Hazel's stomach flipped, and it was as if the ground itself was shifting beneath her feet. She froze like a character in a play who had forgotten their lines. The audience was alive, buzzing with a sudden surge of murmurs and startled exchanges. Snow's face remained still, but his eyes sparkled while remaining fixed on her. It was only when Snow's eyebrow arched that she realized she had been staring and tore her eyes away.

Lucky reveled in the drama unfolding right in front of him. His face was alight with an almost predatory glee. "Well, there you have it, folks!" His smile stretched wide as he turned back to Hazel and Silus. "I do pride myself on my predictions! This is shaping up to be one of the most exciting games yet." He gestured for them to stand.

If she could have gotten away with it, Hazel would have sprinted from the stage. Instead, she folded the silk fabric handkerchief in her hand and tucked it away in a small pocket within her skirt. Silus's hand attached to her elbow; his grip was steady, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his fingers.

As they made their way offstage, Mia and Aaron from District Ten briefly met Hazel's eyes. Their eyebrows were raised, and curious yet confused looks colored their features. Silus managed a strained smile towards them while Hazel's cheeks began to warm.

Upon entering the waiting room, the air thickened with the silent judgment of the other tributes. Their stares held a patchwork of confusion, envy, and speculation. Hazel exhaled deeply as her face grew even warmer.

"Excellent job, team," Festus declared as Hazel and Silus approached. "The sponsor money is insane. Our funding is climbing by the minute."

Indira's face softened, and she reached out, placing a hand on Hazel's good shoulder, "Well done, dear."

Hazel sighed and nodded, willing her face to cool.

"Is anyone going to explain what's going on?" Silus demanded, his scrutiny oscillating between Hazel, Festus, and Indira. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were hard as stone, "What the hell was all that about?"

"Silus," Indira cajoled, "We are using the Capitol's rumors to our advantage. Lucky wasn't kidding when he said that there was talk in the Capitol about a secret connection between Hazel and Snow. And after that interview, it's not so secret anymore."

"It seems you're not the only one who's noticed Snow's actions," Hazel added.

Silus's voice rose, "I noticed something off, but I didn't think we'd actually play into Snow's hand. So, what now? Are we positioning Hazel as some kind of conquest for Senator Snow?"

Indira tilted her head in disagreement, but her tone was calm and understanding, "This isn't about turning Hazel into anyone's conquest. It's about survival, about using the Capitol's own game to our advantage. We're not confirming anything; we're just not denying their speculations. It keeps the sponsors interested, and that could be crucial for Hazel and your survival in the games."

"This is ridiculous," Silus countered, turning to Hazel, "And you're really okay with this?"

Hazel's eyes dropped to her hands, "Not exactly. But the reasons they've given for going along... it's hard to argue against it."

"And why wasn't I part of this decision-making?"

Festus moved closer, gripping Silus's shoulder, "We excluded you because we're aware of how protective you are. We didn't want your concerns to interfere with our strategy."

Silus's expression hardened further, "You're not wrong. This game you all are playing, it's risky. It could put Hazel in more danger...And what about Cedar?" Silus didn't flinch as he stared at Festus, "Did you know they were going to re-broadcast his death?"

Festus shook his head, "No, I had no idea they'd bring that up."

Hazel bit her lip, pushing away the haunting image of her uncle's death.

"And Dahlia? My mother?" Silus pressed, his voice rising even further.

Indira stepped in, her tone apologetic yet firm. "I'm truly sorry, both of you. I didn't anticipate they'd delve into such personal tragedies. But you must understand that the interviews are designed to be engaging, even shocking. It's unfortunate, but it makes your stories more compelling to the audience and garners sympathy."

Silus's reaction was immediate, his eyes flashing with heat. "Aren't we sympathetic enough? Both of us being here in the Games isn't enough for them?"

Indira nodded, her expression serious. "In a perfect world, yes. But this is the Hunger Games, Silus. The Capitol will do whatever it takes to heighten the drama. To make each Game more unforgettable than the last. It's not just about being tributes; it's about engaging the audience and making them invest emotionally. The Capitol is not above bringing up anything to increase viewership."

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Clearly. And getting that investment includes offering up my sister to Senator Snow?"

Hazel coughed, "I'm not being offered up. This isn't like that." Hazel gripped his arm and pulled him to a corner. Festus and Indira let them go without protest.

"Then explain it to me, Haze," Silus crossed his arms, staring straight into her eyes.

He needs to calm down. She slid closer to him, reaching out to rest her palm against his cheek. "Listen, we need the sponsor money. And this could be the difference between life and death. Getting you home alive is all that matters to me." Her voice cracked as she struggled to imagine any other outcome.

The heat in his eyes cooled as they grew shiny. His voice lowered, and his face softened, "I know you mean well, Hazel. But ... aligning yourself with Snow, it's dangerous." He sighed, pulling her hand away from his cheek. "You are working with possibly the most corrupt man in all of Panem. My life isn't worth associating yourself with someone like him."

"Your life is worth everything."

Silus let out an exasperated breath, "Think about this, Haze. Can that money shield you from them?" His outstretched finger swept towards the other tributes. They all lingered throughout the room; some were failing to be obvious about their eavesdropping.

"How much do you think the shields cost?" she asked. Silus's face remained impassive, his eyes not betraying the slightest hint of amusement. She sighed, "If it makes me more of a target than I already am, then that's a price I'm willing to pay."

"I can't condone whatever this self-sacrificial strategy you've made up with those two. And Senator Snow, apparently." Silus rubbed a hand over his face.

"It will only be for a short while." She responded. The thought of being associated with Snow did make her stomach churn. The way his eyes followed her made her uneasy. But it wouldn't be for long.

"But what if it isn't?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for understanding.

A knot tightened in her stomach, and she shook her head. "You mean if I win? Silus, the odds of that happening are..."

"But what if you do, Haze? What then? Does this whole act with Senator Snow just come to an end?" Silus's tone was heavy.

Hazel paused, the possibility hanging in the air like a thick fog.

Silus leaned in closer, his voice low and urgent. "Do you really believe Snow's involvement is just about sponsor money? That he's doing all this to help one of us win the Games and go back home?"

"I honestly don't know what Snow's motivations are."

"That's my point. Even if he is trying to help, you think if you win, he will just let you go back to Seven?"

Her throat grew dry, and she longed for cold water, "What are you suggesting?"

Silus glanced around, then leaned in, "What if he has plans beyond the Games?" The seriousness in his tone chilled her.

"I think it sounds like a conspiracy theory. Besides, this is all wasted energy anyway. I think you are worrying over nothing."

"I'm worried that I am right like I have been this whole time," he replied. He appeared to be genuinely convinced. "Haze, we need to be on the same page and the same team. You don't have to keep secrets or hide things from me. We haven't even talked about what happened with those pills. And we don't need to, but I need your trust now more than ever. Remember what Dad told us on the day of the reaping, Haze."

"I remember," Hazel replied. She remembered both the words from Heath and Oren. Such different advice from two different fathers. She shook her head, thinking of the way Heath looked at Silus after the reaping. So many emotions swirled within her, and she felt sick. "But like I said, you're going home. And if that means I have to become someone I'm not proud of, then so be it." Her voice trembled, "I won't be around to live with the guilt of it, and I'll go to my grave in peace knowing you're safe."

Silus stepped back from her, looking over to Festus and Indira, and shook his head, "You should have let the tree take them out," he muttered.

Festus turned his head, clearly having heard them, "Hey!"

Indira called for them to come sit down for the rest of the interviews.

They settled in silence, the unspoken words between them creating an invisible barrier.

The interviews finally concluded, and the tributes were ushered back to the Pantheon for a final supper. The event was swarming with the press, mentors, escorts, tributes, and a select few VIPs. Large circular tables were decorated with deep red tablecloths, and glittering gold centerpieces. The press, armed with their video cameras, littered the building.

Commander Drayton watched with a tight expression in the corner, along with a significantly higher number of peacekeepers.

At one of the head tables, Dr. Gaul engaged in conversation with President Ravinstill and his entourage. Across the room, at another large head table, Senator Snow was surrounded by a separate crowd.

Hazel and Silus, accompanied by Indira and Festus, found a table shared with District Twelve. Ruby and Ethan huddled together, casting glances at Hazel and Silus. Hazel did her best to smile as convincingly as possible, but it proved to be quite difficult.

Without the missing tributes, the space was emptier and colder. Her heart ached with the thought of their fates and Leo's, not to mention the constant reminder of what the next day would bring.

Avoxes began circulating, serving alcohol to the tables, including swirling vats of posca. Just as the group began to settle in, a Peacekeeper approached Festus and murmured something in his ear. Festus's expression lit up, his eyes scanning his tributes before nodding.

Once the Peacekeeper was gone, Festus leaned in to whisper to Silus and Hazel. "We've been invited to sit with Senator Snow."

She raised her eyes to Senator Snow's table, and this time, bright blue eyes met hers. "Of course we have," Hazel muttered, her stomach twisting into even more knots. Silus's hand closed over hers. Every fiber in Hazel's being screamed in protest at the idea of joining Snow's table, but she had played the Game. Now, he was upping the ante.

Silus spoke with a resolve that seemed to shake the very air around him. "We want to decline the invitation."

"Silus," Hazel whispered. The tension hung in the air like the heavy drapes adorning the Pantheon's walls.

Indira moved to Silus's side, "This is a significant opportunity."

"I don't care. We're staying here," Silus retorted.

Ethan and Ruby watched on, faces betraying their obvious curiosity.

"Silus," Hazel slid her hand out from beneath his and stood up, her heart pounding. She could feel the weight of the many cameras without looking.

Indira persisted, "Being invited to the head table is an honor, Silus."

"Like the 'honor' of being chosen as a tribute?" Silus shot back, now on his feet, his eyes locked with Indira's.

Before more could be said, a voice resonated from behind her, "What seems to be the problem?"

Hazel's heart leaped into her throat. Snow was standing just behind them.

Silus, unyielding, faced Snow. "We must regretfully decline your invitation, Senator."

Snow's expression did not waver; he seemed almost amused by the defiance. "Oh, really?"

Festus intervened, "What Silus means to say is no, they are not declining."

"Yes, we are," Silus cut off Festus.

"Silus, it's just dinner," Hazel murmured, leaning closer.

Senator Snow stepped closer, his demeanor calm yet commanding, "Come on, Silus, let's not cause a scene." He shifted his attention to the surrounding cameras.

Silus stood silent, his resolve unbroken. Hazel placed her hand on his shoulder, leaning in even closer to whisper in his ear. "Please. Remember, we're a team. Always." Without waiting for his reply, Hazel pulled away and turned to face Snow, mustering a smile tinged with irony, "Might as well jump feet first into the awkwardness, right?"

Senator Snow's smile broadened at her words, offering his arm. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire."

With a deep breath, Hazel looped her hand over his arm, "Seems I'm destined to burn either way, so what the hell."

Senator Snow chuckled, casting a fleeting glance at Silus before pulling with Hazel him. As they walked, the murmurs and whispers of the Pantheon's occupants followed them, their eyes fixed on the unlikely pair. The cameras trailed them as Snow guided Hazel to his table.

"I must say, I'm surprised at how well you're handling all this," Snow whispered.

"Me too," Hazel responded, her gaze meeting his. His eyes, still shimmering with that same amused look from earlier, seemed to see right through her.

Once at the head table, Snow leaned toward her, his mouth brushing her ear as he pulled out a chair, "Who's playing games now?" His face was uncomfortably close, his eyes holding a glint of mischief. Hazel quickly sat down, turning away and pulling her long hair over her shoulder. Behind her, Snow's soft laughter filled the air.

Persephone Price sat to Hazel's right, accompanied by Mia and Aaron. Next to them was August Trask, surrounded by the three victors from District Two: Caius Bane, Titus Drake, and Lysander Knox. Eve Preston was deeply engrossed in her glass of posca. Finally, Across the table, Caleb's face wore an expression of dark amusement. Silus slowly and silently took his seat next to Hazel. His stoic expression betrayed nothing, but she could practically feel the heat of his anger against her skin.

The grand hall buzzed with the low murmur of conversations, interspersed with the soft clinking of cutlery and the occasional laughter. The meal itself was unlike anything Hazel had ever experienced. The cured meats were rich and savory, contrasting with the earthiness of the herb-roasted potatoes. The steamed cabbage was tangy and salty, while the cornbread melted like butter in her mouth.

Across from her, Snow's watchful eyes seemed to be analyzing everything. Doesn't he ever enjoy himself? They were surrounded by the finest things the world had to offer, yet he seemed preoccupied. Each time their eyes met, she would look away and refocus on her plate. She scolded herself each time his lip twitched at her nervous reactions. Stop staring; this might be the last meal I ever eat.

Festus eagerly filled any lull in the chatter. He shared stories of his and Snow's past experiences at the academy. Persephone also joined in, adding her own anecdotes. They laughed over various nicknames they had for their professors, like "professor high as a kite bottom."

How they described him reminded Hazel of foreman Birch back home and his addiction to cyder. Highbottom, had died of a morphling overdose shortly after the 10th Hunger Games. Addiction was apparently a problem no matter what part of Panem you came from. Hazel ignored the posca and gulped down mouthfuls of ice water.

Hazel's attention then shifted to Aaron Shepherd, who seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact with her, his focus fixed on his plate and wine glass. Their earlier conversation in this room came back to her, leaving her with unresolved questions and a sense of unease. She had a sinking feeling that she might never get the answers she sought.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

As the dinner progressed, the conversation inevitably veered towards recent events. The name Iris Overstreet brought a somber tone to the table. Hazel learned of her roles as a mother and grandmother, as well as her career as a counselor for young adults. Augustus Trask cast disdainful glances toward the tributes from various districts as he spoke of her.

Augustus's voice was laced with contempt. "He needs to be punished severely. A public execution seems fitting."

The statement pulled Hazel from her inner thoughts, and the food in her mouth soured on her tongue.

Augustus's statement was met with nods of agreement from around the table.

Persephone, lifting her glass in a toast-like gesture, concurred, "Agreed."

"He will suffer, I assure you," Snow replied as if he were discussing the color of the napkins. "You know, Dr. Gaul. His punishment will be more creative than some mundane town square hanging." A few dry, uneasy laughs reverberated around the table.

"Do you think the rest of those tributes were all in cahoots with him? The ones that tried to escape?" Caius questioned.

Snow's gaze swept over the table as he considered Caius. "It's still unclear. Commander Drayton is still working on the investigation. He assures me that it appears that the tributes from District Eight, at least, were not involved in the escape attempt. Mr. Threader was... preoccupied that night. At this time, it appears that both events were separately orchestrated. "

Augustus scoffed and shook his head, his blue-streaked hair shifting around him. "Typical district heathens," taking a sip from his glass.

Hazel couldn't help but shudder at the thought of Ava-her young face and bright, innocent eyes and the injustice of her untimely death.

"I heard they found contraband, and there might have been outside assistance with all of these events," Persephone commented, her glass already half-empty. She refilled it, a tremor shaking her glass, the liquid sloshing on the tablecloth.

Hazel caught the eyes of Caleb his dark irises taunted her. What was she going to do? Call him out?

Caleb was still staring at her as he chimed in, "They make me embarrassed to be from a district. Those of us in District Two respect the people of the Capitol and would never be involved in such an attempt."

She fought not to roll her eyes as Caleb continued, "I just wish I had caught on sooner to what they were planning so I could have intervened."

Augustus patted Caleb's back, "If only more people in the districts were like you, my boy, we wouldn't even need these Games."

Hazel's left side tingled at the memory of Caleb pushing her against the fridge. "You really didn't know anything about the escape attempt?" she questioned before she could stop herself.

Caleb's eyes flashed, and he appeared surprised she would actually question him. Silus looked up from his plate at that. "Haze," he warned.

"Absolutely not." Caleb responded by looking directly at her and then at the other people at the table.

"Why would you ask that?" Augustus intervened, fixing his scrutiny on her.

"No reason." Her eyes briefly met Snow's, who was observing the exchange with an attentive, calculating gaze.

"How do we know you weren't in on it seven?" Caleb challenged.

"I'm not reckless enough to consider escaping an actual option," she replied, her tone taking on an ice-like quality.

Augustus chimed in, "Right you are, Miss Marlowe; trying to escape is not only foolish but also a grave insult to the Capitol."

Caleb, relishing the moment, added with a smirk, "Precisely." He then turned his attention back to Hazel, his expression shifting to one of mock curiosity. "You know, now that I think about it, I couldn't help but notice you were downstairs with the tributes from Districts nine, six, and three that night. Without your brother around, too." Caleb looked over at Silus, smirking. Silus tensed, his posture stiffening. "He's usually connected to you at the hip. So I thought it was odd. I can't blame him for keeping a close eye on you, though." Caleb looked her up and down, "I would, too, if my sister looked like you."

Silus began to rise from his chair, "Excuse me?"

Hazel snagged his arm, "It's okay, he's just being an idiot," she said just loudly enough for the others to hear. Silus relented and retook his seat while Caleb's smirk widened.

Hazel retorted sharply, "That's an odd thing to say. But then again, we've all heard the whispers about District Two. At least in Seven, our family trees don't resemble circles."

Caleb's hands tensed as a flicker of amusement crossed Snow's face, his eyes flitting between the two with a blend of entertainment and faint concern.

Hazel continued, "As for my whereabouts that evening, I returned late due to receiving medical attention after saving the Senator's life." She shot a glance at Snow, who raised his eyebrows. "I only went downstairs for a quick bite to eat. You, of all people, should know that I didn't stay long—after all, we shared a midnight snack, didn't we?"

Caleb's expression darkened, his eyes glinting. "Ah, yes, I remember. My appetite was particularly... acute." He responded with a suggestive wink.

"Missing your sister that night, Caleb?" Hazel raised an eyebrow.

Caleb's face flushed, and he gripped the table. But before he could utter a word, Augustus Trask placed a large hand on his shoulder and whispered into his ear.

Festus intervened. "Okay, let's all calm down. We've got the arena tomorrow to sort out any disagreements." He exchanged a look with Indira before he sent a pointed look in Hazel's direction.

Caleb muttered, "Can't wait."

"I'm curious, where were the peacekeepers during all this? Seems like quite an oversight." Snow asked, face impassive but eyes sharp.

Caleb shrugged, "Perhaps it was a shift change. But one of them did end up getting quite a beating later that night. Maybe he was involved in the escape plan."

Augustus interjected, "If a peacekeeper was complicit, then he deserves to be an Avox, at the very least."

His comment sent a chill through Hazel, and she tried to suppress the wave of guilt and worry that washed over her. "Anyone aiding those deceitful tributes deserves far worse than just a beating."

Hazel grabbed her glass and tried to drown her thoughts in ice water. She could almost hear the sound of the baton. She didn't even want to think about all Leo was subjected to because of her.

Snow's voice, smooth and unexpected, jolted Hazel from her thoughts, "Do you not drink alcohol, Miss Marlowe?"

Hazel nearly choked on the frozen liquid, "Not if I can help it, Senator." The smell of her father's home filtered into her mind.

"Why is that?" Snow asked as he took a slow bite.

Hazel hesitated, her eyes briefly resting on his plate where a large portion of cabbage lay untouched. "An alcoholic father tends to discourage the habit."

He nodded, his expression contemplative. "Interesting."

"Do you not eat cabbage, Senator?"

Snow glanced down at his neglected cabbage, then met her eyes, "Not if I can help it."

"Interesting," Hazel echoed. Beside her, Silus coughed as Snow smirked, taking another sip of water.

"That was quite the interview you had today, Hazel," Persephone commented. "Though I wonder if any of it is true."

Festus quickly jumped in, "Hey, why is everyone antagonizing my tributes."

"Though, Coriolanus always did seem to have a thing for district girls." Persephone continued, ignoring Festus.

Snow's expression shifted, eyes narrowing at her.

"Is that so?" Hazel asked before she could stop herself. What are you doing?!

Snow's eyes flashed to her as Persephone let out a sharp laugh. "Well, who could forget Lucy Gray, right?"

"Okay, Perse, that's enough," Festus warned.

But Silus pressed further. "No, tell us more, Ms. Price." The table fell into an awkward silence as Snow and Silus locked eyes.

Persephone hiccupped, "The little songbird stole Coriolanus's heart when he was her mentor. Even followed her back to Twelve for a while. But now she's AWOL."

"I heard she's just on vacation," Hazel replied.

Snow's gaze, icy and intense, locked onto Hazel's once more. The look in his eyes was unreadable, compelling, yet disconcerting. Hazel, squirmed and forced herself to look away.

Persephone sucked down another long sip of her wine, "Maybe if they're offering guided tours at the bottom of the lake in Twelve." Her comment drew a few uncomfortable chuckles around the table.

Hazel felt a bitter cold realization settle in her stomach. She had suspected as much about Lucy Gray's fate, but hearing Persephone vocalize it unnerved her. She stole a glance at Snow. His face was a mask that revealed nothing, yet Hazel sensed a dark undercurrent beneath his calm exterior. The conversation had veered into dangerous territory.

"That's bold talk coming from you. Figures this meal isn't quite to your taste. That's why you're sticking to wine, huh, Perse?" Snow replied, leaning back in his chair.

Persephone's laugh was a short, sharp burst, another sip of wine quickly following. Hazel had heard the unsettling rumors about the Prices, and a wave of nausea washed over her. She placed her fork down, unable to stomach another bite.

"She does have a point, Senator. After your comments during Flickerman's interviews, I'm concerned about the impact this might have on my tributes. Are they at an unfair disadvantage because of these rumors?"

"I assure you, Augustus, your tributes are not at a disadvantage. As a Gamemaker, I am acutely aware of my responsibilities and the integrity of the Games," Snow smiled, snagging his posca from the table and swirling it in the glass.

Augustus stared at Snow before he scanned Hazel, "Let's hope so, Senator. But really, how can you trust anyone who's District? Especially a tribute – beautiful, yes, but essentially condemned?" His words lingered, heavy with implications, as he scrutinized Hazel, making her increasingly uneasy.

"I understand the skepticism, Augustus, but I think you have lost sight of the larger purpose of the Games. That is what is important above everything and everyone. As for trust, Miss Marlowe's actions in the arena, particularly saving my life, tend to lead me to place my trust in her more than a typical tribute. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? Sometimes, you just have to enjoy the ride, even if it's a short one." Snow glanced at Hazel before continuing, "And as for the remark about district girls, sometimes old habits die hard, don't they, Persephone?"

Persephone coughed on her wine, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her face grew sour, "Well, let's hope she fares better than Lucy Gray. Or at least better than her own uncle." Hazel tensed and sucked in a breath.

The sound of Snow's chair scraping back from the table suddenly echoed through the room. He stood, turning his attention to Hazel once again. "Miss Marlowe, it appears we've both finished our meals. Might I propose a walk?"

Silus stiffened next to her, and she could almost feel his rejection of the idea. But the possibility of escaping the dinner conversation seemed more than preferable. "Alright," she responded, pushing her chair back from the table.

Gently placing her hand on Silus' shoulder, she said, "It will be okay. Please, eat your dinner."

Silus's gaze remained fixed on Snow, his face a mask of neutrality, but Hazel could feel the brewing storm behind his eyes. As she stood up, the weight of the room's gaze felt like a heavy cloak, each pair of eyes a silent judge.

As she stepped away from the table, following Snow, Hazel felt as though she was walking into uncharted territory. Snow led her through the Pantheon, wading through hushed conversations and stares of the cameras.

She followed him to massive French doors that led out to the gardens of the surrounding grounds. As Hazel stepped outside, she was immediately struck by the coolness of the evening air. The garden had complicated-looking trimmed hedges, vibrant flower beds in full bloom, and marble sculptures that reflected the moonlight.

Snow led the way with his characteristic perfect posture, his tall frame moving easily among the pathways.

Arriving at a large pool, the surface of the water danced with reflections of the garden lights. Petite goldfish glided below, their movements fluid and carefree. Their existence was so simple and so different than the monstrous creations in Gaul's lab.

"What are we doing out here?" She questioned.

He took a deep breath, glancing at her, "It looked like you could use some fresh air back there. And, well, Persephone can be a bit much when she's had too much to drink."

Hazel continued to stare at the pond before her. "If anything, conversing with a drunk person is the most normal thing I've done today."

Snow let out a soft laugh, "It has been quite the eventful night."

"Eventful," Hazel exhaled, maintaining a comfortable distance, "That is definitely one way to describe it."

Snow hummed, studying her. "It is interesting, isn't it? How rumors in the Capitol can grow and take on a life of their own."

"Without any help from you, I'm sure." He tilted his head and smiled but said nothing. Hazel scrunched her brows together, "What I find interesting is why people care so much."

"It is a different world here in the Capitol. People thrive off these sorts of dramas and stories. Perception is everything here."

"More important than reality?" She scoffed.

"At times. But often, what makes a good rumor is just enough reality to make it satisfying."

"Satisfying?" She couldn't help but notice the faint hint of amusement in Snow's eyes. "Is there really any satisfaction in the Hunger Games?"

"There can be, for the victor," Snow replied, his voice carrying a hint of something undefinable.

Hazel's expression hardened, "Not in my case. Victor or not, I lose either way." For a moment, they simply looked at each other, a soft wind playing with the ends of his blond hair. Hazel noticed a small curl forming at the tip.

"Why, then, did you choose to play along?"

Hazel's reflection rippled in the water as she contemplated her response. "Because this isn't about me. It's about my brother. About ensuring his safety. If playing a role, even a perceived one, can help him, then that's what I'll do." Hazel paused, biting her lip. "It's not that he lacks the strength to be a victor himself. He's more than capable. But I'd do anything to ensure he returns to our family."

Hazel's gaze drifted to her reflection in the pond. She hardly recognized herself – she looked so different, so far removed from the life she knew. Her curled red hair waved gently in the breeze, the luxurious blue skirt of her dress shifting around her. Grief struck her, mourning the future she would never have. Her green eyes, vivid in the moonlight, seemed to echo a familiar sadness. "But as for me, I probably won't be around after tomorrow. I suppose I'll be joining Cedar sooner than I ever imagined."

Snow took a few steps closer, aligning his reflection next to hers in the water. Hazel continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "I've only seen the footage of his death once before today."

"Really? Why is that?"

Hazel cast a sidelong glance at him, "My father forbade me from ever seeing what happened. He said that some things are better left to the imagination, undefined. One night, when I was nine and Silus eight, we snuck into the living room after our parents went to bed. We knew they'd be rerunning old Games footage late into the night." A shadow of pain flickered across her face. "Seeing Cedar's death... it was something I wasn't prepared for. My father had been right; seeing it changed me. It haunts me still." Then, the nightmares began. She closed her eyes as if to shield herself. Despite her efforts, tears began to escape, tracing paths down her cheeks, a few dropping down onto her neck and dress.

Suddenly, the warmth caressed her face. She blanched and pulled away. Her eyes shot open as she recognized the sensation of fingers brushing her face. Snow was much closer now, his fingers holding a new handkerchief, its folds absorbing the moisture of her sadness. "Why are you doing this? Why me?"

Snow held her gaze, a thoughtful expression etching his features. His hand lingered before it dropped to his side. "We all play our roles," his voice lowered.

"Like Lucy Gray played a role?" she questioned, looking up at his face.

Snow's gaze lingered on Hazel; his expression grew serious, and he looked away, "This is different. And don't believe everything Persephone says. She is a vile person who feeds off other people's misery, sometimes literally."

Hazel shuddered at that thought. She almost wished maybe she had indulged a couple of sips of posca; maybe it would have kept her from having a stroke out here in the Pantheon's garden.

"How is this any different?" her voice was a mere whisper in the stillness of the night.

"Everything is different. I'm dedicated to redefining the Games. We've gone to the extent of demolishing the old arena to create something unprecedented. It's about new beginnings, a new era," he explained, briefly touching the rose on his chest. "And you did save my life, after all," he said with a chuckle. "Hard to ignore that." He then looked at her intently, his smile fading. "Beyond that," he paused, his eyes finding hers again, "I think our paths crossed for a reason."

Her pulse spiked while doubt gnawed at her, mingling with the nervousness that prickled at the edges of her consciousness. Was this a genuine or another maneuver?

He studied her reaction; his words hung in the air. "Besides, you remind me of someone."

"Please don't say, Lucy Gray."

"No," he responded with a small laugh, "My cousin. She shares your good-hearted nature, a fierce protectiveness for her family, and perhaps more naivety than she'd care to admit."

Hazel questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Is this the same cousin who adores those tiger lily roses?"

His smile widened, seemingly genuine, yet his charming demeanor had been meticulously crafted. It was the very quality that had propelled him to excel in the world of politics. "The very same."

"Are you being honest? Or is this more games?"

Snow leaned closer; his voice was soft yet firm. "A lot will happen in the coming days, but here and now, I'm telling you the truth."

Hazel felt a mix of emotions swirling inside her. Her cheeks warmed, yet her doubts lingered like morning fog. "I'm not entirely convinced," her gaze flitting away before bravely meeting his again.

"Then I guess I have my work cut out for me."

"You're going to have to work fast, Senator." She tapped her chest, "Condemned, remember?"

His eyes crinkled as he smirked, and she extended his handkerchief towards him. "Thank you for this, by the way."

"Keep it," he insisted.

She shook her head, "Oh no, I've learned my lesson about contraband." He frowned, stepped closer, and gently took the silk fabric from her. Snow's grasp was soft as he pocketed the handkerchief, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. His eyes then shifted, focusing intently on her neck. Hazel frowned at the shift in his expression. He reached forward, his finger brushing the collar of her top.

She took a step back, "Senator?"

"Where did that come from?" His voice was low, and she immediately knew what he was referring to.

"It's nothing," Hazel said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Snow looked into her eyes, his voice firm, "Tell me."

Hazel's eyes darted away, unable to hold his piercing attention.

In a softer tone, he implored, "What happened?" She met his intense blue gaze reluctantly, like confronting a calm yet powerful sea.

Hazel hesitated, then finally admitted, "Commander Drayton," her voice faltered, "Punishment for possessing contraband."

"He punished you for the items I gave you?"

"In a way, those pills were used in an attempt to sedate the nightshift of peacekeepers the night of the escape attempt," she explained. She hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether to reveal that Caleb had stolen the pills. "I may or may not have been the victim of theft."

"While you were getting a late-night snack?" he questioned, his tone light yet probing.

"Something like that," she replied. "The commander was merely trying to extract information. Leo...Private Drayton took the brunt of the punishment for Silus and me," she continued, her voice a shade softer. An idea sparked in her mind. "Can you tell me if he's alright?"

Snow hesitated, his expression guarded. "I cannot really discuss Private Drayton."

"We don't have to discuss him. Can you at least tell me if he's alive?" Hazel pressed, her eyes searching his for any hint of reassurance.

"Leonidas is indeed... alive." His deliberate pause and the gravity in his voice left Hazel doubting whether being alive was truly the better option.

"I really should go," she swallowed.

"Yes, you need to rest," Snow replied in a hushed tone.

Hazel cast one more wistful glance at the serene fish gliding through the pond, envious of their obliviousness. With a sigh, she began to step away, leaving behind the tranquility of the pond and the presence of Snow. "Goodnight, Senator."

Snow watched her retreat, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he straightened his posture, his gaze lingering on the moonlit water. "Oh, Hazel, a word of advice before you go?"

Snow's blonde hair caught the shimmering moonlight, and his hands casually tucked into his pockets. "No matter what you might think," his eyes locked onto hers, "The greatest pain often comes from those closest to us." Hazel's brows knitted together, "It's the things we love most that destroy us," he added, his gaze holding hers.

The moonlight bathed his face in a ghostly pallor, creating deep shadows that played across half of his features. His eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness. The moment stretched; time seemingly suspended as they stood there. Hazel's heart raced as she contemplated his warning, a sense of foreboding settling over her. She took a step back, her gaze still locked with his, before finally breaking away. She turned, her footsteps echoing softly as she retreated into the building, leaving the moonlit garden and its haunting atmosphere behind.

Silus's concern was evident when she returned alone, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress. "Nothing happened. Just a conversation."

He seemed to accept this answer reluctantly.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of celebration and inebriation. The sponsors and guests were jubilant, their laughter and chatter filling the air as glasses clinked in endless toasts. Festus, beaming with pride, led a toast to Hazel and Silus, proclaiming their record-breaking achievement in fundraising for their district.

As the night wore on, the guests became increasingly sloshed, their movements uncoordinated, their speech slurred. The festivities reached a crescendo, a blur of faces and voices that Hazel struggled to keep track of. Snow did not return to join them. When the time came to depart, the tributes were herded onto the bus; the ride back to the manor was a quiet one.

As the bus came to a stop at the manor, the reality of their situation became more pressing. The Hunger Games were mere hours away, and the air was thick with anxiety. As the peacekeepers began to direct the tributes off the bus, Silus's warm chocolate eyes found hers one last time before he was hauled off the bus toward the manor's entrance.

She watched Silus being escorted into the manor, up the stairs, and disappearing from her sight. A sense of isolation washed over her as she was pushed into her room, the handcuffs reclasped around her wrists. She was simultaneously drained and on edge.

In the solitude of her room, the darkness of the space was gently fractured by the moonlight streaming through the window. She paused, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Something caught her eye. There, on her mattress, the moonlight revealed an object that was out of place against the sheets.

As her vision cleared, the shape solidified into a delicate white rose. Beside it lay a small card, elegantly simple. She picked up the rose, its petals cool and soft to the touch, and the aroma filled her senses as she turned her attention to the card. The message was scrawled across it in a graceful, flowing script: "The odds are in your favor. Until we meet again. -CS"