Inhale

“You must be about the stupidest person in Panem.” The voice was honey, raised so anyone close would be able to hear her speak. “Seriously,” stilettos click loudly against the granite flooring as she drifted towards me. It was hard to force the frown from my face but I managed it just in time, sure I was giving her a pleasant smile as the sleeve of her gown brushed against my side. “I don’t think any of us are feeling too smart Ca-…”

The sugar drops and her pink lips become a snarl as her hand gropes for mine. Her long fingers are decorated in an abundance of glittering rings. “What the fuck where you thinking? She was going to volunteer for you!” Her words aren’t that soft purr now, instead they’re needles in my ear. I’m a little thrown by the quick change, by the anger in her tone. It feels like concern and that daunts me a little more than anything. I’ve always gotten on fairly well with the Victors from District One, the relationship they had seen between myself and Tyger had secured that.

“Mags wouldn’t stand a chance.” I spit, a coward and a liar.

“Would you?” It’s not Cashmere now, instead, Brutus has strolled over, looking as comfortable as could be, his large arms decorated with swirls of gold. I didn’t offer him a reply, and he didn’t expect one – I was well aware how little of a threat Brutus would hold me as. I was very much hoping to prove him wrong. “She’s here isn’t she?” My defender snaps at him, those sapphire blue eyes narrowing as he saunters past and towards Enobaria who shoots us her own golden grin.

“I’m not surprised he’s here.” I allow, he makes me feel a little nauseous.

Cashmere pulls a face and crosses her thin arms. “He’s an utter moron is what he is. You’ve seen the reapings right? He practically leapt over Ayro to volunteer.” Her distaste for him would not stop them allying. Does she understand she's as big a hypocrite as the rest of us?

“Probably has a fairly good chance.” It’s a statement and a true one. District Two is under the thumb of the Capitol. They have the most volunteers and Victors of all the Districts. She scoffs, but I’m losing her interest and her eyes are straying. I watch them stick very firmly on her brother, she’s the eldest. Gloss is two years younger, another Victor and now another tribute. There’s no chance of a double victory this year.

There will either be one Victor, an example, or by some miracle, we will break Katniss out of that damned arena and whatever Finnick’s friend has planned will all work out. I look at Cashmere a little more closely, under the thick layer of make-up she looks exhausted, pale. Could she know something or is it just a fear she’s well adept at hiding? “Gloss is going to win.” I barely hear her, only really aware she’s spoken because I’ve watched her lips move. “I’m sorry – you know what that means and I don’t want to, but I will if it comes to it.”

I open and close my mouth lamely, am I surprised by what she’s said? I’m not even sure, I don’t doubt her conviction, the purpose behind her words. I would do anything to keep my brothers safe. I have done things to keep Thom and the rest of my family safe. Cashmere wouldn't settle for failure like I had. “I understand.” Her name is called and with one last clasp of my hand, she’s gone.

It’s quite loud under the stage, the excited mutter of the crowd with only minutes until they can see their favourite heroes and villains, ready for the slaughter once again. We all know there are certain people that will be getting a much larger share of the yells and cheers.

Katniss and Peeta aren’t down here, or rather, I haven’t seen them yet. People are forming into usual groups, whilst those more out of touch with reality seem to be drifting. Wiress is practically clinging to Beetee, her eyes wide and fearful, one corner of her mouth lifting and dropping rapidly. I suppose I don’t look much better now, standing idly in between two carriages, neither of which Finnick and I will be boarding.

I lost him instantly, as I knew I would. He still very much had a façade to hold up, we’d only agreed yesterday how important that was but even so it stung a little when the usual ‘Capitol expression’ had masked his features the instant the lift doors had revealed us. I couldn’t see him from where I was but he’d be working hard, in his own way. We needed sponsors if we had any chance of achieving such insane aims. Finnick brought in sponsors, but he had to continue to look free, to look as appealing as he always had.

I hated that.

Making myself move I started back towards the carriage bearing the number four, spotting Mags in what looked like a tense conversation with Woof from District Eight. It may have been tense because Woof had had a several major stroke several years ago and could barely speak. He made Mags seem coherent in contrast. Cecelia was with them, her body stretching the light blue fabric a little; clearly, she had put on some weight since her last fitting with their stylist. Of course she had, I scolded myself, she’d had a baby within the last year. I knew that I’d heard something from Finnick.

That made three now, all under five that would grow up without their mother. I had to blink hard several times to ensure the watering of my eyes wasn’t obvious. I could not afford to look weak, not here. Most people probably held a similar view of my capability to Brutus and I was sure they were right but I would not give them evidence. Cecelia would die, I couldn’t even remember how she had won her own games, but it was through no great feat of strength or intelligence otherwise I would know. Cecelia was one of us who just got lucky. It wouldn’t happen again and she wouldn’t have someone like Finnick as an ally. I could suggest it, but I could imagine instantly the look he’d try to hide. He was probably worried he was going to struggle enough to keep me alive, let alone putting anyone else who’d need a lot of help in his hands.

Finnick had to survive this. Regardless of the wider aims, that poisonous thought was always in my mind. Finnick deserved to. I was one with Cashmere in that belief, I’d do what I could to make sure he made it through. My stomach cramps and I was desperate for some water. I steadied myself a little against the closest beam, spots dancing on the edge of my peripheral vision. I was not going to faint, I wasn’t going to allow that.

But this was enormous. It was real, those months of dread were nothing. This was real now, we were in the Capitol, and in seven days we would be in the arena. Seven days to work out what the hell we were doing, what I was doing. To even get some scale of what was going on. This plot went high Finnick had said, but who else here knew? Did Katniss even know? Were there other victors now thinking the same about this impossible task? I bit my tongue hard to stop myself from exclaiming outloud. I’d agreed to die to try. I’d also made my own agreement, my own vow to do what I could for Finnick. That was selfish, selfish and necessary for whatever sanity I had left.

The cold voice that cut through me was almost welcome. It dragged me to the present, made me aware of how my chest was heaving and how soaked my palms were with sweat. I shoved myself upright off the beam, fiddling with my dress to give me a few precious moment to compose myself as much as possible before I dared meet her cruel eyes. “Johanna.” I greeted, taking one last breath before raising my head. “Elenia.” She said, words mocking as ever. “Look at the state of them. Almost makes me glad we’re back in the arena, at least I know we’re not likely to end up some sort of addict like half of them.”

“Only half,” I said slowly, earning a wicked grin.

“Only half.” She agreed, and her eyes darted over me quickly. “Obviously you’re concerned otherwise you and Finnick wouldn’t have been doing whatever you have been.” She stopped me from replying with a roll of the eyes, “That’s illegal you know. Could get you in trouble.”

“More trouble?” I practically shoot the words at her, shocking myself a little. I didn’t talk to Johanna, she threw some filthy look my way whenever she saw me and darted off leaving Finnick to try and lighten the atmosphere. Finnick wasn’t here now and I still felt like I was one step away from a heart attack. She fell silent for a few long seconds, and I was waiting for her to stomp off in her ridiculously high shoes when instead she spoke again, digging a little deeper.

“How far in advance do they know the Quell?”

I could sense where she was going but asked the question she wanted. “I don’t know, why?”

She shrugged a taunt that made my teeth begin to grind. “I just wonder how much Crane knew.” She trailed off, waiting for some reaction. I was adamant I wouldn’t let her have that and struggled to keep my face as still as possible. “What a shame he isn’t here to try and get you out of it.” My throat is thick and I don’t trust my voice, “Don’t worry though, there’s still time for someone to pick you up. Maybe you’ll treat them to a couple of nights before everyone gets slaughtered.” Her thin lips play with a smile.

“Well.” She’s almost left before I can manage to speak, and what I say is despicable. “At least I won’t be stupid enough to say no.” Her whole body tenses, she’s frozen, probably debating exactly how she’s going to break my teeth before some sense of self-control I didn’t know she possessed takes hold. She straightens her back and walks off swiftly. I’m sure I’ve just become number one of her list, although I may have dragged Finnick to a wobbly number two. I wasn’t sure that Johanna was aware I knew that. I wasn’t even sure of the whole story, it was used as a warning. Finnick had told me once, face heavy with regret and on a particularly shaky evening I had spent with Seneca at some ridiculous masquerade at Presidents Snow's mansion it had been said again. The warning far more pointed that time.

If someone desired you, if anyone made it clear to Snow or one of his little associates that they wanted you, and were willing to pay for your ‘company’ you were given a simple choice. You said yes, grinned and bared it or you said no and everyone you cared about was killed.

I don’t know if it was stupidity, naivety or just pure rage that had made Johanna turn down one of richest men in Panem. But she did, and as far as I was aware she lost everyone. I’d just shoved that in her face. No bating deserved that. Several deep breaths made no difference and a loud claxon sounded, five minutes until show time. I want to follow Johanna, I should apologise, more than that, I should grovel. It wouldn’t make any difference and I don’t. I stay very firmly planted where I stand, only letting myself look as the last couple of minutes creep by.

Stylists flutter around touching up their tributes, whilst victors – those brave enough to come back this year as a mentor mingle. Luine will have snagged the best seat possible by this point, she knows well enough that dabbing at me in the last few seconds only ends with the both of us stressing out.

There’s one, in particular, I take note of, Cinna, Katniss’ stylist. The man who made District Twelve interesting exactly a year ago. This means our youngest victors have arrived and this time I do take a few steps, ever nearing the horses ready to pull our carriage. I see Peeta first, quite tall, a little thicker than he was last year, breaching that final step to becoming a man. He’s in all black, a jumpsuit of some kind. No doubt the moment they’re seen by the drooling Capitol citizens they’ll become aflame, stick with their signature. Katniss is harder to see, it takes three groups of people to break up and move on before I catch a glance of her. Pia from District Ten limps slowly towards her carriage, opening up a direct line of sight. It’s not just Katniss I see, of course not.

Finnick’s back is half concealing her, and he’s leaning in close. I can tell even from this distance that her body language is closed off, she looks like she’s clinging to the horse for protection.

I can only imagine what he’s trying and that bubble of jealously rumbles in my gut. He’s stupid to try that way. She won’t fall for it, god knows she comes across as cold enough and her act has never been as good as Peeta’s. She won’t swoon for Finnick’s charms like half the country would.

Myself included.

“What was that with Katniss?” I ask as he appears in front of me. He doesn’t answer straight away, instead gesturing I hold out my hand. I do, palm up, and he drops a sugar cube softly onto my skin. A grin is all the answer I’m offered and I push the sugar past my lips as he tosses another up in the air, easily catching it in his open mouth.

The sugar is sickly but it’s better than the sour taste on my tongue. “What was what?” His words are hidden under the final blare of the bell and he hops onto the carriage, offering me a gentle hand I accept. Bending down he straightens the back of my dress once I’m on board, and my skin fizzles as his fingers trail up my spine. I shrug him off, “Coming on a bit strong with her weren’t you?” I’m staring forward but I can see the dimple digging into his cheek as he smirks at me.

“Jealous?” The reality of his question just makes me more aggravated. He’s expecting some sort of sarcastic comment in reply but he certainly doesn’t get it and instead tosses the sugar cubes onto the ground. His hands meet the low barrier in front of us quickly, and his back bends as he sighs, “Don’t be like that Elle.”

“I’m not…” Biting my tongue stops the lie and again his hand links softly around my wrist, thumb rubbing across my knuckles. “It won’t work. Not that like with her.” I don’t add in how horrible it makes me feel to even consider what he could have been saying.

“Think I figured that out.” He smiles again, a real one this time, more sincere than the shark-like grin he plasters on for an audience. “But we need her on side, or at least willing to give us a go.”

“Peeta will be our way in like we said.” I feel his eyes on me and shrug, “He’s nicer.”

“Well, that’s…” There’s a final blare and the roar of the crowd is instantaneous. It’s our time to go. “How are we doing this?” I ask, fiddling quickly with my hair again, already my hands are starting to quiver.

“Like there’s nowhere else we’d rather be.” His voice is a stark contrast to the positivity of his statement. I scoff.