Hazel’s very soul tingled, torn between the sudden urge to flee and the opposite instinct to freeze completely.
The uncertainty of her risk's aftereffects clawed at her nerves.
Exclamations rippled through the dazed crowd like a boulder plowing into a tranquil lake. The air shimmered with the force of the shockwaves, spreading outward, reaching deeper into District Ten.
Capitol citizens exchanged unsure glances. Behind them, the District people had a much more enthusiastic reaction. Many clapped and shouted. A few dabbed at the welling tears. Others clasped their hands in gratitude.
Brindle collapsed to his knees. His shoulders rocked as he sobbed into his cupped hands. Mia’s mother knelt beside him, running her palm over his head, whispering in his ear.
Despite herself, Hazel cast a defiant glance at the side of the stage.
Indira had a hand over her mouth, struggling to find an appropriate expression. Festus rubbed at his eyebrows. Though, a wickedly amused look broke through his features whenever he glanced at Augustus. The new Gamemaker was as stiff as a dead trunk, features waffling between a deathly glare and an unconvincing indifference. The latter was surely for the crowd’s benefit.
But it was the man beside him who captivated her attention. Snow’s fingers danced over his chin. His face did not move, the knowing smirk carefully cemented in place. However, something unspoken swelled behind his eyes. She swore it resembled respect but laced with something charged.
It was then that she sensed peacekeepers converging on her. It was doubtful they would allow her to say much else.
I need to convince them to go along with this. All of them.
Hazel tightened her grip on the microphone, “We should all continue in our efforts to make our great country prosper. Mayor Shepherd, I’m sure, will be renewed in his commitment to your District and, more importantly, to Panem. As we all should.” She cleared her throat, the metallic chill of the microphone brushing her lips. “Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.”
Cheers erupted from both Capitol and District citizens, their voices blending into something almost unified.
Just then, a firm hand found her shoulder, and Sable’s gravelly voice was in her ear, “Time to go, trouble.”
With a final glance at Brindle, she tore her eyes from the pulsating, clapping people.
Snow was just behind him, ready to take over the microphone. He studied her like a formidable opponent. She almost swore she could hear him whispering. Nice move.
Snow transfixed the crowd with a pearly white grin. Raising his hands it was as if he could smooth the waves through sheer charm. He leaned into the microphone, basking in the deafening approval.
“She is as right as she is striking, folks. And there is nothing- Nothing more important to me than Panem’s future. What holds us upright, what keeps us from collapsing into the chaos of the past, is rule and order.” His gaze caught Hazel’s as she was pulled toward the stairs, his expression sharp with a challenge all his own. “But order alone is not enough. Justice must be balanced. And I assure you, when I am President, Panem will be governed with a hand that is firm but fair. I will do whatever it takes to guarantee our nation will not be dragged back into the ruin of our predecessors.”
Those in the gathering fed off the excitement, murmuring approval at Snow’s declaration.
The next few minutes were a chaotic whirlwind. Hazel was ushered quite rapidly from the stage through the throngs of elated people. As the news of the freeing of their mayor seeped into the outer parts of the District, the streets erupted in shouting and hollering. Peacekeepers converged down every road and alleyway, working to mitigate any overly enthusiastic demonstrations.
The visiting Capitol citizens also seemed to be caught up in the fervor of the District, though their excitement was notably dimmed when the promised autographing session was abruptly canceled.
Augustus was all but simmering as he announced that there would be another time for such activities. He clearly struggled to maintain his composure as he encouraged all the Capitol visitors to join them in District Four.
With another hot command from him to an unfamiliar peacekeeper, she was separated from her guards as well as Festus and Indira.
The mass drowned out her mentor’s protests and Indira’s attempts to calm him.
With that, Hazel was unceremoniously herded out of the square and into a prepared bedroom within the mayor’s house. Once inside, her strange guards said nothing as the door was slammed behind her. The telltale shadow of peacekeeper boots darkened the gap under the door.
She wasn’t going anywhere. Not for a while.
The room was odd. It was full of simple furniture, including a cheap particle board desk, similar-looking chairs, and a small lumpy sofa covered in black and white cow spots. The handles and various adornments were crafted from pearly white slivers of bone. Thick hides were slung on the walls. A ceramic statue of a giant horned steer stood before a small shelf of leather-bound books. A sheepskin rug furled out before it. Even the bedding was made of a black fur blanket.
Despite the heat of the room, her limbs were shaking like frostbite was creeping in. Dropping into the closest chair, she raked her nails across her scalp.
Did I do the right thing? Maybe I really have gone insane.
After several minutes of trying to calm her nerves, she couldn’t stand her thoughts any longer. Restless energy burned under her skin. She couldn’t just sit there.
With that, she rose and swung open the door.
The two unfamiliar peacekeepers who had shoved her in there immediately turned, fingers twitching over their weapons. A slight expression of surprise colored their features.
One barked out, “Ma’am, I am going to have to ask you to remain in the room.”
Hazel expected as much, but a flash of blue down the long hallway to her right caught her attention. Augustus’s hair was flipping wildly as he spoke.
A sliver of satisfaction coursed through her. He deserved so much more, but it was nice to see him suffering, even if just for a moment.
Standing in front of him was Senator Snow, arms folded, a beautiful mask of indifference firmly in place.
Hazel leaned further outside the room, trying to get a better look.
“Ma’am.” The peacekeeper demanded louder this time.
Hazel flinched at the abruptness.
And so did Augustus. Who was smoldering with irritation, his scowl snapping to her.
Snow followed his gaze, and his eyes met hers with a sparkling yet veiled expression.
Augustus jutted a thick finger at the peacekeepers, “Does no one listen around here? What did I tell you? Keep her in there.”
The guards nodded and again urged her backward. She stumbled into the room, twisting on the lilac heels. Again, the door shut with a deafening thud.
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Hazel didn't hesitate, darting to the corner of the room, wedging herself between the bookshelf and the ceramic steer. Flattening against the wall, she pressed her ear to its surface.
Muffled voices. One voice, in particular, was a mix of staccato growls and sharp intakes of breath.
The other was calmer and more collected and sounded like he offered a few words here or there. It was as if he was pouring ice-cold water on an open flame. The first voice shuddered and hissed in protest.
Despite her straining, she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Suddenly, her door lurched open, and Hazel jolted away from the wall. As she did, her lilac heel caught the leg of the ceramic cow. It teetered severely, threatening to fall. She grasped at it, desperately attempting to keep it from tipping.
Boots strode to her flailing form. One hand steadied her. The other gripped the statue’s horn.
“Marlowe?” Leo glanced at the wall and then at the statue, frowning deeply, “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Hazel blurted. She straightened, forcing a casual shrug. “I just bumped this.. uh… thing.”
He studied her, all humor absent from his face. His gray eyes implored hers like he was searching for something. “What was that? What are you thinking?”
Hazel hesitantly met his stare, her mouth falling open as another voice joined them in the room.
“Excellent question.” Snow’s tall frame loomed in the doorway, arms folded, watching the two carefully. “One I would like an answer to myself.”
Leo straightened, releasing the steer and backing away from Hazel. “Sir.”
Snow kept his concentration locked on Hazel as he addressed Leo, “You are dismissed, Private Drayton.”
Leo bowed in acknowledgment. “Yes, sir.” Without delay, he stepped back, closing the door behind him.
Hazel tried to ignore the sudden increase in her pulse as she put distance between herself and the fragile statue.
Snow let out an unbelieving soft laugh and shook his head. “When you said you had a surprise up your sleeve.” Folding his hands behind his back as he exhaled, “That wasn’t what I expected.”
Hazel chewed on her lip, “You seemed to recover just fine.”
“I am a politician.” Studying her from head to toe, an odd appreciation settled on his features, “And after that, you might consider such a career for yourself. Or maybe pick up gambling.”
“I know it was a risk, but…” Hazel scoffed, crossing her arms. “You owe me.”
His blonde brow twitched, “Do I?”
Hazel shrugged, “Have you forgotten our game so soon?”
"Definitely not. You can take the Gamemaker out of the game.” Snow mused, his smile unwavering. "But I suspect we’re no longer playing the same one."
Hazel peered out the window, and even from this guest room, the lights of the slaughterhouse glared back. “Not different, just higher stakes.”
Snow nodded, walking toward the desk, “I see. And the source of my debt?”
“Easy.” Hazel crossed her arms. “The tape.”
Snow ran his fingers over the cheap wood, picking at a chip in the surface. “I told you that you will find out.”
She wasn’t about to tell him what had happened the night before. “Patience isn’t a strength of mine.”
Snow nodded, “Mine is not infinite either, and you’ve created quite a predicament just now.”
Her heart lurched, but his face held no anger. That somehow only made her more nervous.
“Are you telling me freeing one innocent man from prison is outside the power of the infamous Senator Snow?” Hazel challenged.
Snow paused his picking at the desk, “What do you know of that man’s innocence?”
Hazel tapped her fingers against her bandage, “Being a part of the rebellion and wanting what is best for your district are two very different things.”
“A fine line that is often lost in my experience.” Snow’s stare moved to the bright white statute behind her. “Though it seems like those are becoming less defined as of late.”
Hazel’s pulse skipped a beat as the door flew open again.
This time, a reddened, steaming Augustus surged inside, followed closely by Indira and Festus.
The blue-haired man lumbered toward Hazel, jabbing a thick finger at her, “What part of our pre-speech review did you not understand?”
Hazel squared her shoulders, unfolding her arms as she mentally mapped where her knife rested in her bag.
Snow slid between the two with more grace than she expected. He morphed suddenly into a polished politician as he held up his palms to Augustus. He tilted his head and murmured like he was reigning in a furious bull. “Augustus, we talked about this.”
A thick finger pointed at her while Hazel continued to eye him over Snow’s shoulder. “I don’t care that you fancy her. She just made you look weak. Made the Capitol look weak.”
Indira wrung her hands while Festus interjected, “Bit dramatic, Trask.”
Augustus whirled on him, “Am I the only one who just witnessed that— that—treason?”
“It’s no more treason than rigging a reaping,” Snow’s voice was frosty, “Among other things I'm sure you aren't familiar.”
Hazel did her best to keep her mouth from falling open.
What?
Augustus seemed to instantly lose the sheer furious energy in his stance, though steam was still coming out of the man’s ears.
Something dangerously close to fear colored the edges of the Gamemaker’s expression.
Augustus looked from Hazel to Snow, “You can’t be serious.”
“Can’t I?” Snow asked with an elegant one-shoulder shrug.
“That so-called mayor is a rebel sympathizer. An enemy of the Capitol.” Augustus' voice had dropped to a boil. “He deserves to hang.”
“He’s an old man who traded a little food for lumber.” Snow glanced over his shoulder at Hazel, “Maybe traded some dreary sentiments with other Districts, commiserating over their shared perceived hardships.” He took a long stride toward Augustus. “Illegal? Sure. But is the man out directing the Districts to storm the Capitol? Hardly.”
Snow smoothed back his hair, “And you certainly ensured he paid the price for his transgressions did you not?”
Augustus crossed his arms, flipping his long braid over his shoulder, his simmering gaze intermittently flickering to Hazel.
At the moment, she was attempting to keep her face as neutral as possible while internally, her mind was flipping itself over backward.
What the hell is happening right now?
“Besides,” Snow continued, “We wanted Ten back in line. You saw how the people reacted. It seems they are now. And I’ve their mayor solidly within my pocket.” He smirked, “Couldn’t have planned it better myself.”
“What does it matter to you what those District rats think?” Augustus practically spat.
“It matters to the man who will be the President of Panem one day.” Snow’s voice cooled to ice, the seriousness seeping in so severely it felt like the room’s temperature decreased at the same time. He took another step forward toward Augustus, “I need them to have just enough hope and faith to keep rebellion as far from their minds as possible. And what could be better if I were the source of such sentiments? While we each have our roles, it doesn’t mean we can’t work together toward a common goal.”
“So that’s your grand vision? Bridging the gap between the Capitol and the Districts?” Augustus let out a hollow laugh. “A girl comes along, and you think we’re all equal now?”
“Unite? No. Equals? Certainly not.” His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “But their faith? Their loyalty? Their hope? That should belong to me.”
Augustus huffed, “Never thought a Snow would stoop so low.”
Snow stepped closer, and a flash of what looked to be fear crossed Augustus’s features, “It appears, Mr. Trask. That you don’t know me as well as you thought.”
Augustus took a step back. His own tone grew eerily calm. “You're right as always, Senator.” He again fixed his stare on Hazel before storming toward the door, “I hope it is worth it.”
“I can assure you it will be.” Augustus scoffed one last time as Snow’s stare dropped to his gloves, “Goodnight, Mr. Trask.”
Augustus’s braid flipped wildly, like a dying, flailing serpent, as he slammed the door behind him.
Festus sighed in satisfaction, “Nicely done, Coryo.”
Indira strode closer to Hazel, “Are you all right, dear?”
Hazel waved her off, still watching Snow in amazement, “I’ve no idea.”
Snow met her eyes once again, studying her with a self-satisfied lip twitch. She might have put a point on the board, but somehow, this felt like an interception, if that was even possible in this stupid game.
“So, I am guessing, no dinner tonight?” Festus asked, disappointment filling his face.
“Not tonight.” Snow conceded, shifting to address his disappointed friend.
Hazel stepped forward, “Can I at least talk to them?”
Indira shook her head, “Dear, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You are really pushing your luck.” Snow sighed, studying her. “But since you seem to be on a roll, I’ll allow it. Ten minutes.”
Hazel’s shoulders relaxed, and genuine gratitude filled her. “Thank you.”
“You might want to wait to thank me, Miss Marlowe.” Snow gestured to Indira, “Go ahead and collect the tribute’s families.”
Indira nodded, pulling the pile of clothing closer to her chest.
Snow settled his attention on Festus. “Walk with me, Fest?”
Festus nodded as Snow patted him on the back, wrapping a long arm around the other man’s shoulders, and pulled him to the door. “What’s Livia and Persephone up to these days?” Snow asked as the door closed behind them.
Indira swallowed as she dumped a bundle of pajamas in Hazel’s arms. Gripping the girl’s shoulder, she whispered with a quick backward glance at the empty room. “You can’t do that again.”
Hazel placed her hand over her escorts. “They were going to execute an innocent man.”
Indira’s grip cinched, “Promise me.”
Hazel met Indira’s heavy stare; her face shone with sincerity. “Indira…”
Indira seemed to war with herself before continuing, “I can’t… Please read the speeches the way they are written. We still have Eight Districts to go; that doesn’t even count the Capitol…”
Hazel couldn’t begin to understand what Indira had endured as an escort. Soon, she would. They would walk through that hell together. A thread of sympathy wove its way through her. “I will try.”
Indira pulled away, “You are going to have to do a whole hell of a lot better than that if you want to keep those you love safe.”
“I’m so-" Hazel argued, but her escort raised her hand, effectively cutting her off.
“See you in the morning,” Indira replied, turning on her bedazzled heels and disappearing from the room.
Hazel sank onto the midnight-colored bed, fingers pressing hard against her temples as if she could force clarity to emerge.
Thoughts tangled, emotions meshed-anger, exhaustion, unease. But above all, confusion.
She thought she was playing Snow, but it was becoming alarmingly clear that she had only stepped straight into his palm.