, ensuring none of her nosy siblings were lurking around the corner. Shutting the door, she closed it much louder than intended, and the sound bounced off the walls like an alarm.

If Snow noticed, he didn't show it. He was still hovering beside her desk, a languid gloved finger curled over the crisp petals of one of the wildflowers. They had long since dried out, and she kicked herself for not discarding them before he arrived.

"What are you doing?" She bit out.

"You invited me."

Hazel huffed in his general direction.

"You are going to have to be more specific." Snow pulled his touch from the petal, turning back to her.

"What was all of that?"

Snow's shoulders raised in an almost invisible shrug, "Your family and I are just getting to know each other." The edge of his lips twitched, and she wished to know even a fraction of what he was thinking.

"So you came all the way down here to socialize?" Hazel crossed her arms around herself, "Seems like a waste of tax dollars."

"You can learn a lot about a person by familiarizing yourself with those they spend the most time with." His tone was matter-of-fact, like what he was saying was obvious.

"And who would I need to familiarize myself with to learn about you, Senator?" Outside of Festus, she hadn't seen him have any real friends, or at least she hadn't heard of any.

"You want to learn about me?"

Hazel's fingers tapped against her arm, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation. "Only so I could figure out what's actually going on here and find a way out of this nightmare."

"Now that would be a waste of time." Snow glanced out the windows; a flash of what might have been distaste slid over his features before he covered it with his practiced smoothness, "I have to admit that I'm a bit of an anomaly. I prefer my own company and that of my experiments and garden, of course."

"So you came to Seven to socialize with your lab rats?"

Snow shrugged, "Not everything I do has a secret or elaborate ulterior motive, Miss Marlowe."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

His eyes flashed, "What do you think you saw down there?"

"You, playing more games."

Snow smirked, "Just me?" Hazel narrowed her eyes as he continued, "Be honest with yourself because that is exactly what I was with your family. Though I have a feeling not all of them extended me the same courtesy."

"I told Sage to stop lying about grizzly bear trivia."

The light from her bedside lamp caught in his irises as he flashed her an amused look, "We both know Oren's history. And habits die hard."

Hazel's blood turned to icy sludge, "He's not...I swear. He's following the rules and mandates."

"Hmm," Snow murmured, his eyes pinning her in place, "And Rowan?"

Hazel bit her lip, "He's grieving."

"So you see," Snow continued, "While I do enjoy seeing you, this was more than a social call."

"Sounds elaborate and mysterious to me."

"Would you prefer it had been someone else? Gaul, maybe?"

Hazel shivered and pushed ahead, "You think she would have brought birthday gifts? Or flirted with me in front of my entire family?"

"Was I flirting?" Snow smirked, and Hazel's mouth solidified into a hard, concrete line. He licked his lips, "I've got to keep up appearances, you know."

"Appearances..." The concept ruled the man's life and by default, now hers as well. An exasperated sound escaped her, "How long are we going to continue this charade?"

Snow eyed the flowers again, "We've talked about this already."

Hazel tightened her arms around herself, shrugging her shoulders. "You've just made some vague comments about power and control, but you haven't explained anything. Not really."

"You are going to have to trust me," Snow searched her features, his lips pursed before he answered, "Because, for now, I'm not sure I have an answer that will satisfy you."

"Funny, you seem to have one for everything else."

"All I can tell you is," Snow let out a long breath, "As long as it takes."

Hazel ran a hand over her face though the battle continued in her gut, "As long as what takes?"

Snow paused, appearing to search for the right words in the wallpaper, "I promise the answer will become clear soon. You won't have to wait much longer. Though a part of me thought you might have figured it out by now."

"I've been distracted, and I don't like games as much as you do."

"I thought we weren't going to lie to each other," he teased.

Hazel shook her head, "Don't you have better things to do?"

"Who's changing the rules of the game now? You are getting quite a few answers for free."

"I would argue that you are right; they are unsatisfactory."

"Besting me at my own Game?" He teased.

"You sure you aren't just setting me up to win?" Hazel caught a sparkle shoot through his irises as he ran a thumb over his bottom lip.

"It appears we are trading truths again," he said, a hint of a smile tugged at his mouth as he continued to tap his thumb against it, "even though you owe me several, I'll settle for one."

"How do you figure?"

"Right now, I've answered your questions, even if you feel they are only partial answers. And then down there... You learned more about me than I did, you."

"Now you know I can't cook. That is something."

"Alright, how about you let me ask next because it is my birthday?"

"Was that true? About your birthday and...your family?"

Snow nodded, his eyes dropped to study her damp bandage. "I told you I wouldn't lie to you."

A pang of pity tickled at her heart, which she did her best to dampen. Hazel couldn't imagine life without her big, messy family. It was heartbreaking enough without Silus, but having no one. "I'm...sorry."

"Family can be complicated." Snow turned his attention to the icy night outside her patio windows. The light of the moon bathed his features in a cool-toned glow, though a hint of a warmer light reflected off the deep obsidian buttons on his jacket.

Hazel bit her lip; from her bedroom, she could almost make out the porch lights of Heath's home. What was more dangerous than a villain you felt pity for?

She steeled herself against her softer emotions, "What truth do you want now, Senator?"

Snow smirked, whirling his attention back to her, voice deepening, "In your interview with Lucky, you said your favorite color was blue."

Hazel shifted on her feet, uncrossing her arms so she could tug at the dampened bandage. "I did."

"Was that true?"

"That's what you really want to know?"

"I asked it, didn't I?"

Hazel's stare dropped to the blue rug beneath her feet and then to the matching recliner beside her bed. He already knew the answer. "It's true."

"Hmmm," He hummed. "That is something else we have in common. Though I am very fond of white."

"Never noticed." Hazel deadpanned.

His smile grew wider, and his blue eyes sparkled.

She almost couldn't stand the way he seemed so self-assured. She scanned the less-than-subtle cerulean details around her again. He filled her room with such items, probably less because he thought it was her favorite color and more because it was his. Maybe all of it would go into the bonfire she had been thinking of, along with her crutches and that ridiculous gold and pearl white outfit. Letting out a long breath, she added, "I've recently considered changing my favorite color."

"What would you choose instead?"

What was the opposite of blue? Hazel stared up at the ceiling, "Maybe orange..."

Snow tilted his head as he met her gaze once again, "I've considered a new favorite color myself as of late."

"Black? Or blood red, maybe?"

Snow smirked, his gaze oscillating between both of her irises, "I have grown fond of green."

Hazel felt a blush lick along her neck. Her nails dug into the sleeves of the fine material of her top, "It's my turn, Senator."

Snow nodded as he leaned back against her table, resting his palms along the edge, considering her. "Ask away."

Hazel shifted on her feet, though she remained rooted in the center of the room. "My siblings... what are their odds in the reaping?"

Snow shrugged, "The same as anyone else."

"You are certain?" Hazel fixed him with a hard look.

"I told you, no lying, remember? Their current chances are equal to any other children in this District."

"Current?"

Snow bent forward, "Let me put it this way: as far as I am concerned, they have no increased risk. As long as you don't get on the wrong side of things during the tour or the next several months, they have the same odds as anyone else."

Hazel tapped her fingers against her bottom lip. She didn't believe in odds anymore, and leaving it up to something that didn't exist wasn't good enough. She shivered at the memory of Linden lying in the grass, blood pooling over his chest, and Lily tongueless. "What if there was a way you could change the odds altogether?"

Snow tilted his head, "I am listening."

"Victor's village was your idea?"

He glanced out the window once again, pride colored his face, "It was."

Hazel gestured around her, "Quite the incentive. Anyone would dream of living in a house like this."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

His lip curled at the edge, "I'm glad it is to your liking."

"What if you could further incentivize the Districts?"

Snow raised his brows as his fingers thrummed against the edge of her desk, "Are you really giving me suggestions on the Hunger Games?"

Hazel ignored the teasing in his tone as well as the pit in her stomach at the question, "What if Victor's immediate family were exempt from the Reaping?"

A serious flash coursed through his eyes as he contemplated her.

"If they knew they could spare the rest of their siblings or maybe even their future children from being chosen, it might motivate more willing participation." Hazel pushed on, though her own words made her tongue sour, "You might get more people in the Districts willing to volunteer. I know I would..."

"Interesting concept," Snow said as Hazel's pulse thrummed in her throat. "But like you keep reminding me, I am not a Gamemaker anymore."

"You are better." The words fell out of her mouth before she could think better of them.

Snow let out a soft sound, "Trying your hand at flattery, Miss Marlowe?"

Hazel squirmed, "You are a Senator. You could lobby for a new law."

Snow crossed his arms, and his thumb went to work once again, tapping out a soft rhythm against his lips, "It is a thought-provoking idea. A self-serving one, though, if I might add." His attention flickered over her, "Not that I wouldn't try the same thing if I were in your shoes."

"So what is the problem?"

Snow let out a long sigh, turning his attention back to the pitch-black night, "I might have a difficult time convincing the other Senators."

"What about the President?"

Snow's eyes sharpened, and for a moment, she thought maybe she had said something wrong until a soft laugh left his lips. "Maybe, but I can't be sure."

"Could you bring it up to him?" Hazel's heart rate sped up at the sheer hope that surged through her that he was even considering it.

"Possibly." He drew out the word almost like a question, and she realized there was something he wasn't saying.

"For a price."

Snow shrugged. "Naturally."

Hazel shook her head in disbelief, although it was more than believable. "What do you want in return?"

"A favor."

"I thought favors only came into play if one of us refused to answer a question."

"Think of it as a birthday present."

Anything he asked of her would be worth whatever cost if it shielded her siblings from future Reapings. "Ok." Hazel's pulse quickened at the look on his face at her agreement.

"Excellent." Snow let out a soft laugh as he continued, "I believe it is my turn?"

"Go ahead."

He glanced down at the bandaging supplies and the orange bottle. "How was your visit with the doctors?"

"Why ruin the suspense? I'm sure you'll get the reports."

Snow chuckled, "Humor me."

Hazel muttered, "Clean bill."

"Doubtful." Snow hummed as he glanced at her ruined bandage before their eyes met once again, "Let me see."

Hazel froze, coughing out, "What?"

He tilted his chin at her hand, "You may not respect Dr. Savi's advice, but I will not let your hand become infected on my watch." He turned around, gathering the supplies.

Hazel didn't move; she merely watched him arrange the items on her desk. "Come here, Miss Marlowe," he replied in a deep yet soft command.

Hazle fought with the pulse, whispering in her ears, "Since when did you become medically trained?"

"You forget that I was a peacekeeper at one time." Snow ripped open the package of gauze squares and removed his gloves.

Hazel wanted to protest or petulantly tell him she would rather jump out the window, but her better judgment rang in her head like a warning bell. Her legs felt like they were covered in rain-drenched mud as she followed his direction.

Once she closed the distance, he held out his hand, waiting. With a long sigh she placed her injured one in his, palm up. His face flickered with satisfaction as his fingers skirted the edges of hers. His touch was cool yet teasing, much like his personality.

"So, um, what did you mean?" She stammered.

He picked at the tape holding the bandage in place, "You'll need to clarify, Miss Marlowe."

Hazel fought to steady herself, "What you said..." Her face warmed, "when we were washing dishes."

Snow paused his movements, "Not clear enough for you?"

"Since when are you clear?"

The sinkwater-drenched tape gave way beneath his hands. "Suffering and pain can both be wise teachers as well as powerful allies if you allow them."

Slowly, he removed the old wrapping. Her skin warmed, yet it also felt refreshed. She almost sighed in relief as the sludgy bandage was removed. "Speaking from experience?"

"Yes."

"What lesson have you learned then?"

His thumb skirted along the scarred skin of her now bare hand, "The only trees that survive the storms are the ones that have learned to bend. Such flexibility often comes with experience and not without a few cracks in the branches or twigs being snapped."

A splintering trunk, shattering branches, and the sound of her own feet against the arena's floor rang in her ears. His words brought the memory of the falling redwood crashing through her mind like it was the arena itself. Hazel sucked in a deep breath of rose-scented air, "Too bad those trees in the arena didn't have such an advantage."

"Still defending yourself with jokes, Miss Marlowe?"

"No jokes, Senator. How do you know I won't be a failed experiment, like one of your engineered redwoods?"

His jaw twitched, "The difference is, that is entirely up to you."

Hazel let his words sink in. Was she bending with the storm or merely waiting to shatter?

He let out a deep sigh, "When you learn that for yourself, you will realize the power that follows."

"So that is what you have done?" Hazel whispered, glancing at the windows, "Turned your suffering into your ally?"

"I did eat all of that cabbage, didn't I?"

Hazel let out a laugh, "Guess I'm not the only one who has a talent for rising to a challenge."

"I'll gladly await your next one," Snow's voice was tinged with intrigue.

"I'm not sure I can say the same."

"Time will tell."

"Careful, Senator. It makes me think you've been spending time with more than just your experiments when you quote Dr. Gaul. Besides, I think your theory is flawed."

"Oh? How so?"

"If suffering gave you power," She huffed. "I would be the bloody President by now."

Snow's stare was riveted to her face as he paused for a moment before he said, "I think you don't realize the influence you have."

"So much that I can't even leave my room unescorted."

"Your supervision is not to confine you, just to protect." Snow murmured, "And you seem to have warmed up to your security."

Hazel nodded, "I'm sure Sable is just about to ask for a change of assignment."

Snow resumed his inspection of her hand, though his gaze fell on the padlock as he continued, "I've heard you gave him the slip."

"Just the once. Not that I haven't been tempted to run away again."

Snow faltered, "I was tempted once."

Hazel stared up at him, "To run away?"

Snow piled the ruined bandages on the desk. "Yes."

She couldn't picture such a sacrilegious idea. The Prince of Panem, abandoning his kingdom? "What stopped you?"

His features darkened, and his focus was unwavering on her hand, "I realized where I belong, where I was meant to be. Who I was meant to be. Who I was all along."

"And who are you?"

"A winner, Miss Marlowe." His voice rose with conviction, "I discovered my purpose. My power. And maybe, someday, you will find and accept your own."

A heavy silence fell between them, and Hazel was grateful for the low light of the room, hiding her flushed face. What purpose did any of them have in the Districts? Besides keeping her family safe, what else was there? And she was no winner, no champion, no victor. Not a real one.

"So, no more seeing mysterious ghosts in the woods, then?" Snow finally asked, dragging her away from her spiraling thoughts.

Hazel's body grew even more rigid. "No." It wasn't technically a lie.

"I had the peacekeepers search a ten-mile radius from the cemetery, you know."

Surprise surged through her. "You did? Did you find anything?"

"Didn't seem right to dismiss it as hallucinations without doing due diligence." Snow grabbed a clean square of gauze and sprayed a few pumps of wound cleanser in the center. "And no, we didn't find anything."

Hazel looked away, biting down on her cheek as he began to clean the nearly healed sections of her palm. "I appreciate that you at least looked. Sable just assumed I'd lost it." The coolness of the cleanser grounded her, though he seemed to be watching her face more than what he was doing.

Snow's eyebrows shot up. "Did you just compliment me?"

Hazel let out a cotton-soft hiss as the cleanser met the wound's raw center. "My turn again?" She fought against the stinging as Snow conceded with a subtle nod for her to continue, "The cassette."

Snow's expression shifted, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He dropped the now-bloody squares of gauze onto the table. "Ahh, yes. Bothering you, is it?"

Hazel said nothing, but she was sure her face told him everything he needed to know.

"That's an answer better shown than told," he replied, laying a fresh, absorbent, nonstick pad over the center of her wound.

"Then show me."

Snow snorted as he wrapped the gauze roll around her palm, taping it down with ease. "In time, Miss Marlowe."

"So, does this mean you owe me a favor now?"

"I'm not refusing to answer." He gathered the materials he'd removed, his gaze drifting to the garbage can tucked beneath her desk. Suddenly, he bent down, reaching for something. When he straightened, the deep blue rose, which had barely wilted, was cradled in his hands. It was the exact one he had told Lily earlier that he had cultivated himself. "It's just something I'll show you," Snow continued, his voice unnerving yet light as he twirled the damaged flower. "Dinner and a movie, perhaps?"

Hazel forced herself to stay composed despite the unease crawling under her skin. "Fine."

Snow's grin sharpened. "Then, it's a date."

Hazel's stomach churned as he rested the gradient blue rose in the vase beside the deep pink wildflowers. With a contented sigh, he tossed the leftover bandage materials into the garbage.

"When?" Hazel asked.

"Maybe after the Victory Tour. Or maybe during..."

Hazel frowned. "The Tour? Why would you be there?"

Snow's smile widened as he leaned in, "It's not your turn quite yet."

Hazel met his stare directly.

"You know, this has been one of my better birthdays." Snow's blue eyes seemed a few shades darker as he replaced his gloves and walked toward her. "Now, about that favor you owe me." His dress shoes were silent as he closed in on her.

Hazel fought not to stammer as he paused just an arm's length away, "What would that be?"

Snow reached toward her, and she resisted the temptation to flinch. He captured a lock of crimson easily, pulling it closer, gently. His voice deepened as he ran the strand of her hair through his gloved fingers. "From now on. I want you to call me Coriolanus."

Hazel's pulse drummed against the hollow of her neck as her voice weakened. Coriolanus? It felt wrong, too personal, and much too familiar.

"That's what you want?"

He twirled the strand like it was a rose's stem. "It is."

The request was like stepping too close to the shore of an inky pond, where dark, undulating shadows swirled just out of sight. She was teetering on the edge of something dangerous. Repressing a shiver, she brushed it off. It's only a name. "Um... all right."

His face brightened, almost as if he'd won a secret victory. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"It's not until spring." Hazel swallowed.

"Not my question. I know when it is."

Of course, he did. What did she want? There were so many answers to that question. But one word rang through her mind like a trumpet. "Freedom," she breathed.

Snow paused, staring into her eyes as though he was studying her very soul. "Hmmm." He leaned in, hovering too close, scanning every feature of her face. Then, with a faint smile, he murmured, "I'll see what I can do."

Hazel pulled back, struggling to steady her breathing. His grasp on her hair loosened, and he let it fall away. She tucked it behind her ear as she put distance between them. Awkwardly, she moved to her closet, opened the doors, and pulled out his maroon coat.

"Wouldn't want to break up your collection." She held the garment out to him, fighting to keep her hands from shaking. He took the coat from her as she remarked, "Looks like you are right; some tastes never change."

He chuckled, running his hand over the material. "That, and my cousin makes these for me."

Hazel reconsidered the jacket; it was well-tailored—professional, even. "She's very talented."

"She is." His face lit up with a genuine smile. "Tigris designs for some of the most wealthy in Panem. Even President Ravinstill and his family. She even made the outfit you wore for the Victor's parade."

There was absolutely no burning it now. "She has excellent taste. Give her my thanks."

"I will," His smile dimmed as his eyes grew nostalgic, "I'm just glad she makes anything for her dear old cousin anymore, though, as you can tell, her favorite color is maroon. She says the color suits me."

"It does," Hazel said without thinking.

Snow's eyes flashed, his eyebrows lifting. Hazel coughed, practically throwing herself toward the door. "Uh... it's getting late." She snatched the thick, fur-lined navy coat Indira had gifted her as she escaped into the hallway, "Let's make sure you don't miss that train."

As she draped the coat around her, she barely heard him whisper, "They won't leave without me." She didn't turn back. She was already halfway to the staircase.

The entire household paused their chatting, heads swiveling toward the stairs. Hazel held herself back from skipping every other step. Behind her, Snow's politician smile graced his face as he glided down to the first floor like royalty. Once at the bottom, he offered a slight bow.

"It was wonderful to meet you all. Thank you again for your generous hospitality."

Her family wished him goodbye with varying levels of enthusiasm as Hazel threw open the front doors and stepped out into the biting cold. The sooner she got him out of the house, the sooner this current nightmare would end. Snow followed behind slower than she would have liked. Once he slid over the threshold, she closed the doors without another word to the curious crowd inside.

He strode out into the blur of flakes, tightening his coat around himself and tucking his other coat under his arm. As he turned back toward Hazel's frozen form on the porch, she paused. He appeared like an unnatural being. Surrounded by the puffs of ice glitter that were nearly the same color as his hair, he looked like some fallen frost-covered angel.

"Good luck, Miss Marlowe. Try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone."

"Don't think the odds favor either of us in that regard."

Snow chuckled as he watched her for a moment, her hair whipping along her shoulders as shining particles danced on the back of the wind, twirling around and between them.

"You shouldn't change it, you know."

"What?"

"Your favorite color." He stepped back, still watching her. "It suits you."

"Good evening, Coriolanus," Hazel murmured; his name was like honeyed poison on her tongue. His face shifted at the sound of his name, and the color of his eyes deepened, like the ocean the farther you sank into it.

"See you very soon, Miss Marlowe." With a slight bow and a subtle wink, he strode through the piled snow to a waiting car.

Her heart was racing, and her good palm was damp with perspiration despite the ice in the air. What was all of that? Did she even want to know?

Hazel shook. No. Her fragile mind was already on the edge of crumbling. Maybe she would be one of those trees that didn't master the art of bending with storms after all.

Whispering mingled with the growing wind, pulling her attention back to her more than likely eavesdropping family. As Hazel reentered the house, Sage and Lily scrambled back from the front windows.

Hazel huffed, rolling her eyes as she pulled off her coat. The air inside felt thick and far too silent, with every eye riveted on her. She shook loose the ice crystals trapped in her hair and turned to the little audience.

"What did he say?" Lily asked, peeking over the back of the couch.

Hazel glanced at the axe rack as she hung up her coat. "Uh, he likes the color of my coat."

Lily's face crumpled. "That's not very romantic."

"Thank God for that," Rowan grumbled.

"Lily," Fern scolded.

Hazel spun to face her little sister, who was clearly caught up in the whirlwind of Snow's charm.

Sable leaned against the wall. "He's playing the long game." Festus nodded in agreement, while Leo kept his gaze glued to some middle distant point.

Hazel wanted to melt into a puddle from sheer embarrassment as she fled toward the stairs.

"Oh dear, come join us by the fire," Fern called.

"Thanks mom, but I'm tired..." Hazel murmured as she reached the staircase. "It's been a long day."

"But—" Fern started to protest, yet stopped as Oren leaned toward his wife, resting a hand over hers.

"Let her rest," he said, his gaze softening as he met Hazel's eyes. "She's right. It has been a long day."

Hazel sent him a grateful wince.

"I agree," Indira said, gathering her things and gesturing to Festus. "We will collect you for Tour preparations tomorrow."

"Can't wait. Goodnight," Hazel practically slurred as she bounded toward the second floor.

Her family and her Capitol friends wished her goodnight in unison, with the exception of Rowan, who merely studied her with veiled concern as she left them in the wake of the evening's drama.

Hazel didn't leave the comfort of her bedroom for the rest of the night. Her emotions were ragged, her mind weary. She could hear Festus and Indira saying their goodbyes before leaving. Then, one by one, her family retreated to their own rooms. Leo took his spot in the solid chair just outside her door.

Several hours later, once the house had quieted and the wind howled, protesting against the windows, Hazel still lay wide awake. She memorized the texture of the ceiling as her thoughts swirled relentlessly, like the particles of ice caught in the gusts. The night's events replayed like an embarrassing movie, torturing her as she rethought every word and action. She waded through the agony of it, searching for the answer to a question she knew she should have figured out by now.

Why?