𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

SIX

"Yes, you will fit my design perfectly." She exclaims. "I did wonder whether it'd be the right style for you as well as your District partner, but I don't think we'll have any problems."

I cross my fingers behind my back in the hope that it's not a Peacekeeper uniform.

I sit with Sabetha for the remaining hours until the opening ceremony, eating more beautifully presented Capitol food which my stylist orders by speaking to a hole in the wall. We dine on platters of dainty sandwiches and I drink my fill of more exuberantly flavoured coffee whilst Sabetha drains at least three glasses of sparkling purple wine. Then she runs me through the opening ceremony and what will happen this evening.

Tonight, the Capitol will get their first real look at the tributes of each District. The event will set the ball rolling for the gamblers and sponsors to start speaking to mentors, choosing which tributes they will back when we are all inside the arena.

Once I rule out the chance of Hadley and I being dressed as Peacekeepers for our chariot ride around the city ('don't be silly, my dear, I've never liked those awful uniforms') I allow myself to relax and eat my fill, hoping that Sabetha's talents don't lie exclusively in trying to one-up Tallulah Frost as the Capitol's ice queen.

We have to look the best tonight – Sidonia's fears of competition for sponsors from the District 12 girl have burrowed their way into my head, and I can't help but feel cheated by her bravery. This is supposed to be my year.

No, this is our year.

I can no longer ignore Hadley and his imminent presence beside me for the next week in the Capitol, and until there is no other way forward but for one of us to die, we are a team. I can only hope that somebody else will be the one to take him out in the end, because after last night I'm not sure whether I could manage it myself. And I don't want to have to think about it until he becomes a threat.

Instead push all thoughts of my District partner from my head and wait for Sabetha to signal time to start getting ready.

A few hours later, I am staring at myself in a mirror, unable to muster a single word at the sight of my costume. Sabetha wasn't lying about steering clear of Peacekeepers, but I suspected something similar to the usual oversized metallic or sand-coloured suits us tributes from 2 are usually decked out in. This year, our outfits are refined and elegant, but still pack the punch Panem has come to expect from my District over the years.

I am dressed in a glittering gold breastplate, embellished with layer after layer of feathers, and sleeveless to show off the metallic swirls Sabetha has painted up and down my arms. The top merges into a matching skirt, split into sections of alternating gold and silver, each capped off into sharp points which settle just above my knees. A pair of copper coloured heels and a gold helmet sprouting ivory wings from the temples finishes up the look. Sabetha has braided my dark hair into two tight fishtail plaits which settle on my chest, and combined with dramatic highlights and dark eye makeup, I look ready to kill.

I thank my stylist for her incredible job with our costumes and follow her to meet with her sister Tatiana, who has spent the day prepping Hadley. I am lost in my thoughts, my mind questioning whether Tatiana has spent the whole day simply sitting around as it's fairly unlikely that Hadley took much fixing in the first place, when Sabetha and I round the corner.

And my gaze is met with one of the gladiators from Mr Goldstein's pictures.

He is straight from the pages of a history book, and all of a sudden that strange vision I had in the Justice Building after my father's comment – of Hadley's aureate blood causing him to shine from the inside out – is no longer just a figment of my imagination. Our outfits are practically the same, but I must look like a mere child next to him. His similar sleeveless garment exposes the corded muscle resulting from years' worth of hard training – he does not need the sparkly tattoos which now suddenly seem almost tacky, winding their way up my biceps – and dressed entirely in gold, he could be a statue.