𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

SEVEN

And I doubt he would bet on me missing one, either.

"So, when the two of you get down to the training room tomorrow, start scouting out the members of your pack." Says Sidonia, spearing another piece of pie with her fork. "There's not a chance in hell of you coming across as a weakling, Cato, so show them what you're made of."

When Hadley nods in amused agreement, Sidonia turns to me. " We could try to play that angle with you but no doubt you'd fuck it up within a millisecond of getting your hands on a knife. Again, let the rest of the players know exactly what they're up against."

She's right, of course. As much as it's a strategy proven to work – a girl from District 7 pulled it off spectacularly a couple of years back, playing the damsel in distress right up until the moment she acquired an axe – such a test of my self-control would likely backfire. 

And when it comes down to it, what girl with no talents for the arena would whip up a battle cry like I did tonight at the ceremony.

The majority of us are exhausted after the busy evening, so Hadley, Brutus, Tallulah, and I head to our rooms whilst Sidonia disappears into the elevator to join the other mentors and former victors who are visiting the Capitol, for more wine downstairs. I am wondering whether the woman is planning on giving herself alcohol poisoning before the week is out as I make my way down the corridor to bed.

The room they've prepared for me is lushly decorated, like the one on the tribute train, but the furniture is sleek grey and the walls dusty violet. I strip down to my underwear and pull out a mismatched pair of silky pyjamas before I slide under the covers. The duvet is thick and warm, and I fall asleep almost instantly.

When I dream, I dream of the pictures from history class. Cato Hadley and I in our parade costumes with our weapons raised, the stands cheering us on as the blood of our adversaries colours the sands red.

° ° ° ° °

I wake to Sidonia rapping loudly on my bedroom door and obviously shrieking through the gaps in the hinges. "Rise and shine, Clove! Let's not be let for training!"

I slide out of bed, still half asleep and rubbing my eyes as my feet carry me to the en suite bathroom. There are so many buttons on the shower its takes me at least ten minutes to set it to a decent temperature, but the refreshing flow of the water on my skin helps to wake me up. I stand idle beneath the spray for longer than necessary, experimenting with the multiple soap settings until the bathroom is hazy with steam. I step out of the cubicle and into the path of a dozen tiny jets which dry me head to toe. Even my usually wild hair has been tamed, straight and soft against my skin.

It seems one of the Avoxes has laid out a training uniform for me whilst I was in the bathroom. A simple black polo shirt, trimmed in scarlet with a large number 2 emblazoned across the black, is folded on the bed, along with a pair of tight black pants and lightweight boots. They are nothing like the soft leather ones that have taken me to and from the Academy every day since I was a kid, not moulded to every curve of my feet, but they will have to do.

I dress quickly and pull my hair into a ponytail before heading out to breakfast. By some miracle, Sidonia looks perfectly well, no trace of the hangover I expected would be fuzzing her brain this morning. In fact, she is probably more awake than the rest of us and dressed in a similar sleek pantsuit to the one she wore at the Reaping back in 2. All black, as per usual.

Her unexpectedly chipper mood seems to have put a dampener on the breakfasting crowd, who are chomping at plates of bacon and eggs and toast with bright orange preserves, barely exchanging a word with each other. Only Tallulah appears pleased by her demeanour.