The Tigers Come at Night, Chapter 2
Rating: E
Summary: Forced into prostitution in the Capitol, Katniss and Peeta find a way to seek refuge in the only people who understand: each other. But when they begin to sleep together for comfort in the supposed safety of their own homes, an unplanned occurrence makes the third Quarter Quell more difficult than it already is.
Warnings: Forced prostitution, non-con sexual situations.
A canon-divergent Catching Fire AU.
AO3 - FFN
It's a quiet car ride back to the train. Peeta and I haven't spoken a word to each other since we left the bedroom. Even Effie seems strangely subdued, which, now that I think back on it, makes me wonder if she knew more about our fate than she originally let on. Usually she knows everything about our agenda, but would she have known about this? Would Snow have wanted her to know?
We're back on the train no later than two in the morning. Only an hour past the time we were originally scheduled to depart. I'm happy to be back aboard, I guess, but right now the only thing I want is to take a shower, then crawl under the blankets in my bed and blackout forever. Which, knowing the way my nightmares hit, isn't very likely to happen.
Haymitch is already on board. As we walk past the dining cart, where he sits nursing a drink in one hand and holding his head in the other, Peeta and I both glance in and catch his eye. The look he gives us is a dead one, like he knows what's happened. Anger boils up in me at the thought. It's one thing for Effie to know, but Haymitch? I ball my fists, but just trudge past and head straight to my bedroom, where I immediately close and lock the door behind me. All I want to think about right now is that shower. I strip the clothes off me, kicking them into a corner, and step into the shower, punching random buttons until icy cold water blasts at me. I quickly find the setting for warm, then stand under the stream for so long, I lose track of the time. At some point, I realize the stench of the Capitol, of the man, of the sex are all still emitting from me, as if seeping from the pores of my skin itself. I find the setting for soap and dial it in as well, then program in a rinse setting. I repeat it several times before I get out.
After I’m dried, I find the pajamas that cover the most skin, and pull them on. Then I crawl under the sheets, wrapping them so tightly around me, it’s as though I’ve built myself into a cocoon. For some time I just stare into the darkness, my mind racing and yet unable to feel a single thing. And it’s not that I don’t try. I search inside of me for some sort of reaction to register: anger, hurt, sadness. But all I feel is numbness. Finally, I slip into a restless sleep. Though my nightmares that night are worse than they've been the whole trip--which is really saying something--Peeta doesn't come tonight.
Which is okay with me.
Even so, the night is long and fitful. I have a dream about Rue. That no matter what I do, nothing could ever avenge her death. I wake screaming, clinging desperately to the pillow in a cold sweat. Peeta still doesn't come.
We pull into the District 12 station close to evening the next day. Not much seems to have changed about 12 in the near month we've been gone, except for some colorful decorations set up for the Harvest Festival. They aren't normally up. I guess since 12 is home to not one but two new victors of the Hunger Games, that means we get to have such luxuries. Lucky us.
The night's festivities are being held at Mayor Undersee’s house. Despite being beyond exhausted, I'll be prepped for another night of fabulous entertainment. There's no telling what Cinna is going to put me in this time, though I privately hope for something a lot more simple. I'm glad the dinner is being held at the Undersees’ house, though, and not the old Justice Building where my father's memorial was held, where they took me to say my goodbyes after the reaping. I've had enough sadness for one trip.
We won't see our families until tonight. They're not even allowed to greet us at the train station, since that's mainly for more photos to be taken of the victor's party. One nice thing, though, is that since the dinner will be held at the Undersees’, Madge will be there, too. Since she came to say goodbye to me after the reaping, Madge and I have officially become friends. I've even spent some of the new spare time I have with her, since Gale is working in the mines and Prim has been in school. And Peeta only started talking to me again after we set off on the Victory Tour. I like Madge. Maybe seeing her will be something of a relief of the horrors I witnessed while away on the tour.
Once I arrive at the home, I head up the stairs and look for Madge’s room, walking past several guest bedrooms and her father's study. I stick my head into the mayor's office to say hello, but he's not there. A television is droning on, though, with images from last night's party flashing on the screen. Shots of Peeta and me, dancing, eating, kissing. It's the last thing in the world I want to see right now. In fact, just the memory of what happened last night makes me want to vomit. I'm just about to duck out of there again, when a beeping catches my attention. The television screen goes black, and the words "UPDATE ON DISTRICT 8" start playing. I should probably leave now, but I can't drag myself away. If anything, I move closer to the television.
A woman I don't recognize comes on screen, and reports that conditions in 8 are worsening, and a Level 3 alert has been issued. District 8 still looks like it did when I was there only a few short days ago, with banners of mine and Peeta's faces waving from the rooftops. But the square is now full of screaming, angry people with homemade masks throwing bricks while buildings burn around them. Peacekeepers shoot into the mob. Angry citizens push back.
This must be what President Snow calls an uprising.
I duck out of the mayor's study immediately, and in the nick of time, since he's coming up the stairs just as I do. Trying to mask my shock, I give him a small wave. "Looking for Madge?" he asks me.
"I wanted to show her my new dress," I tell him.
"Well, you know where to find her," he gives me a smile. A new wave of beeping suddenly comes from his office, and his face turns grey. "Excuse me," he tells me.
Madge is in her bedroom down the hall. “Look at you,” she says as soon as she sees me. “Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol.”
An angry jolt runs through me at the reminder of the Capitol. It was bad enough when it was just the place you went to die. Now it’s also the place where my last remaining shred of dignity was stolen from me as well.
“Are you okay?” Madge is studying me hard. Perhaps she can tell from the look on my face that something has happened.
“Yeah,” I wave her off, not looking into her eyes. I need something to do with my hands to keep them from shaking; I absently begin fingering my mockingjay pin. “Even my pin,” I say. “Mockingjays are all the rage in the Capitol now. Are you sure you don’t want it back?”
“Don’t be silly,” she says as she ties her hair back with a gold ribbon. “It was a gift.”
“Where did you get it anyway?” I ask, even though my mind isn’t really on mockingjay pins at all. But it’s a light enough topic that prevents me from having to think too hard about anything else, so I go with it.
“It was my aunt’s,” she says. “But I think it’s been in the family for a long time.”
“It’s a funny choice, a mockingjay,” I say. “I mean, because of what happened in the rebellion. With the jabberjays backfiring on the Capitol and all.
Madge gets an uneasy expression as her eyes dart around the room. “But mockingjays were never a weapon,” she says. “They’re just songbirds, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say. But it’s not true. A mockingbird is just a songbird. A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist. They hadn’t counted on the highly controlled jabberjay having the brains to adapt to the wild, to pass on its genetic code, to thrive in a new form. They hadn’t anticipated its will to live.
Having finished tying the bow in her hair, Madge rises from her seat and gives me a warm smile. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs,” she says. “Your guests are all waiting for you.” She reaches out to wrap her arm through mine. Immediately, I start to recoil; not because of her, but because I don’t want to be touched at all. The action doesn’t go unnoticed. For a brief moment, Madge looks genuinely hurt, but she recovers with polished grace. She doesn’t try to reach for me again, and instead leads the way out of the room. I follow her downstairs.
As soon as we reach the foot of the stairs, Effie swoops in on me. “Where have you been?” she shrieks, frantically pulling on me, leading me off to a room on the side. “You’re scheduled to make your entrance in ten minutes!”
Inside, Peeta is already waiting. His prep team circles around him, making last minute touch ups to his appearance. He glances at me when I come in, but darts his eyes away the second they meet mine and won’t look at me again. Which is fine by me, really. Because I don’t think I could hold his gaze right now even if I wanted to.
As soon as I’m two feet inside the room, my own prep team begins doing the same thing to me, picking at things and adjusting as they see fit. Cinna slips in behind Effie, and holds his chin in his hand as he looks me over. The prep team stops its work, and steps back to let him examine me. Cinna adjusts one or two things about my outfit, then gives one last check over. This is when he catches my eye, and immediately I know he can tell something is wrong. He raises his eyebrows. It’s a question. What’s wrong?
I give a slight shrug, then avert my eyes. Fortunately, this is when Effie tells us we’re supposed to make our grand entrance. Peeta and I make our way to the door, standing side by side but not touching, not even our shoulders. I do see him give a quick glance at me along with a frown, but other than that, he doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. Haymitch gives us the usual tips on how to appear to the crowd. He pauses and takes a deep breath before he reminds us to link arms. Then he turns and refuses to face us again.
We go out in the same waves as we did for all the dinner entrances. The prep teams, Effie, the stylists, Haymitch. We can hear the applause just on the other side of the door as everyone makes their grand entrance. In a few moments, Peeta and I will face the biggest ruckus of all. I just hope we can somehow keep up the act.
Just as we’re about to go out, Peeta holds his arm out for mine. I’m reluctant to take it, but I do. This is the first time we’ve touched since… since he was inside me the other night. My stomach lurches at the thought. Not because of Peeta, but because of the whole situation. He has to feel the same way, because he hasn’t looked me in the eyes since it happened. Still, when I slink my arm through his, I feel the same steadiness I always do. Once more, I’m reminded that I’m not alone.
“That’s our cue,” he mutters, and together we walk out to face the awaiting crowd.
On the other side of the doors are the usual officials found at all these ceremonies. But for once, a welcome sight greets us as well: our families. I quickly pick out my mother and Prim in the crowd, and I immediately make a move for them. Only Haymitch’s hand on my shoulder and a warning shake of his head hold me back. I quickly shrug his hand off, but I remain in place. Our reunion will have to wait for later. Prim grins at me, both relief and guilt coursing through me at once.
Peeta’s family is there, too. They’re dressed in their finest attire, which is noticeably better than my family’s clothes, but still nothing compared to what Peeta, me, and the rest of our ensemble are wearing. His father offers us a sad smile. His mother looks triumphant, but not necessarily proud of her son. I don’t get a very good look at his brothers before we’re gathered together for more pictures.
When at long last we’re done, I make my way straight over to where my mother and sister wait. The first thing I do is gather Prim up in my arms, and hold her so tight, I don’t ever want to let go. But a part of me feels conflicted about even this, like I’m corrupting her by just touching her. But the urge to protect her wins out.
After she lets go, it’s my mother’s turn to take me in her arms. For a long, lingering moment, I sink in to her embrace, fighting the temptation to give in and cry. But I know I can’t do that. So I quickly pull myself together and break loose. She looks hurt, but I quickly look away. I can’t stand to see it right now. Besides, someone else is waiting to greet me, someone who surprises me. Though considering the story the Capitol has concocted about my life, it really shouldn’t. It’s Hazelle Hawthorne, who quickly gives me a hug, but to my relief, keeps it short. As we pull apart, I survey her family behind her. Rory and Vick are stoic, while Posy looks delighted by the glitz and glamour of the whole party. Only one person is missing.
“Gale couldn’t make it. He’s home sick,” Hazelle tells me. “He sends his regards.”
I’m sure he does. And something tells me he isn’t really home sick. But it’s just as well. I’m not sure how I would react to him right now anyway. I need time to sort things out before I can see him.
They announce the start of dinner, and everyone makes their way to the banquet hall. Of course, Peeta and I are to sit together, with our team of stylists and escorts surrounding us. Our own families sit at the opposite end of the table.
Naturally, Peeta and I are the main attraction throughout the meal. Press who have been invited use it as a time to ask all the juicy questions that viewers in the Capitol are dying to know.
“Katniss, you must be excited to try on wedding dresses. Tell us, will Cinna have a hand in creating your dress?”
“Oh-- yes,” I answer.
“Your talent is designing clothes. Do you have anything in mind for your dress already? Will you be assisting Cinna in the design of your own dress?”
“No,” I say, poking at my food. “I’m just going to let him surprise me.”
There’s a round of laughter at this question, and agreement that a bride-to-be is busy enough to not want to worry about such things.
“How does it feel to be engaged?” one reporter asks.
I don’t have to look at Peeta to feel the tension this question creates in both of us. But like usual, Peeta covers for us both, and answers with his most winning smile. “It’s all I ever hoped for.”
“I’ll bet.” The man gives us a lecherous smile. “You must be very excited for your wedding night, Peeta.”
All the oxygen seems to get sucked out of the room. That’s how hard that question hits me. Though my head is reeling, I can tell that it has a similar effect on Peeta by the way his lips twitch and how his shoulders briefly slouch. But both are gone in an instant, and Peeta is smiling again. With a bashful glance at me, he tells the reporter, “I really don’t think I could answer that question if I wanted to. I’m sure the Capitol can respect that it’s a private matter.”
There’s some laughter at this, but I nearly choke on my drink. It’s such a blatant challenge to the Capitol, and for a minute I’m genuinely afraid of what Snow will do to him. Then I remember that they’ve already done it, and what else they might do won’t matter, because by that time, hopefully we’ll have escaped off into the safety of the woods, and…
The woods! That’s right. In the nightmare that the last forty-eight hours have been, I had completely forgotten about my plan to disappear and take everyone I care about along with me. If I can hold out for this week, just this last week of the Harvest Festival, then I can find Gale and tell him my plan. He’ll have to agree to help me once he finds out everything.
The thought is enough to get me through the rest of the night, as well as the ensuing days. It isn’t until Effie corners Peeta and me on the last night of the festival that my delusion is shattered.
“We’ll be back again in a few short weeks to pick you up,” she tells us. “No press this time, but your style teams will be here. You must be on your best behavior.”
Peeta and I exchange a wary glance. “For what, Effie?” he asks.
She gives us a thin-lipped smile in return. “You have another engagement in the Capitol,” she explains.
A dead chill races down my spine as the world around me goes numb.
Summary: Forced into prostitution in the Capitol, Katniss and Peeta find a way to seek refuge in the only people who understand: each other. But when they begin to sleep together for comfort in the supposed safety of their own homes, an unplanned occurrence makes the third Quarter Quell more difficult than it already is.
Warnings: Forced prostitution, non-con sexual situations.
A canon-divergent Catching Fire AU.
AO3 - FFN
It's a quiet car ride back to the train. Peeta and I haven't spoken a word to each other since we left the bedroom. Even Effie seems strangely subdued, which, now that I think back on it, makes me wonder if she knew more about our fate than she originally let on. Usually she knows everything about our agenda, but would she have known about this? Would Snow have wanted her to know?
We're back on the train no later than two in the morning. Only an hour past the time we were originally scheduled to depart. I'm happy to be back aboard, I guess, but right now the only thing I want is to take a shower, then crawl under the blankets in my bed and blackout forever. Which, knowing the way my nightmares hit, isn't very likely to happen.
Haymitch is already on board. As we walk past the dining cart, where he sits nursing a drink in one hand and holding his head in the other, Peeta and I both glance in and catch his eye. The look he gives us is a dead one, like he knows what's happened. Anger boils up in me at the thought. It's one thing for Effie to know, but Haymitch? I ball my fists, but just trudge past and head straight to my bedroom, where I immediately close and lock the door behind me. All I want to think about right now is that shower. I strip the clothes off me, kicking them into a corner, and step into the shower, punching random buttons until icy cold water blasts at me. I quickly find the setting for warm, then stand under the stream for so long, I lose track of the time. At some point, I realize the stench of the Capitol, of the man, of the sex are all still emitting from me, as if seeping from the pores of my skin itself. I find the setting for soap and dial it in as well, then program in a rinse setting. I repeat it several times before I get out.
After I’m dried, I find the pajamas that cover the most skin, and pull them on. Then I crawl under the sheets, wrapping them so tightly around me, it’s as though I’ve built myself into a cocoon. For some time I just stare into the darkness, my mind racing and yet unable to feel a single thing. And it’s not that I don’t try. I search inside of me for some sort of reaction to register: anger, hurt, sadness. But all I feel is numbness. Finally, I slip into a restless sleep. Though my nightmares that night are worse than they've been the whole trip--which is really saying something--Peeta doesn't come tonight.
Which is okay with me.
Even so, the night is long and fitful. I have a dream about Rue. That no matter what I do, nothing could ever avenge her death. I wake screaming, clinging desperately to the pillow in a cold sweat. Peeta still doesn't come.
We pull into the District 12 station close to evening the next day. Not much seems to have changed about 12 in the near month we've been gone, except for some colorful decorations set up for the Harvest Festival. They aren't normally up. I guess since 12 is home to not one but two new victors of the Hunger Games, that means we get to have such luxuries. Lucky us.
The night's festivities are being held at Mayor Undersee’s house. Despite being beyond exhausted, I'll be prepped for another night of fabulous entertainment. There's no telling what Cinna is going to put me in this time, though I privately hope for something a lot more simple. I'm glad the dinner is being held at the Undersees’ house, though, and not the old Justice Building where my father's memorial was held, where they took me to say my goodbyes after the reaping. I've had enough sadness for one trip.
We won't see our families until tonight. They're not even allowed to greet us at the train station, since that's mainly for more photos to be taken of the victor's party. One nice thing, though, is that since the dinner will be held at the Undersees’, Madge will be there, too. Since she came to say goodbye to me after the reaping, Madge and I have officially become friends. I've even spent some of the new spare time I have with her, since Gale is working in the mines and Prim has been in school. And Peeta only started talking to me again after we set off on the Victory Tour. I like Madge. Maybe seeing her will be something of a relief of the horrors I witnessed while away on the tour.
Once I arrive at the home, I head up the stairs and look for Madge’s room, walking past several guest bedrooms and her father's study. I stick my head into the mayor's office to say hello, but he's not there. A television is droning on, though, with images from last night's party flashing on the screen. Shots of Peeta and me, dancing, eating, kissing. It's the last thing in the world I want to see right now. In fact, just the memory of what happened last night makes me want to vomit. I'm just about to duck out of there again, when a beeping catches my attention. The television screen goes black, and the words "UPDATE ON DISTRICT 8" start playing. I should probably leave now, but I can't drag myself away. If anything, I move closer to the television.
A woman I don't recognize comes on screen, and reports that conditions in 8 are worsening, and a Level 3 alert has been issued. District 8 still looks like it did when I was there only a few short days ago, with banners of mine and Peeta's faces waving from the rooftops. But the square is now full of screaming, angry people with homemade masks throwing bricks while buildings burn around them. Peacekeepers shoot into the mob. Angry citizens push back.
This must be what President Snow calls an uprising.
I duck out of the mayor's study immediately, and in the nick of time, since he's coming up the stairs just as I do. Trying to mask my shock, I give him a small wave. "Looking for Madge?" he asks me.
"I wanted to show her my new dress," I tell him.
"Well, you know where to find her," he gives me a smile. A new wave of beeping suddenly comes from his office, and his face turns grey. "Excuse me," he tells me.
Madge is in her bedroom down the hall. “Look at you,” she says as soon as she sees me. “Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol.”
An angry jolt runs through me at the reminder of the Capitol. It was bad enough when it was just the place you went to die. Now it’s also the place where my last remaining shred of dignity was stolen from me as well.
“Are you okay?” Madge is studying me hard. Perhaps she can tell from the look on my face that something has happened.
“Yeah,” I wave her off, not looking into her eyes. I need something to do with my hands to keep them from shaking; I absently begin fingering my mockingjay pin. “Even my pin,” I say. “Mockingjays are all the rage in the Capitol now. Are you sure you don’t want it back?”
“Don’t be silly,” she says as she ties her hair back with a gold ribbon. “It was a gift.”
“Where did you get it anyway?” I ask, even though my mind isn’t really on mockingjay pins at all. But it’s a light enough topic that prevents me from having to think too hard about anything else, so I go with it.
“It was my aunt’s,” she says. “But I think it’s been in the family for a long time.”
“It’s a funny choice, a mockingjay,” I say. “I mean, because of what happened in the rebellion. With the jabberjays backfiring on the Capitol and all.
Madge gets an uneasy expression as her eyes dart around the room. “But mockingjays were never a weapon,” she says. “They’re just songbirds, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I say. But it’s not true. A mockingbird is just a songbird. A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist. They hadn’t counted on the highly controlled jabberjay having the brains to adapt to the wild, to pass on its genetic code, to thrive in a new form. They hadn’t anticipated its will to live.
Having finished tying the bow in her hair, Madge rises from her seat and gives me a warm smile. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs,” she says. “Your guests are all waiting for you.” She reaches out to wrap her arm through mine. Immediately, I start to recoil; not because of her, but because I don’t want to be touched at all. The action doesn’t go unnoticed. For a brief moment, Madge looks genuinely hurt, but she recovers with polished grace. She doesn’t try to reach for me again, and instead leads the way out of the room. I follow her downstairs.
As soon as we reach the foot of the stairs, Effie swoops in on me. “Where have you been?” she shrieks, frantically pulling on me, leading me off to a room on the side. “You’re scheduled to make your entrance in ten minutes!”
Inside, Peeta is already waiting. His prep team circles around him, making last minute touch ups to his appearance. He glances at me when I come in, but darts his eyes away the second they meet mine and won’t look at me again. Which is fine by me, really. Because I don’t think I could hold his gaze right now even if I wanted to.
As soon as I’m two feet inside the room, my own prep team begins doing the same thing to me, picking at things and adjusting as they see fit. Cinna slips in behind Effie, and holds his chin in his hand as he looks me over. The prep team stops its work, and steps back to let him examine me. Cinna adjusts one or two things about my outfit, then gives one last check over. This is when he catches my eye, and immediately I know he can tell something is wrong. He raises his eyebrows. It’s a question. What’s wrong?
I give a slight shrug, then avert my eyes. Fortunately, this is when Effie tells us we’re supposed to make our grand entrance. Peeta and I make our way to the door, standing side by side but not touching, not even our shoulders. I do see him give a quick glance at me along with a frown, but other than that, he doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. Haymitch gives us the usual tips on how to appear to the crowd. He pauses and takes a deep breath before he reminds us to link arms. Then he turns and refuses to face us again.
We go out in the same waves as we did for all the dinner entrances. The prep teams, Effie, the stylists, Haymitch. We can hear the applause just on the other side of the door as everyone makes their grand entrance. In a few moments, Peeta and I will face the biggest ruckus of all. I just hope we can somehow keep up the act.
Just as we’re about to go out, Peeta holds his arm out for mine. I’m reluctant to take it, but I do. This is the first time we’ve touched since… since he was inside me the other night. My stomach lurches at the thought. Not because of Peeta, but because of the whole situation. He has to feel the same way, because he hasn’t looked me in the eyes since it happened. Still, when I slink my arm through his, I feel the same steadiness I always do. Once more, I’m reminded that I’m not alone.
“That’s our cue,” he mutters, and together we walk out to face the awaiting crowd.
On the other side of the doors are the usual officials found at all these ceremonies. But for once, a welcome sight greets us as well: our families. I quickly pick out my mother and Prim in the crowd, and I immediately make a move for them. Only Haymitch’s hand on my shoulder and a warning shake of his head hold me back. I quickly shrug his hand off, but I remain in place. Our reunion will have to wait for later. Prim grins at me, both relief and guilt coursing through me at once.
Peeta’s family is there, too. They’re dressed in their finest attire, which is noticeably better than my family’s clothes, but still nothing compared to what Peeta, me, and the rest of our ensemble are wearing. His father offers us a sad smile. His mother looks triumphant, but not necessarily proud of her son. I don’t get a very good look at his brothers before we’re gathered together for more pictures.
When at long last we’re done, I make my way straight over to where my mother and sister wait. The first thing I do is gather Prim up in my arms, and hold her so tight, I don’t ever want to let go. But a part of me feels conflicted about even this, like I’m corrupting her by just touching her. But the urge to protect her wins out.
After she lets go, it’s my mother’s turn to take me in her arms. For a long, lingering moment, I sink in to her embrace, fighting the temptation to give in and cry. But I know I can’t do that. So I quickly pull myself together and break loose. She looks hurt, but I quickly look away. I can’t stand to see it right now. Besides, someone else is waiting to greet me, someone who surprises me. Though considering the story the Capitol has concocted about my life, it really shouldn’t. It’s Hazelle Hawthorne, who quickly gives me a hug, but to my relief, keeps it short. As we pull apart, I survey her family behind her. Rory and Vick are stoic, while Posy looks delighted by the glitz and glamour of the whole party. Only one person is missing.
“Gale couldn’t make it. He’s home sick,” Hazelle tells me. “He sends his regards.”
I’m sure he does. And something tells me he isn’t really home sick. But it’s just as well. I’m not sure how I would react to him right now anyway. I need time to sort things out before I can see him.
They announce the start of dinner, and everyone makes their way to the banquet hall. Of course, Peeta and I are to sit together, with our team of stylists and escorts surrounding us. Our own families sit at the opposite end of the table.
Naturally, Peeta and I are the main attraction throughout the meal. Press who have been invited use it as a time to ask all the juicy questions that viewers in the Capitol are dying to know.
“Katniss, you must be excited to try on wedding dresses. Tell us, will Cinna have a hand in creating your dress?”
“Oh-- yes,” I answer.
“Your talent is designing clothes. Do you have anything in mind for your dress already? Will you be assisting Cinna in the design of your own dress?”
“No,” I say, poking at my food. “I’m just going to let him surprise me.”
There’s a round of laughter at this question, and agreement that a bride-to-be is busy enough to not want to worry about such things.
“How does it feel to be engaged?” one reporter asks.
I don’t have to look at Peeta to feel the tension this question creates in both of us. But like usual, Peeta covers for us both, and answers with his most winning smile. “It’s all I ever hoped for.”
“I’ll bet.” The man gives us a lecherous smile. “You must be very excited for your wedding night, Peeta.”
All the oxygen seems to get sucked out of the room. That’s how hard that question hits me. Though my head is reeling, I can tell that it has a similar effect on Peeta by the way his lips twitch and how his shoulders briefly slouch. But both are gone in an instant, and Peeta is smiling again. With a bashful glance at me, he tells the reporter, “I really don’t think I could answer that question if I wanted to. I’m sure the Capitol can respect that it’s a private matter.”
There’s some laughter at this, but I nearly choke on my drink. It’s such a blatant challenge to the Capitol, and for a minute I’m genuinely afraid of what Snow will do to him. Then I remember that they’ve already done it, and what else they might do won’t matter, because by that time, hopefully we’ll have escaped off into the safety of the woods, and…
The woods! That’s right. In the nightmare that the last forty-eight hours have been, I had completely forgotten about my plan to disappear and take everyone I care about along with me. If I can hold out for this week, just this last week of the Harvest Festival, then I can find Gale and tell him my plan. He’ll have to agree to help me once he finds out everything.
The thought is enough to get me through the rest of the night, as well as the ensuing days. It isn’t until Effie corners Peeta and me on the last night of the festival that my delusion is shattered.
“We’ll be back again in a few short weeks to pick you up,” she tells us. “No press this time, but your style teams will be here. You must be on your best behavior.”
Peeta and I exchange a wary glance. “For what, Effie?” he asks.
She gives us a thin-lipped smile in return. “You have another engagement in the Capitol,” she explains.
A dead chill races down my spine as the world around me goes numb.