A sudden wind cut through the square, rushing over the crowd and curling itself around Snow. It was as if the weather itself was a part of the audience. It whipped the edges of his coat like a cerulean flag caught in a storm. A lock of his silver blonde hair slid forward, falling across his forehead, the platinum ends curling ever so slightly. Somehow, the small imperfection made him even more unsettling, more mesmerizing, more human.

“Miss Hazel Marlowe, we’ve been waiting,” Snow called into the microphone, lips twisting. "Join us."

The roar of hands slapping together broke through the air, eventually crescendoing into hollers for her to join him on stage. While the crowds in Twelve and Eleven hadn’t been small, this was another beast altogether. And with nothing more than Snow’s nudge of encouragement, they were practically roaring.

The coaxing breeze pushed and tugged at her limbs as though even the elements demanded her presence on that stage.

Beside her, Lucky soaked in the applause as if it were a steaming cup of rich chamomile. His body relaxed, his eyes fluttered, and she swore he bit back a soft moan of approval.

She shifted her body slightly away from the bizarre man. Despite the south being at least thirty degrees warmer than home, Hazel shivered. Her body was colder than it had been in the District Seven cemetery in the center of a blizzard. Her limbs agreed with the sentiment and refused to cooperate fully.

Lucky’s voice shattered through the surface of her frozen state, “Don’t be shy.” With a soft pull on their linked arms, he guided her forward.

Even her feet resisted, toes curling in the foreign shoes, but his arm was a fleshy hook, dragging her toward the inevitable.

The windowless slaughterhouse loomed in her periphery.

Were cattle just as aware of their fate as she was of hers?

A sudden rush of empathy filled her.

What a familiar yet sickening feeling it was to be led to a fate beyond one's control.

“Nervous?” Lucky whispered. His fingers tapped against her forearm.

“Just…excited.” Hazel pushed out the lie with another awkward smile.

Before them, the crowd hastily parted a haphazard path. Some of their own volition and others with the encouragement of a peacekeeper's baton.

Swallowing down the anxiety taking residence in her esophagus, she allowed herself to be dragged forward.

All along the path, Capitol press swarmed. Cameras flashed and clattered like corn over the stove. Popping so sporadically that she couldn’t tell where the next shutter snap would come from. Each one caused the tightening of the already tense muscles of her neck.

The world blurred around her, reduced to a sticky web with Snow at the center. He continued to watch her be led to him with a satisfied expression. With every step closer, it was as if his smile grew brighter, and the blue in his irises deepened until they nearly matched the rich sea-soaked blue of his long coat.

Her one solace was Leo’s steady breathing, just behind her shoulder. His head was straight and stiff. His fingers hovered just above his weapon. Scanning the gathering in a rigid yet practiced pattern, he whispered, “Keep breathing. We are almost there.”

She did her best to follow his command, sucking in a deep, putrid lungful. Despite the discomfort the odor was at least grounding.

Before she knew it, they were ascending the stage’s steps. One of her lilac-toned heels slid harshly as it met the first one. Her leg wobbled like it was made of damp pasta, nearly dumping her onto her head.

The weatherman’s grip suddenly tightened. Behind her, a large, warm hand pressed against her shoulder blade, solid and steadying. She didn’t even have to look behind her to know it was Leo.

A finger tapped against her ribs three times as he waited for her to find her footing. The barely perceptible gesture sent a wave of comfort that eroded at least partially some of the terror. Once she was righted on her two feet, his strong palm slid away

“Thank you,” she whispered without looking backward.

The weatherman beamed with a too bright grin, “Don’t mention it.”

She half winced and half smiled at Lucky, “Ok, so maybe a little nervous.”

Lucky grinned, eyes flickering to the intimidating man on the stage and then back. “Understandable, my dear.”

With a few more steps, she successfully reached the top of the platform. With a deep sigh and another backward glance, she scanned the crowd. From the elevated position, it was much easier to see the sheer number gathered.

Beyond the flood of Capitol colors, just behind the ropes, they didn’t wave gleaming banners or wear embroidered silks. Instead, their faces were harder, clothing crafted from dull-toned fabric scraps, with the stains of blood and flesh the only contrast.

Two district citizens caught her attention in particular. First, was a beautiful yet gaunt-looking woman. She had to be close to Fern’s age, with long, midnight-toned hair that cascaded to her elbows. Her features were sharp yet feminine. Between shivering hands she held a picture of a girl who could be a smaller version of herself.

Mia.

Beside her was a young man with dark skin, deep-set eyes, and a weariness that made him seem older than he probably was.

Both of his eyelids were raw, with sickly purple hollows just beneath his lower lashes. His clothing was worn, though he did not have the viscera-colored stains like the others.

He also held a photo; this one was of Aaron. Hazel met his gaze for a second.

The boy waiting for Aaron, the one who promised to take care of his father if he didn’t come home…

Brindle.

With another tug on her arm, her attention was pulled sharply back to the matter at hand. Lucky continued to chatter beside her, though his words were mushed into the background of her thoughts.

Just like the rest of the crowd, her gaze shifted as she crossed the platform. She could no longer avoid the inevitable. Once again, she met Snow’s piercing scrutiny. It seared over her, and she reminded herself to keep moving and pray he didn’t notice her trembling. Though the wry smile that graced his lips didn’t instill much confidence in that particular hope.

He stretched his arms in a welcoming gesture, his coat continued to flow around him. It was like she was being sucked into his gravitational pull. Suffocated by the tornado of his presence.

“Miss Marlowe, it has been far too long.” His words were oddly toned, meant partially for her and partially for their captivated audience.

Once she was nearly within arm’s reach, she plastered on a soft but not too bright smile as she faced him, “It has. Congratulations on your candidacy, Coriolanus.”

Snow’s eyes sparkled a fraction at the statement.

“Oh! This is new.” Lucky squeezed her forearm, pressing closer, “On a first-name basis, are we?”

She had hoped Lucky would let it slide. Yet it seemed Snow knew exactly what he was doing.

Hazel swallowed. “It’s a recent development.”

Lucky winked at the crowd, “Sure, sure it is my dear.”

The front row giggled, their eyes darting between the three. Some almost appeared to be holding their breath, witnessing the anticipated reunion in person.

“Don’t give her too hard of a time, Flickerman.” Snow stepped toward the two, “It is only natural.” He smirked down at Hazel, “Between friends.”

The gathering of Capitol citizens gossiped amongst themselves.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Warmth pooled along the skin of Hazel’s neck and face. Snow was here flirting with her in front of the nation while death hung in the air all around them. Both figuratively and literally.

“A few developments indeed,” Lucky cooed toward the audience before addressing Snow once again. “And no need to worry about me, Senator. I won’t tease your new friend too much more, I promise.”

“Um… well…don’t let me interrupt you.” Hazel addressed Snow directly, “I’m sure what you have to say has to be more interesting.”

“So modest.” Snow joked, sending a soft look out to the crowd. “I'm almost certain they have heard enough from me for the moment. I believe they would much rather listen to you, my dear.” He turned his shoulders until he faced the gathering directly, “What do you all think?”

An almost unanimous collective agreement rushed into the air.

Swinging himself back to face her, Snow shrugged, “Seems the people have spoken.”

Lucky released her arm, patting her on the shoulder in a silent, grinning encouragement.

Hazel inched nearer to the microphone and Snow. Varying emotions surged through her as she did. Anger, confusion, suspicion, and curiosity were just some that battled for control.

Once she was before him, his eyes cooled several shades darker despite the sun up above. Without a word, he bent at the waist. Hazel locked her jaw, memories of her dream seizing her. Willing herself away from his touch, she buried her hands in the fine folds of her dress.

His eyes roved over her, charting the lines of her face before drifting downward to her balled fists. With a hint of a smirk, he moved closer.

Not that she could even if she wanted to. And by all means did she.

His scent swallowed her whole; lush, overripe, like rose petals steeped in sugar. It was no longer a shadow in her sleep, but a presence, as real as the man towering over her.

Warm floral breath ghosted over her ear. “Try not to flinch.”

Her insides squirmed. As it seemed did the entirety of the crowd. They fussed over his gesture, whispering to one another.

A rising sense of challenge overwhelmed her, tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

The blonde curl twirled against his forehead

He isn’t the only one who could play this stupid game.

She leaned in, fingers unsteady as they breached the space between them. His stillness was immediate. His shoulders locked though it was hidden masterfully beneath a veneer of tight control. Almost.

Reaching forward, she slid her fingers over the loose blonde strand. It was softer than she imagined. Considering it was always slicked back, she had expected it to have the texture of sap, lacquer or maybe the polish Mayor Kettleberry used on his car. Instead, it was more like the downy feathers of a baby robin.

His scrutiny was blinding as he let her touch him. Merely watching her with hawk like precision.

A part of her immediately regretted the boldness, but the other part reminded her he had started this game, and he was due more than a little payback.

With as steady of a breath and touch as she could manage, she tucked it back into place. Smoothing it down with her fingertips. “You aren’t the only one with surprises up your sleeve,” She breathed just loud enough for him to hear.

He straightened, and she moved to pull away from him. With a smooth yet quick grasp, he caught her retreating hand.

She bit back a surprised sound as his gloved fingers curled around hers.

With a too-deep laugh, he raised the captive appendage to his lips. Without blinking, he laid a hint of a kiss against her knuckles.

The Capitol visitors purred like they were witnessing something romantic instead of a chess move and two people planning their next play.

She wanted to snatch her hand away but resisted the urge. Instead, she kept her face still, though her fingers shivered in his grasp.

All of it stoked the bubbling excitement in the air. “Friends…indeed.” Lucky scoffed and let out a sharp whistle. The Capitol people in the crowd giggled in agreement.

Snow gripped Hazel’s palm slightly harder as he pulled her to the microphone. Finally releasing her as he addressed the crowd, “Everyone, I have the pleasure of introducing to you a very special Victor. Miss Hazel Johanna Marlowe.”

Both sections of the crowd clapped, and there were a few cheers, though the movement seemed to stir up the metallic gritty scent in the air even more.

“Let's see what your sleeves have in store.” Snow murmured in the space between them.

With that, Snow backed away, though his eyes remained locked on her. Murmuring as he passed behind her so softly, an argument could be made that it was just the wind. “I’m quite looking forward to it actually.”

Even as he joined her three guards, Festus, Augustus, and Indira, at the side of the stage, his attention never wavered.

Sucking in a trembling inhale, Hazel pulled the fresh speech from her pocket. She folded it open, leaning toward the waiting microphone. “Good Afternoon. Thank you for your warm welcome.” She glanced down at the page. Thick black lines covered much of the text, making a scattered, harsh patchwork of words that seemed to blend. The more they merged, the faster her heart rate seemed to spike.

Redacted...Right...

A hint of a blue-tinged braid and beady tan eyes flared through her periphery. Beside him was a flash of blonde hair. The errant curl fell back over the Senator’s face as he tilted his head.

She met the slightly worried expressions of Mia’s mother and Brindle. Today, they would watch her speech, and in the morning, they would witness their Mayor’s execution.

From celebrating her life to ending another in such a short time, it was revolting.

Here, she was balancing on a tightrope between the two worlds. In ridiculous footwear, no less.

Capitol or District?

Augustus's words rang in her ears, “You are a Victor.”

She met the grief-drenched stares of her ally's loved ones. Not without them, I am not.

This District may kill all day long, but she knew who the butchers were.

The real ones didn’t wear blood on their hands but neon embroidered scarves, silky lace gloves, and feathered hats.

With the best fashion, they led a new group of lambs to the slaughter every year.

What does that make me?

The last lamb standing.

Her eyes fell on her colorful heels.

They can coat me in gold, cover my bruises in glitter, dress me up like something sacred…but I will never be their idol.

Nor their sacrifice turned pet.

If that is what they wanted, they should’ve chosen someone else.

With a shaky breath, she folded the speech in half. “District Ten holds a special place in my heart. While I’ve never been here before, I feel like I have because of your tributes. They were brave and strong and everything I could have asked for in alliance partners. You all should be proud. Such tributes bring honor to you all.”

Hazel met the stare of Mia’s mother. “Mia….was…”Her voice tightened with a sudden rush of emotion, “Mia was beautiful.”

The woman’s lips quivered, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Even from across the distance, Hazel could see the way her eyes shone with held-back tears.

“She was courageous, strong, and kind. One of the bravest girls I’ve ever known. I like to think I saw myself in her, but the truth is—she was better than I could have ever hoped to be.”

She forced every ounce of conviction into her words as if she were only speaking to the one person she needed to. “I know it doesn’t change what happened but…your daughter was a hero.”

Hazel’s voice wobbled as the memories of streaks of blood and Mia’s screams rushed her senses. “Even with severe injuries, Mia placed our well-being before her own. Through her sacrifice, she saved those of her alliance…She saved my life and that of my brother. I will never be able to repay what she selflessly gave.”

“There are those that would call such acts weakness.” She swallowed hard, refusing to look back at Snow, “They couldn’t be more wrong. To give your own life to save others. Near strangers even? That is not weak. It is the highest and rarest of strengths.”

Mia’s mother’s attention dropped to her feet, and she wiped at her eyelids. Beside her, Brindle seemed to be attempting to console the woman, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders.

Hazel’s mouth went dry. Her tongue was suddenly welded to its roof.

What I wouldn’t give for some water.

The thought sparked a muted laugh. Water in the desert? The last time she’d wished for that, it had been delivered courtesy of a monstrous falcon. That memory brought her back to the desert, the sand, and inevitably, to Aaron and Mia.

Glancing back up at the curious-looking crowd, she saw them both again. The two had now woven their way into the square, watching her with the same pained expressions.

Not now. Not now.

Hazel closed her eyes.

Desperately, she tried to force away the images and focus on the present moment. She was here, alive and well. Mia and Aaron were not, not really.

They are gone. Forever. Both of them.

I am here, and they are not.

No.

That wasn’t quite right.

Hazel shivered as an image re-carved itself into her mind. Aaron’s lifeless body, draped in black, the waves lapping at the shore where his life had been lost.

I am here because they are not.

Her eyes snapped back open as she crushed the speech in her left palm, squeezing the thick paper into a ball. “Speaking of strength.”

It was as if the entire town square held its breath. A tense hush settled over the crowd.

“Few displayed more than Aaron Shepherd.”

Brindle’s head spun back to her, and his eyes doubled in size. All around them, whispering filtered through the throng of people like falling rain.

Indira swayed back and forth on her heels, chewing her pinky nail. Festus had his arms crossed, hiding a small smirk behind his folded fist. Augustus was rigid, while Snow seemed more than engrossed.

Bellona and Sable both appeared unsurprised, while Leo’s face hardened into a knowing concern.

She glanced down at her left fist, “He was a formidable tribute and a steadfast ally. There were moments when he could have…taken an easier path. But he didn’t. That says more about his character than anything else ever could. If things...had been different, if he had been given the chance, I have no doubt he would have been a great leader.”

Brindle gave a barely perceptible nod, his face drawn, his shoulders squared, but his eyes shone.

Gripping the microphone, she clung to it like a buoy as she held his stare. “Like his father.”

Gasping rushed over the square. The district citizens watched her with bated breath and clear shock. Capitol elite’s shared nervous looks of confusion.

Hazel looked over her shoulder, locking her gaze with Snow for a fraction of a second.

She wasn’t quite done. And the way his lip twitched and his head tilted slightly, he knew it.

“I know Coriolanus shares my desire to honor the vanquished while also upholding our great nation’s rule of law.”

He can't punish me here, not in front of the cameras.

Besides, the Capitol loves a spectacle, and based on how they responded to her so far….

Maybe Snow wasn’t wrong about her having power after all.

A soft smile graced her lips, and he reciprocated the gesture.

Let’s play.

Sucking in a deep breath and pulling her hair over her shoulder, she refocused once again on Brindle and Mia’s mother.

Behind them, acrid smoke pooled out from the slaughterhouse’s chimney.

We lambs need to stick together.

“After a thorough investigation, Senator Snow has determined that the allegations against Mayor Shepherd were found to be unfounded and lacking sufficient evidence.” Hazel let her words settle for a second before continuing, “All charges against him will be dropped effective immediately.”