"That was hardly necessary." Plutarch is holding a handkerchief to his split lip. I'm lucky he didn't notify the soldiers waiting outside, else I might have been shot just for having the nerve to hit him.
"You deserved it." I grumble back, stomping away from him. There isn't anywhere to go though, so I just stomp to the bare bed and sit down on it, crossing my arms and legs, scowling at him from my seat.
"You know," He says, approaching carefully, "You used to be so much more compliant when you were working for me. Never asked any questions. Followed every order. You were the perfect soldier."
"I was the perfect puppet." I spit at him, my scowl is more welcoming than the clap of thunder, but he keeps coming anyway. He halts just a foot in front of me, close enough to reach for me if he wants to. He doesn't.
"Yes." He nods, eyes downcast now. "I did take advantage of that. I did. I'll own up to that, Emerald. I used you. But I used you all. We all needed to sacrifice for the cause."
"Funny how everyone else is dead, I'm locked up, and you're the one that gets to walk free. You never sacrificed a damn thing, Plutarch."
"Just years of my life."
"Everyone else sacrificed their lives!" I holler at him, uncoiling to my feet in an angry burst of movement. "Don't you fucking dare try to preach to me about sacrifice."
"You're right." He heaves a sigh and holds up his hands. He was never scared of my outbursts. I used to think it was because he knew me. Now I know it's because he knew just how to control me.
"You manipulated me." I accuse him. "You manipulated everyone, didn't you? You were pulling my chain, Snow's, Coin's even. Everything that has happened has happened because of you."
"Not everything." He murmurs.
"That's why you've avoided me. Avoided me like the damn plague, because you knew I'd realise that you were behind every fucking scheme."
"Not every scheme!"
"But most of them!" I scream, and move to lunge at him, but I pull myself back at the last moment. He brought those soldiers because he knew it would deter me from hurting him, or killing him, which I am inclined to do. He has always known that I would do anything to survive. If surviving means I don't get to rip out his throat, then I won't.
"Was it really Coin who told Coal to capture Chaim?" I ask. I've suspected for a while.
There was just a moment. Just a moment after Coal had revealed Chaim to me, and he'd been ecstatic, half crazy with joy that he'd been babbling incoherently. My days in this empty bedroom have given me time to review every single second of that final fight. Coal had said, in his delerium, he'd gasped out 'Just like she told me to. Just like she knew you'd want. Very clever, very clever, she is.'
He'd been speaking of Coin. That much is obvious. But would Coin have really thought of that herself? She was so obsessed with power, would she have risked ruining her own image for the sake of bringing me and Coal together, just for us to fight? She could have brought us together in any number of different ways.
But she made sure that I was angry. She made sure that the stakes were high enough that Coal and I would fight over it. That we'd fight and one of us would die. She'd wanted me to die.
But only one other person could have predicated my reaction. Could have predicated that if I found out that Coin had orchestrated Chaim's death, then I'd kill her for it. That I would do it publicly. That I'd sacrifice my life and the lives of everyone I cared about to do it.
Only one person in the world knows me that well.
Plutarch stares at me.
"You told Coal to take Chaim."
He doesn't deny it.
"You told Coin that it would be the only thing that would spur me into a fight that I might not win." My words come in a rush, and I take a heavy seat on the bed. My heart beats so wildly in my chest that it hurts. "Because I've never in my life gone into a fight that I can't win. Because you trained me. Because you trained Coast. Because you taught us that to fight a battle you might lose is ridiculous. You taught us to manipulate and lie and cheat until the odds were in our favour.
"You knew the only way I'd fight Coal was if I was angry enough, but you made sure the order came from Coin, because the only way I'd throw my entire life away to make her suffer, make her pay, is if I was furious enough."
He says nothing. He just stares at me.
"You let that boy die." I accuse. "You may as well have cut his throat yourself."
"Do you want me to apologise?" He demands, glaring now. I've annoyed him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know about Marie. I didn't know that Coin would use her against you. I didn't know that Coal would kill Chaim. I thought you'd save him."
"Don't you fucking dare pin his death on me!" I shout, furious again. I make an effort to calm myself; I don't want those soldiers rushing in, I've still got questions. "Did you tell Coin that my mother was alive?"
"No." He says it quickly enough and firmly enough that I believe him. "I think Snow might have, before he died. He knew that Coin was obsessed with you."
"Fine." I shrug, I can get over that. "Final accusation. Was it you who made sure I was a tribute in the Games?"
Because it was never a coincidence. How could it have been? There are hundreds of Noble children, but I'm one of the 24 tributes? Out of everyone, they pick the former Resistance soldier, the one that Coin was obsessed with? The one that Snow tortured?
Plutarch knew that I'd shake things up. He knew I'd fight. He knew that eventually Coin and I would come to a head. Come to blows. This has panned out exactly as he wanted it to. All because I got picked to participate in the Games.
"You know me better than anyone, or you did." I'm murmuring now. I'm actually afraid of the answer. "It's a stretch, and it was a gamble on your part. But you knew that I wouldn't have let my brother's volunteer. Knew that I'd come to the natural conclusion that I was the only Casteel child who might stand a chance in the Games. You made sure my family's name was picked, and by default you knew I would enter the Games. You couldn't have predicted that I'd end up killing Coin, but you knew I'd be angry. You knew I'd want to rebel. You knew I'd say everything that needed to be said to make the people angry, make them question Coin, question 13."
He's breathing heavy now. I'm staring at him, a little numb.
"And then you saw that I promised to protect Chaim. You saw that Coal wanted me. You saw that Coin hated me. So you moved us all into position. You made sure that I hated Coin enough that I'd kill her, even at the expense of my own life."
We stare at each other for a long time. His eyes are wide. Panicked. He never thought I'd figure it out. Because that's what he doesn't know about me. That's what I always kept from him. Even before he started to train me, even before Coast molded me into the perfect weapon, I was already a liar. Already a manipulator. Underneath my pretty smile there was a wicked, sharp mind.
He saw the pretty, frightened girl who just wanted to get back at everyone who'd hurt her. He never imagined I was more than that. He bought my vacant eyes, my vapid attitude. He was fooled just like everyone else.
"Will you kill me now, too, Emerald?" He asks, quietly. He's not sure. I've killed people for less.
His eyes dart to the door. If he shouts, I'll be on him before the soldiers can get in here to kill me. My strength is restored, my reflexes are honed back to their old sharpness. If he shouts now, I'll snap his neck before the soldiers even kick open the door.
I let him panic, let his fear choke him. I'm smiling softly. His big hands are shaking.
Plutarch, with his big mind and his smugness that he'd come out on top of everyone and everything, came in here thinking that I'd grovel at his feet like the puppet he thought I was. He thought he'd come in here and bestow kindness on his faithful dog.
He never noticed that his dog was a wolf in disguise.
I lunge at him. He gives a strangled gasp and tries to hurtle backwards, but I've already got him by the throat and I'm wrenching him round to jam him up against the wall.
He's sweating, his meaty cheeks wobbling fearfully as I snarl into his face. His whole body is quivering. He's heavy. His chubby body, swollen with all his luxury, is hard to hold up, but my fury alone lends me strength.
"Are you listening?" I ask softly. He nods, his breaths are quick. "If you think you're going to throw me under the bus for Coin's death, you've got another fucking thing coming. If you think I'm spending my life in jail, then you're mistaken. You're going to leave this room. You're going to go back to all your powerful allies. You're going to convince them that I'm innocent. That I did it for the good of Panem. You're going to pardon me."
"They want to launch an investigation," He says quickly, gasping out the words. "They want you to stay in custody until it's proven that your accusations against Coin are right-"
"That's not going to happen!" I give him a shake. "Because right now, I'm the innocent victim. I'm the Capitol's Sweetheart. I fought for our country in the shadows. I was the champion of the people before Katniss Everdeen learned to shoot that fucking bow. Then, I was tortured by Snow. I was thrown into the arena by Coin. I survived, everything, against the odds. Now, I've killed the tyrant. That's the story you're going to spin. The people love me. I've proven that I'm worthy of freedom. So that's what you're going to give me."
"I don't have that much power-"
"Shut up!" I growl, "You're the most powerful person in Panem, and you damn well know it. Right now, nobody knows that you orchestrated the whole thing. You get me out of here, and they never will."
"You won't..." He frowns, "You won't tell everyone?"
"No." I shove myself away from him but don't move far. I invade his space, smiling softly as he cringes away from me. "You get to keep your luxury. You get to keep your position on top. I get my freedom, and we never have to be in proximity to each other again."
"It's going to be difficult. It might take time." He straightens up, inspects me warily.
"I don't care." I snap, "Just get me out of this fucking room. You give me my freedom, and I'll give you my silence. It's a win win."
"Fine." He brushes himself down, adjusts the lapels of his expensive suit. Smooths his pale hair back into it's slick hairstyle. "This is a dangerous game you're playing, Emerald."
"There are worse games to play."
****
It doesn't take him long, which proves exactly the point I was making. He's the most powerful person in the country, so he works his magic and he pulls his strings, and when I wake again, tired after contemplating for hours on end whether Plutarch will just snip off a loose end and kill me, I find new clothes waiting for me.
Not a vest and shorts, but cotton trousers, a long sleeved shirt, and soft soled shoes. I must be going somewhere. All of it is white.
Still, I take my time. I eat and shower, brush my hair as best I can, pinch my cheeks to flush colour into them, then I dress. It all fits perfectly.
I sit on the bed and wait for the people on the other side of the security camera to notice that I'm ready to leave. They'll send soldiers, probably, and I'll be taken to a meeting room to be passed off to other people. Maybe Marie will be there. Maybe it'll be Silver. I'm not sure at all.
Do I even have a home to go back to? I'm not entirely sure of where I'm going to stay. Will my mother welcome me, after all I said about her in the Games? She must have been watching, must have been furious. Of course, she's not my mother, never was, so there's no need for her to welcome me back into her home, full of all her precious sons.
Silver will offer me a home, that much I'm sure of. Though there isn't much room in her home anyway; She's got a big family, and I don't want to impose. Maybe Astrid will be willing to take me in, just for a while until I can set something else up. Maybe I'll buy an apartment.
I realise suddenly that there is a future out there for me.
I don't know what I'll do with it. I'll have to live with an adult at least until I'm 18, and then I can claim the inheritance my father left me - that's only if Coin didn't seize it when she took power - and with that money I can do anything. Move to another District, or carve out a life here in the Capitol. I don't know exactly what kind of life yet, but I'll do something.
Learn a trade. Earn a living. I can do anything.
The knowledge makes me breathless, the possibilities make my head spin. It's been a long time since I've had the freedom to make my own decisions, to imagine that I could decide my own future, my own fate.
It's funny; I've been waiting so long and fighting so hard for a chance of freedom, and I'm scared now that I have it.
The door clicks open and I pop to my feet, surprised. It swings open and I move towards it cautiously, breathing heavy. What if Plutarch has sent soldiers to kill me? What if they've decided I'm to be executed? What if everything is taken away at the very last moment?
"Emerald?" A voice drifts in, and a moment later a face appears in the gap between the door and the frame. I know that face, spoken to it briefly before. He is the guard that spoke to me just after I was Reaped, who told me I was brave for volunteering. He's tall and dark haired, his skin a lovely shade of olive with an undertone of bronze. He's handsome.
"Gale, isn't it?" I frown.
"Exactly." He nods, surprised that I remember. "I'm to escort you."
I take a breath and nod, and finally I step out of the vacant room. The corridor beyond is not much better, blank, white, smooth. Not a blemish anywhere. This must be one wing of the Mansion, maybe for keeping guests who aren't very important.
Gale starts walking beside me, so I follow. He isn't armed, I notice.
"I recognise you." I tell him, inspecting him out of the corner of my eye.
"I'm Katniss's friend." He offers, and that jolts my memory enough that I remember him being shown in the interviews during the 74th Games.
"Her cousin, right?"
"Not exactly." He laughs. "They were just irritated that she had a male best friend when they were trying to spin the romance with Peeta."
"Ah." I shrug, not really too interested. "Had?"
"Excuse me?"
"Had a male best friend? You two...?" I flick my eyebrows up.
He swallows awkwardly, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets. It makes his big frame smaller. "There were complications."
"There always is." I scoff.
We walk the rest of the way in silence.
He takes a lot of twist and turns, so many that I don't bother to keep track. I've never been in this part of the Mansion, and seeing as I never plan to set foot in the Mansion again after today, it doesn't much matter to me anyway.
Finally, we pass through a door and enter a part of the Mansion I recognise. One of the main corridors, grand, decorated richly, with towering ceilings and wide corridors. Oak doors lining the halls. I know this section. Gale seems to know it better, and leads me without fumbling.
Eventually, we stop in front of a set of double doors. They're rich wood and large, carved beautifully. This seems to be the end of my journey.
"I just want to say, Emerald," Gale stops me with a hand on my forearm. "I'm glad it's all worked out. You deserve a happy outcome."
"Thank you, Gale." I give him a smile, but after a moment I can't wait any longer. I grasp the handle of the door and shove it open, pushing my way into the room beyond.
My knees almost buckle under me.
Silver is sat on a chaise lounge, relaxed, whole, looking healthy and happy as she converses easily with the couple opposite, huddled together on a love seat. Marie and Thatcher seem to be saving room for a third party to join them, they're sat so close on the chair.
Astrid is stood by the tall bay window, arms crossed and impatient, the colours of her outfit brilliant and her hair dyed brightly again. There are no dark circles under her eyes.
Alden is sat nearby, looking removed but sipping on a cup of tea, looking prim and neat in a suit.
They all look up at the slam of the door swinging shut behind me. At once, the room goes silent. Everyone pauses.
I can't move, nor can I speak. I don't know what there is to say to a group of people after they watch you murder someone in front of their eyes. Murder a lot of people in front of their eyes.
My eyes sweep the space again, and I wonder where Peeta is. Wonder why he isn't here. Maybe he's already returned to District 12. The thought makes me sag.
But then Silver lets loose a shriek, and she's up and out of her chair and she's volting across the room and she has me up in her arms, dragging me up against her chest so hard and so forcefully she lifts me clean off the ground. She's sobbing into my neck and I can't even comfort her because she's pinned my arms to my sides, so I just have to dangle helplessly while she cries.
Astrid has me next, and I press my face into her chest and breathe her in, and she cries into my hair and murmurs words into my ear, telling me how brave I am and how proud she is of me. Funny, after being absent a proper mother for the majority of my life, it's just typical that two come along at once.
Speaking of which, Marie ushers me into her arms. She holds me lightly, holds me like I might disappear into a puff of silver smoke if she squeezes too harshly. Marie doesn't cry. I don't think she ever doubted that I'd manage to get back to her. It didn't even enter her mind that I might fail, that she would lose me again. Thatcher simply smiles when I step back from Marie, unsure of his position when it comes to me but certain that his place is by Marie's side. I'm glad they have each other.
When I spin, looking for my big brother, I find him shuffling awkwardly on the outside, looking between Thatcher and Marie, clinging to each other, and Astrid and Silver doing exactly the same.
"I didn't know-" He murmurs, glancing away, "If you don't want me here-"
"Shut up." I curse him, releasing a shuddering breath before I fall into his arms. His gasp of shock and relief is loud in my ear, but it's such a welcome sound as he hoists me up into his arms and clings to me, and I wrap my arms around his neck and hold onto him for dear life. "You're my big brother." I tell him, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"You have lots of big brothers." He reminds me.
I huff a laugh, "You're my favourite though."
"Well, you're my favourite little sister."
"I'm your only little sister."
He scoffs, "Well, out of all the little sisters. You're the best one. The alpha, if you will."
"Damn right." I laugh, he does too, and he puts me down and holds me at arms length, staring while he smiles, tears brimming his eyes, relief in every line of his handsome face.
I turn in a circle, unwilling to believe that this is it, this is how this ends, with me in a room with everyone I love, with all these people that have been threatened again and again because I dared to step out of line, and even though Snow threatened to kill them, and Coin threatened to kill them, all because I defied the both of them, I can't believe they still have the kindness in their hearts to love me.
"It's over now, Emerald." Astrid tells me, smiling. She's carefully dabbing beneath her eyes, making sure her make-up doesn't run. "Plutarch confirmed it. You're cleared of all charges. You're free to go."
It's the sweetest sentence I've ever heard.
****
The bed in Astrid's house is magnificent, after everything. But despite actually having a proper, soft, large bed with proper pillows and an actual duvet on it, I can't sleep.
We had dinner at Astrid's, all of us. They filled me in on a lot of stuff that happened after I killed Coin.
There was a pretty big power struggle, it seems. Everyone was moving to take power. 13 were best suited to rule, what with their funding and their organisation, but with the whole country scrutinising, they couldn't just sweep in and stick another dictator on the throne. So 13 stepped back and a coalition was eventually formed, and the 13 Districts plus the Capitol each elected a council member, and that Council elected a President. It's a District 8 Commander called Paylor, a woman of peace, I hear.
It's not an ideal system, not yet. There is room for improvement, and with everything that has happened, peace is at the forefront of all agendas. Paylor's first act was to completely outlaw the Hunger Games. That period of our history is over.
Paylor wanted to offer me a pardon right away, apparently, but it was a few other of the council members, mostly District 13, who wanted me imprisoned.
Birch made a point of sending the footage I asked him to get from my hospital room to a few broadcasting companies. It showed the moment when Coin revealed Marie to be my mother, and the moment following where she threatened to kill her. After that was revealed, not many people could find reasons to keep me imprisoned. Especially when Plutarch started to push too, with all his considerable power.
With Plutarch and Paylor both pushing for my release, the opposition conceded finally.
District 13 didn't even want to heal me, Astrid informed me with a nasty bite to her words over dinner. Apparently, just like with my wounds from the arena, they wanted me to heal naturally. But apparently the bullet hit me in the shoulder at an angle, and exited through my collarbone, shattering it instantly. It tore muscles and ligaments, and could have paralyzed me had I not had advanced medical treatment.
After that, there'd been a lot of debate as to whether or not I deserved freedom. Sure, the surveillance footage proved Coin threatened me, and Thatcher is living proof of her maliciousness, but there's still the question of my past. A lot of those debates had been public, and a lot of good and bad things had been said about me. None of my life has been left private.
That was a blow, to find that out, but if it meant that people didn't advocate for my death, then I guess I can't complain.
With a groan, I roll onto my stomach and shove my face into the plush pillow. I've gotten used to sleeping on the ground, in trees, using rocks for pillows. It feels like I'm trying to lie suspended on a flimsy cloud.
I'm just drifting off when a soft knock on the door startles me out of bed. I'm not entirely certain I actually heard a noise, but it's evident I didn't dream anything when the door swings open slowly. I'm on my feet, breathing heavy, squinting into the gloom.
"Did I frighten you?" He murmurs.
It's Peeta. My mouth falls open, just a little bit. He looks a damn sight better than me. No blemishes, no scars, his hair has been cut. His clothes are of good quality. Though he looks a bit sheepish now, hunching his wide shoulders and ducking his head to make himself shorter. His eyes stay pinned to the floor.
"Am I dreaming?" I ask, this seems too good to be true. Surely, I can't have him too. Not after being given my freedom and my family, I have to lose something to balance it all out.
"Of course not." He smiles, stepping into the room properly. He nudges the door shut with his heel. "I'm sorry I didn't come to see you earlier today."
"Why weren't you there?" I ask, a little too harshly. I'm glaring at him. "I thought... I thought you'd left."
He huffs and scrubs a hand through his sunshine yellow hair, mussing the careful hairstyle. His cheeks flame scarlet.
"As if I could leave you," Peeta rolls his eyes, smiling but still embarrassed, "But I just... I didn't want an audience."
I frown. Of course, this is the first time nobody at all has had their eyes on us. No cameras, no crowd, no psychotic cousin or murderous President. The realisation makes me shiver, and suddenly I'm conscious of my short nightdress, far too flimsy.
"Why not?" I ask him, and my chest is heaving. I'm blinking too quickly.
Peeta approaches, and he does it slowly, giving me time to pull back, pull away, warn him off. I do no such thing.
He pauses right in front of me, just inches away, close enough for my chest to brush his, close enough for us to share breath. Mine hitches in panic, in anticipation, in overwhelming joy that he is here and we're together.
"Because they've had enough of us." He murmurs, "Because they've watched every single moment we've had together. I want us to have something to ourselves. Just a moment."
"Just one?" I can't help but grin at him. I have to tip my head back to look properly into his eyes.
"A lot. Many. All of them. I want every single moment." He's breathless, blue eyes bright, face flushed with excitement, with fear.
"Every single one?" I'm playing with him, speaking softly. "That's a bit greedy, Peeta Mellark."
"Ask me if I care, Emerald Casteel." He reaches for me, and it's hard for me to not make a noise as his hands capture my waist, fingers curling around my hips, pulling me gently against him, flush against his chest.
I slide my hands up his toned forearms, his full biceps, wide shoulders, his neck, one hand sliding up into his soft hair and one on his chiselled jaw. He's magnificent, he's absolutely perfect, he's all mine, I realise.
"You're not leaving?" I ask him, and my voice shakes.
"Of course not. I'm not leaving your side until you order me away."
"Well then, I'm afraid we're stuck together."
"You promise?" He settles his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his arms tight around me. I think he might be convincing himself that this is real.
"I swear."
"Good." He takes a deep breath, and with his eyes still closed he confesses; "I love you, Emerald. I love you with everything that I am."
He's afraid of my answer, so afraid his eyes squeeze tight, his arms bracing around me like he's expecting a rejection. I wouldn't dream of giving him one.
"I love you too, Peeta." I whisper, my voice cracking. "With everything that I am."
*****
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