Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/562105.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Hunger_Games_Trilogy_-_Suzanne_Collins, Hunger_Games_Series_-_All_Media
      Types
  Relationship:
      Katniss_Everdeen/Peeta_Mellark
  Character:
      Katniss_Everdeen, Peeta_Mellark
  Additional Tags:
      Romance, Adventure, Alternate_Universe_-_Historical, Robin_Hood_-
      Freeform, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Sexual_Tension, Marriage_of
      Convenience, Battle_Scenes, Language
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-13 Completed: 2013-08-10 Chapters: 15/15 Words: 57816
****** Legend ******
by HGRomance
Summary
     People in the kingdom whispered about a legend: a boy with a bow.
     They said he took up residence in the woods, hiding out while
     committing random acts of kindness, namely stealing from the rich and
     giving to the poor. Historical AU. Robin Hood.
Notes
     Originally published on FF. net. I was inspired by Robin Hood. It's
     based very loosely on the tale. I'm by no means an expert on the
     original, just wanted have fun. If that's fine with you guys, then
     happy reading.
     Many thanks to my beta reader, Dustwriter! And to Ro Nordmann for the
     awesome banner!
     Disclaimer: I do not own THE HUNGER GAMES trilogy. It belongs to
     Suzanne Collins. I merely want to spend more time with her
     characters.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                    LEGEND
Peeta
He stood amongst the crowd and watched the girl beneath the tent of his hood.
She kept fumbling with the ring on her right hand—a plump emerald blossoming
from a gold band, superfluous and cold as a monarch's throne. Its value was
enough to feed the entire village. Everyone here knew it, and everyone within
the boundaries of Panem's kingdom was hungry.
Except King Snow. And his court. And his guards.
And that girl.
His Majesty and company gathered on the castle's terrace to announce her
engagement to Snow's youngest son, Seneca. The mass of peasants who'd been
corralled into the courtyard to hear the news pretended to react with joy,
though they were too tired and embittered and tattered and starving to listen
to the king hail a wedding feast they wouldn't be invited to. Still, they did
their best to cheer.
The girl's radiance and the fiery orange color of her velvet gown helped with
that, for it boasted everyone's mood to look upon something so fair. Lady
Katniss Everdeen came from a city called The Seam, a place that no one had ever
heard of. She wasn't royalty, but she did have a titled father. That and the
fit of her dress must have been enough to send the prince into an eager
tailspin.
Seneca kept looking at her like a famished beast, gaze narrowed and slinking
over her from head to slippered feet. It was pathetic, Peeta thought.
The girl's expression reflected indifference toward her surroundings, a
tightness of mind and heart that matched the tight threads of her side braid. A
vain girl. A spoiled girl. A girl that, despite all this, caused an
inexplicable riot within him.
Peeta shook off the unwelcome reaction and adjusted the quiver hidden beneath
his cloak, securing it closer to him. The girl groped that ring as if she
feared it would disappear. She was right, because it would. Very soon.
He adjusted his hood and smirked.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Katniss
I hated this ring. I hated this dress. I hated this castle.
The jewel was heavy as a shackle on my finger. The gown clung to my arms and
shoulders, the bodice cut far too low, the whole design created to parade me
around as nothing more than a well-bred mare. The palace loomed around me like
a spectacular prison. My fiance wouldn't stop tossing me wolfish looks. My nose
wrinkled from the overabundant muskiness of whatever he bathed himself in,
which wafted like a mating call across the courtyard and clashed with the reek
of unwashed bodies surrounding the terrace.
I never knew depression had a weight to it. I longed to be home, in the warm
embrace of my bedsheets, the comfort of my father's earthy voice, the
everything of my sister, Prim. But that wasn't to be my fate. Our city by the
Seam River needed me to secure an alliance with this farce of a benevolent
ruler. It was no secret how King Snow treated his people, yet he'd agreed to
keep The Seam fed and protected from invasion, upon my marriage to his son.
Panem had nothing to gain from our lands or my family, as my father possessed
no wealth beyond his title. The only thing of value was me, my future, my vows.
Seneca wanted me that much.
It wasn't a great sacrifice for the king. Seneca was his third son, and
therefore the prince could be less picky for his choice of wife. Unlike Marvel,
the firstborn, who'd married a princess named Clove. I'd forgotten who the
second son, Cato, had wed. Some blond maiden with a ridiculous name.
I wanted to vomit all over Seneca's polished boots. I had to bear the weight of
this hideous ring and pretend I was fine wearing such finery in front of a
group of starving faces. I had to pretend this was right and just and the
natural way of things.
Several times my fingers sought out the ring, comparing it to the corded
bracelet around my wrist. The bracelet had no value apart from its meaning.
Everyone back home wore one. To pass your Seam bracelet onto someone else was
the greatest sign of respect and loyalty. Usually people traded bracelets with
the person they would marry, but there was no way I was going to offer it to
Seneca. It represented my devotion in a way nothing else would, much more than
my engagement ring.
Temptation got the better of me as I imagined tossing the emerald bauble into
the throng. I went so far as to scan the audience, searching for a possible
recipient.
That's when my gaze collided with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. A dark hood
shrouded the rest of his face, but those irises flashed in my direction,
sending my pulse into an inexplicable frenzy. How I was able to see them from
this distance baffled me.
He wasn't tall, but from the drape of his cloak hinted at a solid frame and
confident posture that I envied. I looked away, instantly regretting the loss
of him.
I glanced back. He was gone.
 
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     Music: "Promentory" by Trevor Jones.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Katniss
Effie wouldn't stop prattling on about the surplus of crystal chandeliers in
King Snow's palace. Resting inside the upholstered stomach of our carriage, I
leaned my profile against the wall and gazed out at the forest, using the view
as a distraction and drowning out my chaperone's incessant chatter. When we
first hired her, my father had argued that the woman was a flawless example of
"ladyness"—he had a penchant for making up his own words—and I'd do well to
learn from her. The only ladyness about Effie that I valued was her ability to
talk for me. I rarely favored speech, and her mouth swelled with enough
dialogue for us both.
"Such a pity we weren't able to get the full advantage of grandeur. Some people
don't have an eye for these things," she piped.
I sensed her giving me a pointed look. She was still bitter that I'd rejected
the king's offer for us to stay one more night as his guests. We'd already been
in Panem for three days. I wanted to go home.
Upon my decision, Effie had thrown a genteel fit. She struggled to hide her
outrage beneath a veneer of composure, yet she stomped her foot twice while
insisting it was bad manners to fling His Majesty's generosity out the window.
I'd been tempted to throw herout the window.
During our ride, she produced a deliberately mournful sigh that curled to the
roof of the carriage, its echo hovering above us like a stubborn cloud. It was
similar to the noise she made whenever she wasn't complimented on her style
during a gathering.
I fingered my corded bracelet and closed my eyes while listening to the
vehicle's wheels grinding over foliage. I loved the forest. There was nothing
more inviting than the thick tangle of bark and leaves, the scent of soil, the
childish trickle of a brook as it carved through the landscape. I wished I
could steal away and live in the woods forever.
I'd recently heard a tale about someone who did. I was too skeptical to believe
in legends, but one in particular had caught my attention when I arrived in
Panem. On my first night in the palace, female members of Snow's court gushed
to me about a mysterious boy. People in the kingdom whispered about him taking
residence in the woods with a band of thieves, hiding out while committing
random acts of kindness, namely stealing from the rich and giving his booty to
the poor. Reports had been circulating throughout the land about aristocrats
being ambushed in remote locations and stripped of their finery. Followed by
subsequent reports of starving families finding a pouch of gold coins or gems
or game on their doorstep.
The rich huffed and puffed, bloated with outrage at such accounts. To say
nothing of King Snow's fury. Whenever these outlaws intercepted His Majesty's
own cargo, they left his guards limping and confused.
Many claimed the boy who led this band possessed remarkable skill with a bow,
that he could spear his target from impossible distances, that no one could
match him in grace and speed and accuracy. Nor could they stand a chance of
finding him. He and his men were said to disappear once their job was done,
vanishing like a magic trick.
This made me snicker. No one in this world possessed inhuman skills, perhaps
except for Effie, who never ran out of things to talk about and could certainly
go on for eternity.
"He's rumored to be handsome. Uncommonly so," one of the women had gushed to
me.
"And dangerous," another female purred.
The women had touched my shoulder, wine sloshing over the rims of their
goblets. They blushed, though I hadn't been sure if it had to do with their
description of the boy or their evident drunkenness.
In any case, the story sounded so absurd, so blatantly manufactured, that I'd
considered saving it for when I saw Prim again. My sister loved legends.
Now, with my eyes shut and the gentle rocking of the carriage hypnotizing me, I
tried to imagine what this enigma of a boy might look like. And a set of
decadently blue eyes flashed in my head.
The carriage jolted to a standstill. It happened so fast that it launched my
chaperone and I forward, propelling us to the opposite side of our cabin. Effie
squeaked, straightening her gold brocade cap and helping me back to my seat.
I poked my head out of the carriage. The royal guards assigned to escort us
home wrestled to control their horses. The first one to succeed trotted over to
me, a hulking statue made up of muscle and frequent scowls, always looking as
though he'd just been told a filthy joke. His name was Brutus.
"Sorry, my lady. The animals got spooked," he said, his eyes scanning the tree
line.
I glanced at the sword bouncing against his hip. Apprehension gnawed at my
spine. "What's happened?"
"It's best if you stay inside the carriage" was all he said.
I hesitated, distrusting his bravado. Nothing alerted me to a problem more than
a calm expression. The guard had tuned into something, a disturbance that
hadn't made itself known yet, but he wasn't willing to alarm me. I pondered why
men frequently thought this was the best course of action. Keeping women in the
dark only endangered them further and served no purpose but to pump up their
masculine egos to the point of no return.
The guards spread out, their weapons clinking against their armor. I peered at
the fringes of the forest and saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing. Not
even the wind.
A giggle at the rear of our carriage stole my attention. I twisted around and
quelled a laugh at the tongue sticking out at me. Rue, my friend and companion,
had been following us in another vehicle. No one in The Seam except my father
and Prim approved of Rue. I'd caused a scandal by choosing her as my lady's
maid. It was an advanced position in the hierarchical worlds of servants, and
I'd awarded it to someone of a different skin color, someone who people
believed should be scrubbing floors instead of helping me dress. Thankfully, I
maintained such good social connections within The Seam that no one voiced
their opinions to my face.
Rue leaned out of her carriage and was presently making funny faces at me. In
response, I crossed my eyes at her. At which point, she began to scrunch up her
features and flex her scrawny arms to imitate Brutus.
I covered my mouth with my hand. Then felt a pull on my skirt.
"Lady Katniss Everdeen," Effie snapped from inside our cabin. "I know what
you're doing. This is no time for games."
"There are worse games to play," I teased.
"Must I repeat myself? Get back in here."
I rolled my eyes at Rue and was about to sink into my seat when an arrow sliced
through the air, skewering the side of the carriage, landing right beside my
finger, beside my engagement ring. I yanked my hand back in shock.
Before I could register what was going on, Brutus started roaring orders. The
guards pivoted in different directions. The horses whinnied and reared back,
including the one pulling our carriage, sending us jostling forward and
stopping again. The force threw me halfway out the window, setting my teeth to
rattle. Shouts and metal and whistles radiated from all around me. Whipping my
head around, my eyes popped wide open as three cloaked men launched themselves
from the woods and attacked us.
All except one.
I spotted him above us, perched on high ground, a bow poised in his hands,
arrow aimed at Brutus. But then his head turned, just slightly, perhaps sensing
that I'd caught him. He shifted his bow, weapon now pointed at me. I wanted to
move, but a hint of a smile appeared beneath his hood as if to say, Try it.
He wouldn't miss. I dangled out of the carriage window, frozen, waiting for the
inevitable. My body toppled back inside under the force of Effie's panicked
tug.
"What, what, what," she shrieked.
It took me a moment to process. He didn't shoot me. He didn't shoot me.
"I don't know," I shouted. "It's—"
"It's the legend. That boy with the bow. He's here to kill us. He's here to—"
I slapped her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she fainted. I
ripped the ring off my finger, relief diluting my terror, grateful for the
excuse to rid myself of this trinket. It was the only thing of value that I had
with me. I still didn't believe the legend had come to haunt us, but I didn't
doubt the ring was what these bandits sought.
A frail scream—Rue—pierced my ears.
"No!" I trilled.
I dropped the ring into the bodice of my dress and tore out of the carriage,
catapulting toward the sound. A tall figure had Rue pinned against the wagon. I
rammed myself between them, holding up my hands.
"Stop!" I cried. "I know what you want."
"Oh, I doubt that," the fellow mocked, gray eyes twinkling. He was young. My
age.
I fumbled for the jewel, intending to give it to him and demand he leave us
alone, but he lunged for me. I rammed my knee between his legs, causing him to
keel over and howl. "Son of a bi—"
My leg swung out and knocked him upside the head, so instinctively that I
stunned myself for a second. He hit the floor, unconscious. I cast an anxious
glance at the battle going on between the guards and bandits. They didn't want
my entourage. They wanted my ring.
"Go," I said to Rue, aware of her skill with a horse.
"Katniss, no," she sobbed, her face covered in tears.
"Take Effie and make haste. Get home and tell—"
"Not without you. I can't—"
"Yes, you can." I grabbed her face and kissed her cheek and shoved her in the
direction of my carriage where Effie still lay.
I headed toward the fray, but then stopped short. The boy with the bow stormed
down the hill, halted at the lip of the forest, and in one swift motion whipped
two arrows from the pack hanging from his shoulder. Barely having time to aim,
he let them fly, knocking swords from the hands of two different warriors.
My dazed mind wondered if everything I'd heard about this so-called legend was
true, and whether I was staring right at that legend. He would take out my
protectors in a matter of minutes, with or without his band of thieves. I had
to distract him. I had to give him what he wanted, but I also I had to get him
away from the apex of the battle.
I manuevered closer to him and waved my arms. "Over here!"
The instant his body swerved in my direction, my blood chilled. His attention
was a fist to the chest, capsizing me and wiping me of breath. This without
even seeing his whole face. Again, that taunting smile of his.
I produced the ring and wiggled it, knowing he could easily shoot it from my
fingers or fire at me. Remembering his last opportunity to strike me down—an
opportunity he didn't take—I trained my gaze on him, silently communicating my
next move.
Now, you try it.
His smile vanished.
I ran. My lungs blazed as I plowed into the forest, crashing through branches
so sharp they cut my neck. I dropped the jewel back into the bodice of my gown.
I felt him pursuing me, felt his movements like I felt my own ragged, high-
pitched gasps. I craned my head over my shoulder but saw no one, then turned
back around.
And smacked into a tree trunk. White spots filled my vision and my head swelled
with pain. A thin noise pierced the air. I sprinted forward, desperate to flee,
but the neckline of my cape tightened across my neck. Twisting, I found an
arrow lodged into the trunk, securing the hood of my cape against the bark.
Only a hair's width to the left and the weapon could have breached my skull.
Hands shaking, I freed myself from the garment and lurched across the grass. He
tackled me from behind, forcing us both to the ground where he gripped my
forearms and stamped them into the dirt, his body heaving against mine. I lay
face first, questions spinning through my mind. What if this boy wanted more
than the ring? What if he tried to defile me?
A jagged rock lay a few inches from my hand. My knuckles curled.
"Don't even think about it," he warned, his breath moist against my ear, his
voice youthful and possessing a tendency to crack on certain words.
I seized the rock, but he was too fast, flipping me around and landing directly
between my thighs as he restrained my wrists above my head. Our chests beat
against one another. A guttural sound escaped me, fading into a squeak when the
hood fell off his head.
His blond hair glinted in the sun, moist from sweat and curling beneath his
ear. An angular square jaw. A pert nose, straight as one of his arrows. A
boyish face. And a pair of blue eyes squinting at me like two misplaced stars.
Eyes that I'd seen before.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Peeta
She recognized him. That was his first thought. Her face was alive with fear,
yet she clenched her teeth to keep her lips from trembling.
His second thought was how foolishly brave she'd acted—it was clear now. She'd
bargained her freedom, used herself to distract him so her female companion
could get away and her guards could stand a fighting chance in combat.
Peeta Mellark was furious. Nothing had gone according to plan. It usually
didn't, but somehow his band always managed to succeed through instinct and
swiftness. Their ability to play dirty made them oddly efficient.
The fireball of a female writhed beneath him, refusing to give up even though
she had nothing on his strength. She flopped around, arms and legs going
everywhere, and he considered whether he should wait her out until she got
tired or do something more drastic.
She spit at him. Drastic it was.
He dug his hips into the juncture of her thighs and she stiffened. She hadn't
expected that. The same way Gale hadn't expected the girl's knee to meet his
groin—Peeta had seen the whole thing and would deal with Gale later.
"Where is it?" he asked.
She shook her head. Not a very talkative one.
Peeta tilted his head, studying her for a moment, watching her face suffuse
with color, pink bursting from her cheeks. He lowered his voice another notch.
"Where. Is. It?"
"It's yours if you let me go."
He laughed and quirked an eyebrow. "Somewhere private, I'd wager."
His hand drifted down her ribcage, getting dangerously close to her navel,
further down still...she squirmed, her hips bucking upward and causing him to
jerk in surprise. It had been a reflex. She hadn't intended it. She'd been
trying to fend off his hand, but his anatomy responded all the same.
This infuriated Peeta off even more. His hand continued its descent.
"Okayokayokay," she pleaded. "It's up here." Her eyes flitted toward her bodice
to indicate the ring's location, and she turned away, biting her lip, her
embarrassment evident.
Peeta squinted at her. Carefully, slowly, he reached into the front of her
gown, feeling her heartbeat quicken, beads of perspiration forming over the
downy skin between her breasts. His fingers wrapped around a cold surface. He
pulled out the ring, and they watched it glint between them.
"I won't say anything." Her scratchy voice snapped him out of his trance. "You
can let me go—"
He unsheathed a knife and pressed it to the hollow beneath her throat.
"I'm sorry, Lady Everdeen, but I cannot." Peeta used his free hand to dig
through the pack strapped across his chest. Pulling out strips of cloth, he
proceeded to tie her wrists, then gag and blindfold her, making quick work of
it. He hauled her to her feet, chuckling and dodging her efforts when she tried
her signature knee trick with him. He swung her over his shoulder and carried
her across the forest while she flailed about like a madwoman.
"Unhand me, you criminal!" she shrieked. "Let me go! Let me gooooo!"
By the time he reached his group, the girl had lost momentum and hung there
like a hundred-pound sack of flour. She'd probably exerted herself to the point
of unconsciousness.
Gale, Finnick, and Thresh waited by their usual rendezvous point with the
horses. Finnick and Thresh bagged weapons they must have pilfered from the
guards. Gale kicked the ground and stewed. The lump on his head stuck out, and
he was walking funny. He was going to have a hell of a time riding his horse
back to camp.
Peeta considered that punishment enough for his friend's lapse in focus.
Instead of doing what he was supposed to and heading straight for Lady
Everdeen, Gale had gotten jumped by that tiny, dark-skinned sprite and had
decided to intimidate the girl. Then the Everdeen maiden had jumped in to save
her companion, and Gale had gotten double blows to the codpiece and temple.
Out of everyone in their criminal group, Gale was the most reckless and
temperamental, always acting on impulse. But he'd been the first friend Peeta
had ever made on the road, so Peeta couldn't stay mad at him for long.
Peeta wasn't surprised to see his band all in one piece. They could handle
their own without the benefit of his arrows, though they preferred not to. His
aim was their secret weapon. They informed him that, thankfully, they'd
overtaken the royal guards without any casualties. Their rule was never to kill
unless absolutely necessary.
But dammit, the girl's actions had increased that threat that today. Someone
could have ended up dead because she led him astray. No mistaking, the guards
had outnumbered them greatly.
Finnick tossed an apple at Peeta, which he caught with one hand.
"Looks like you made a pretty friend," Finnick cooed, eyeing the landscape of
curves dangling from Peeta's shoulder.
"What do we need her for?" Gale demanded. "You got the ring, right?"
Thresh read Peeta's face and answered for him. "She belongs to Seneca."
"She's a bargaining chip," Peeta clarified.
"Can she ride with me?" Finnick asked, flashing his teeth and mounting his
horse. "I'd love to feel her bounce."
Peeta bit into the apple, chewed, and swallowed. He wasn't in the mood to joke.
He was in the mood to plan. The people of Panem were denied the basics of
survival, and he stole it for them at every opportunity. Thinking on it, the
ring's value was nothing compared to the body balanced on his frame. When he
first saw Lady Everdeen and her jewel in the courtyard, he hadn't thought to
set his standards higher, to up the stakes.
Now, he could. And he would use this pampered and privileged girl to do it.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Katniss
I awoke blindfolded and with a sore bottom. Something massive and alive pounded
beneath me. The rhythmic breathing that could only belong to an animal pelted
my ears. Recognizable forest sounds—the crumpling and quivering of
leaves—floated through my ears. Feeling the sun on my face, I jerked and my
back collided with a muscled torso.
Then I remembered. The boy with the bow had kidnapped me. The scent of horse
flesh and male flesh and sandalwood and, peculiarly, cinnamon wafted through my
nose. A pair of arms draped loosely across my lap, holding me in place. I was
on his horse. I was in his arms. I was his prisoner.
He'd had his hands down my dress.
I wiggled as far from him as I could get and heard a mean-spirited snicker.
"You're awake," he said, his breath stroking the back of my neck, my skin
betraying me by sprouting goose bumps.
I pressed my lips together.
"You will talk to me, eventually," he said. "Or I'll use you for target
practice. I never miss."
"Arrogance is an affront to humility," I said.
"Big words are an affront to intelligence."
It irritated me that he got me to speak in the first place. My silence was the
only weapon I had, though I didn't doubt his promise to use more violent
methods to get whatever he wanted from me.
"If you never miss, there's no need to practice," I muttered.
"That's true. Nevertheless, I'll say it again. I never miss," he repeated.
"And if you do, I also have something sharp and straight that never misses its
target," a suave voice said from somewhere to the right. "Bet that would be
more effective on her."
My captor pulled me closer as if claiming ownership over me. I heard and felt
him whip the reigns, sending us galloping ahead, away from his companion's
masculine laughter. We rode in silence for so long that it startled me when we
stopped.
The boy with the bow jumped off the horse and pulled me down, then seized my
arm and dragged me with him. He sat me against what felt like a tree trunk,
then bound me to it, the straps tight enough for me to breathe but not move.
The stomping of hooves signaled that the rest of his band had reached us and
were dismounting.
Whispers. I shifted, attempting to beat down the panic worming its way through
my blood. What would they do to me?
Out of nowhere, the blindfold was removed. I blinked and focused on those
steely blue eyes. My captor knelt in front of me and held out a piece of bread.
My mouth watered. I hadn't eaten breakfast. The morning's official engagement
announcement had left me without an appetite.
My head leaned forward to bite the bread, but he withdrew it at the last
second. "We're going to play a game," he said. "I'm going to ask a question and
if you answer, you can have a taste. I baked it myself."
I glared at him. Boys didn't bake.
I took my time agreeing to his terms, using it to inspect my surroundings. It
was a camp. Wide tents circled around a fire pit. Pots and pans hung from
strings tied to a tree branch and hovered above a crude, makeshift oven. Target
markers were painted onto other random trunks. A stringed instrument that I
identified as a lute—probably stolen—rested by the pit.
The place was surprisingly cozy. And remote. We'd traveled deep into the woods.
A boy with skin as dark as Rue's planted himself by the pit and began grinding
something into a mortar. A striking young man with reddish hair and the facial
features of a mythological deity winked at me as he passed.
The one I defended Rue against fumed, not knowing what to do with himself.
"Where's Jo?" he asked, glancing around.
"Probably working off her anger," the redhead said.
Her? Who was her?
The redhead gestured toward me. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Peet?"
Peeta pointed out each boy and rattled off their names. Finnick. Gale. Thresh.
"And I'm Peeta. I'm—" he began.
"The notorious bow boy," I said. "An outlaw, and a thief, and now my captor."
His smile took me off guard. The was no other way to put it. It was adorable.
And utterly disproportionate to his reputation as a dangerous criminal.
"What's your family name?" I asked.
"Mellark," he answered, bemused by my interest. "Ready to play?"
I nodded reluctantly. I was too hungry and too kidnapped to refuse.
"Why Seneca Crane?"
I gaped. I hadn't anticipated that question. "Mr. Mellark—"
"Peeta."
"Mr. Mellark—"
"Peeta."
"Very well, Peter," I said, deliberately mispronouncing his name, "I'm not sure
what you want to know."
"It's Peeta," he said. "Putting aside the question of taste in general, I want
to know why, in the name of sanity, you'd choose that louse. Did I make myself
clear enough for you?"
"You have a refined tongue for a ruffian," I remarked, adding a dash of
haughtiness to my words.
"Poverty doesn't make us simpletons, my lady. My father taught me to read. I've
taught my friends as much as I could, but I wouldn't fret over it if I were
you. Our differences in rank will be more obvious once you see us eat with our
hands. Are you going to answer my question?"
"I have to marry him. Panem will give The Seam food and protection if I do. We
have scarce resources, and Seneca likes me, and I'm of age."
Peeta frowned. What had he thought? That I'd made this match for self-
advancement? For wealth and power?
Well, of course he did. That's what everyone thought.
My response seemed to have caused a rift in his interrogation because he
struggled to come up with another question. Though he didn't have to. Just
then, a willowy girl with spiky hair—boy's hair—marched into the camp and flung
an axe across the space. It landed right between Gale's legs, sending him
falling off the log where he'd stationed himself. The one called Finnick burst
into laughter. The one called Thresh shook his head.
"You left without me again," she hissed.
Peeta nodded his head toward the girl, not taking his eyes off me. "And that's
Johanna."
Gale rose, wiping dirt from his pants. "Why do you always take this stuff out
on me?"
"You took off behind my back!"
"It was Peet's call. You're not ready for fighting yet. We all agreed with
him."
"Not ready? You see where my axe landed? I didn't miss, you idiot!"
Gale grunted and stalked off. Johanna gave the group a onceover, pausing to
grimace at me. "Who's she?"
"A hostage," Finnick beamed.
Johanna didn't bother to respond. She pointed at Peeta. "You went without me.
You left while I was asleep. I hate you."
Peeta sighed. She took off after Gale.
Peeta held out the bread, waiting patiently while I ripped off chunks with my
teeth, not caring how savage I looked doing it. He offered me water from a
canteen and watched droplets leak from the corners of my mouth, eyes lingering
there before snapping up to meet mine. I gulped.
Without a word, he straightened and left, heading toward wherever Johanna and
Gale had gone. Finnick and Thresh followed him as if by unspoken rule.
My head fell against the tree. Being face to face with that boy was exhausting.
I imagined he and his band were about to have some sort of meeting about what
to do with me. Dread coursed through my chest. I knew that Peeta already had
something in mind. It wasn't hard to guess what. My life had been bargained
once already, so I knew the signs. Peeta wanted to sell me back to Snow and
Seneca, to negotiate my freedom at the right price. A price high enough to feed
the whole of Panem.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
By nightfall, I lost all feeling in my body from being secured to the tree.
Peeta and his band of rebels gathered around the fire. The flames licked the
air and flickered off his chiseled jaw, illuminating his face as he stared at
the pit. Since we last spoke, he hadn't glanced at me once.
Gale strummed that lute I'd seen earlier. I recognized the tune.
When he finished playing, he stood and crossed over to me, offering me a piece
of meat they'd been roasting, evidently taking over his boss's job. "Hope you
like squirrel," he said.
It was a rarity to find someone with the same gray eyes and olive skin as my
own. In Panem, at least. How had I not noticed this before?
'"You're from The Seam," I ventured.
Guilt creased his features. He didn't deny it. He hadn't reacted when I
mentioned earlier that I was from there. He must have given his corded Seam
bracelet to someone because I didn't see him wearing one.
He nodded. "I am. Eat."
I accepted the squirrel, letting him feed me, too famished to savor the taste.
"What are you doing here?" I asked after my last bite.
"Long story," he said. "I got caught poaching. I was banished."
"That was you?" I reeled.
I knew the story, but I'd never met him and hadn't known his name. His parents
had died in some sort of accident almost a year ago, leaving him to fend for
himself. My father, being a member of the aristocracy, had jurisdiction over
poaching. He understood why people in The Seam did it, but he believed in duty
and upholding the law. Thus, our sheriff, Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, was obligated
to maintain the example by punishing such lawbreakers. Gale was one of them.
"I know that song you were playing. The valley song," I said, and then hummed
the melody.
Gale's face lit up. "Yes, that's it. And you have the voice for it."
"I'm not as good as Greasy Sae's husband. He sings it every year at the Spring
Festival."
"I remember the Saes. My parents used to buy potatoes from them. How are they?"
"Bickering as usual."
He offered me a tentative smile. I matched his grin with one of my own.
A thud made us jump. Peeta had thrust a log into the fire, his eyes trained on
us. He'd witnessed our bonding session and hadn't enjoyed it. He picked up his
bow and pack of arrows and stalked over to us, looking for something to say. I
waited.
"Are your bindings comfortable?" he asked.
For some reason, I lied and said they were. He nodded and retreated toward his
tent.
Finnick shook his head, picking up another piece of squirrel. "Wow, Peet. You
really know how to charm a lady. It explains your track record."
Peeta spun around and impaled Finnick's meat with an arrow. In the dark. Again
with no time to aim.
Finnick reflexively dropped his food. "I really hate it when you do that."
Making no effort to conceal the nerve his friend had hit, Peeta scowled and
disappeared into his tent. The minute he did, Johanna threw a bone at Finnick.
"What's wrong with you? Are you that brainless?"
"I..." Finnick sighed, seeming to realize he'd crossed a line. "I didn't
think."
Gale went back to playing the lute to cover up the silence that followed,
leaving me to ponder what that had been about.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Something tugged me from my slumber. My lids fluttered open and I gasped,
afraid I was dreaming.
"Rue!" I pressed my head into her shoulder when she hugged me. "Oh my God,
Rue."
She pulled back and put a finger to her lips, pointing at the tents. It was the
middle of the night, and everyone was asleep.
"Where are you doing here?" I said as she undid my restraints.
She freed me, and I cried out in relief, rubbing my wrists and shoulders, then
standing to stretch. We hustled a short distance from the camp.
"I followed you," she admitted.
I balked. "You what?"
"I couldn't leave you. Brutus got away and took Effie to safety, but I hid in
the trees so he wouldn't see me, then I followed Mellark's band of not-so-merry
boys, and then I saw Mellark carrying you, and I tailed you here. When I saw
them tie you up, I got worried they'd hurt you, but I couldn't fight them by
myself. I went back to Snow's palace to get help."
"Then where are the reinforcements?"
My friend wavered.
"Rue?" I prompted.
"They're not coming."
"What?"
"I'm sorry, Katniss. I told Snow about Mellark's camp. I said that he was real,
not just some legend. And the king does want to save you, but...he
had...another idea."
"Idea?" I repeated in disbelief. "This is his chance to catch Peeta Mellark.
You have the location to his camp."
"He wants more than that. He wants to catch Mellark in the palace, in front of
everyone. He wants to make an example out of him. He wants it to be a...a
show."
My heart sank. "And he wants me to bring Mellark there."
Rue nodded, checking over my shoulder to make sure we were still alone. "He
wants you to get close to them, earn their trust if you can. You're to tell
them that a large import shipment of riches is arriving in a week's time. Gold.
Jewels. Relics. Armor. Anything that sounds impossible to refuse. Tell them you
know the layout of the castle. Tell them you can get them in. It wouldn't be a
lie."
"A trap," I said.
Rue smiled sadly at me.
"I can't deceive people."
"It's the only way. You may be his son's fiance, but he wants to catch Mellark
in a public way more than he wants to rescue you for Seneca. If we run now, the
king's withdrawing the betrothal contract and The Seam will..."
The Seam would lose the food and protection my marriage would have bought it.
My family, my friends and neighbors, they would all starve and continue to live
in the same deprivation that had been crippling them for years.
Snow might even make an enemy of us. This thought made my gut twist and haunted
me to no end. I owed it to my home to do this, but so many doubts and terrors
clamored inside me, especially the fear that I wasn't up to the task. There was
nothing spectacular about me. I wasn't good with speeches. I wasn't a leader
like Peeta Mellark. I lacked the skill to convince strangers, a band of outlaws
no less, to welcome me into their lives. I wasn't that good. Why didn't Snow
see this?
"Katniss, are you listening?"
Whatever Rue had been saying, no, I hadn't been listening. I'd been too busy
tallying the odds. They weren't in my favor.
"I'll do it," I said numbly.
My friend smoothed her fingers over my braid. "I can come here every day and
make sure—"
"No. It's too risky," I lectured. "You won't be hurt because of me."
We grasped each other in a tight hug, and I thought of every time we snuck into
one another's room to whisper and laugh until dawn, every time we shared a
private joke, every time Rue told me I was strong even though I didn't believe
her. I'd never had a more unconditional friend. I wanted nothing but to keep
her by my side. She gave me peace. Seeing her batch of crooked teeth whenever
she smiled reminded me why my life needed to be secondary, why every sacrifice
I made was worth it.
She had to leave as soon as possible before I clung to her permanently. Or
began to cry.
"Should I tie you back up?" she whimpered.
"No. Leave me like this," I said. If I had to get Peeta and his band to trust
me, I needed to start right away. But there was one pressing question coiling
within me like a spring.
"What if I fail?" I asked.
"I don't know," Rue whispered. "Snow didn't mention that."
Because he wasn't expecting me to fail. It was a silent message from the king
to me. Failure was out of the question.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Peeta
The last thing he expected when he woke up that morning was to find Lady
Everdeen upright and pointing his own bow and arrow at him. He halted in his
tracks just outside his tent. He'd been intending to bathe by the lake before
relieving Thresh from the morning watch along the main road—everyone rotated
this duty, not so much to look out for danger, but to spot wagons carting
potential swagger.
But there was the girl, weapon quaking in her hands. Her stance and grip were
horrible. If he wasn't worried about her intentions, he might have found this
moment, this girl, incredible. She wasn't very big. Or particularly pretty. Her
scowl, however, he liked very much. That and her daring, her selflessness,
which he hadn't expected when he first laid eyes on her. Those things made her
stunning.
Self-revulsion rattled through him for thinking this way. For allowing her to
churn his senses, proving that he hadn't learned a thing from the last time
he'd gotten distracted by a girl. And this one had an arrow clumsily pointed at
him. If she had the gall to release it, she would turn out a very messy shot
and injure herself in the process.
How in the hell had she gotten out of the binding?
He still felt guilty about leaving her there all night, even though he had no
reason to feel thus. He wasn't sure he believed her story about being forced to
marry Seneca Crane. For all Peeta knew, she was madly in love with the moron.
For all Peeta knew, Lady Everdeen was loyal to Snow. Guess he was about to find
out.
Again. How in the hell had she gotten out of the binding?
"Impressive," he said, crossing his arms. "But can you shoot?"
"From this distance I'm sure I can hit somethingimportant."
The corners of his mouth lifted. He could, he would, take her down easy. Bow or
no bow. He was faster than she gave him credit for.
All at once, she dropped the weapon. Peeta blinked in surprise.
"What the..." Finnick said behind him.
Gale and Johanna came out of their tents at the same time, both rendered
speechless. Johanna jolted toward Lady Everdeen, but Peeta immediately shook
his head in warning, and Gale held her back.
Peeta regarded the girl wearily. "If you run, I'll catch you."
That didn't impress her. "I could have run hours ago, but I didn't."
"Because...?" he asked, drawing out the question.
She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling and doing magnificent
things to neckline of her dress. "I want to join your group."
Johanna was the first to react. She laughed. Loud and obnoxious as usual.
Gale clamped a hand over her mouth, and she went nuts. She hated being
restrained as much as he did. In that regard, they were very much alike.
Peeta retrieved his weapons, watching the girl cautiously as he bent down and
straightened again. There was no way in Hades their band would permit another
person into their circle, particularly one with an upbringing above and beyond
their own. She was of noble blood. She was fooling herself.
She was hiding something from them. Based on the creases in Gale and Johanna's
faces, they'd drawn the same conclusion. Apparently, history was repeating
itself by thrusting yet another female into Peeta's path, hoping to massage his
trust into submission until the right moment when the girl could get her talons
into him. Into his group.
Maybe this girl was masterminding a scheme to lure them into Snow's grasp. How
she was planning to do this without outside help was up for debate. But being
Seneca's property, and the future daughter-in-law of a diabolical man like the
king, it was best not to underestimate her.
"Explain," he said, curious to know what excuse she'd come up with.
Lady Everdeen seemed discouraged but pushed ahead. "There's a shipment arriving
in a week to the palace. It's worth enough to support every soul in Panem for a
year."
Peeta wanted to strangle her on the spot. Of all sources of manipulation, she
was going to use starving people. She was going to target their greatest
vulnerability as a means to ensnare his band. There was no doubt now. She had
to have been lying about her own neighbors in The Seam, the ones she claimed to
be helping by marrying Seneca. She wouldn't formulate this sort of plan if it
were a truly sensitive subject for her, if her people were really going through
the same turmoil as the villagers of Panem.
"This is a joke?" he asked.
Lady Everdeen frowned. "You won't be able to intercept the shipment on the
road. It's being transported underground. I don't know where the passage
starts, but I know where in the palace it ends. I know how the guards operate.
I know how Snow operates. I know the process, where the shipment will be
stashed, the castle's weak spots. My friend, Rue, can help if we let her know—"
"Why?"
"Pardon?"
"Why would you help us?"
Gale roared, his hand launching from Johanna's mouth and fisting in pain. She'd
bitten him and wasted no time adding to the question. "He means, what's in it
for you, you little—"
"I don't want to be married to Seneca," Lady Everdeen said simply. "I never
did. This will get me out of it. As long as I accquire a portion of the wealth
for The Seam. That's the deal."
"So you're not asking us to kill the prince for you?" Johanna flared.
Lady Everdeen gaped. "I'm—I'm not a murderer."
"Snow might retaliate against your family for your disloyalty," Peeta pointed
out.
"Yes, he would. Ifhe knew I was working with you. I can keep my face hidden the
way you do when we cross into the castle, you can send him a message that you
killed me. He'll want nothing to do with The Seam after that. He won't even
know its people have come into riches. I can let my family in on the truth
later, once it's safe, but I'll have to stay away from them after that."
"And that would be worth it?"
"If it keeps them fed and me free, then yes."
This made so much sense that it actually gave Peeta pause. She might be telling
the truth. Who would want to be married to Seneca? The prince was a pig widely
rumored to have appetites that leaned toward masochistic. He was just as cruel
as his father, only his cruelty existed inside a much younger, stronger, more
energetic body. Still, trust wasn't handed out merely because the motivation
seemed plausible.
"What's in this shipment?" Finnick asked.
Peeta shot him a look. Why was Finnick was humoring the girl?
She hesitated. "A pendant that will make my ring look like a pebble."
Fact or falsehood? Real or not real?
"And gold," she continued. "But you'll have to disperse the riches slowly over
time, not all at once or Snow will notice the villagers living beyond their
means."
Peeta was insulted. He didn't need this girl telling him how to take care of
his own people.
"You must think we're stupid," he said finally.
Lady Everdeen flinched. He enjoyed watching her flinch. Matter of fact, he
enjoyed her discomfort far too much.
"I do if you think your alternative is better," she dared. "You were planning
to pawn my life for a bounty from Snow, right?"
It was Peeta's turn to flinch. She scoffed. "It's a lost cause. Snow may coddle
his son, but if you've been paying any attention you'd know the king is not
that sentimental. Not when saving me would mean he'd have to cave under the
demands of Peeta Mellark. He wouldn't tuck his tail between his legs so
publicly, especially to Panem's most notorious renegade. He'd just as soon let
you kill me."
Peeta clenched his teeth. She was right.
"I guess we'll have to kill you, then," Johanna sang.
"Or trust me," Lady Everdeen said.
He pretended to give it some thought, then said, "No."
A bevy of emotions flitted across her face before she settled on one that
seemed to cause her pain, and a flash of something else he couldn't identify.
She lifted her sleeve and unwound a plain corded bracelet from her wrist,
taking her time as if this action required ceremony. She stared at the bracelet
and then stepped toward Gale, holding it out to him.
Gale's brows pinched. A silent communication—an understanding—stirred between
them that Peeta had no chance of translating.
"Give this to him," she said to Gale.
Eons went by before he turned to Peeta and dropped the bracelet in his palm.
"She's telling the truth," Gale said.
"A bracelet?" Johanna demanded. "Oh, how reassuring. We don't have anything to
worry about."
Lady Everdeen looked away while Peeta thumbed the braided leather, so light in
his hand. Rough and delicate at the same time. This bracelet meant something to
her.
Gale explained its value, how people from his region were raised to give all of
themselves through these bracelets, to profess their absolute devotion. Handing
them over was like handing over a shred of one's own skin, one's faith, one's
word, one's promise, one's character.
It wasn't enough to change Peeta's mind, but it was enough to appease him. He
was about to ask Finnick to tie her up again while they convened as a group,
but then a familiar whistling tune road the current to their camp, carried to
them by the mocking birds nesting in the trees.
Their signal. A message from Thresh. He'd spotted a carriage worth robbing.
The group grabbed their weapons, then glanced at Peeta, waiting for his
instruction. To Johanna's outrage, he swiped her ax and tossed it to the
ground, ordered her to watch their prisoner, then took off with the boys,
Johanna's curses trailing behind them.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Katniss
Johanna grabbed me to tie me back up, but after two steps, once I was sure she
wasn't expecting it, I used a move little Rue once taught me. I snaked my leg
around hers and brought us both tumbling to the ground. I landed on top of her,
grabbed her axe, and pressed it against her neck.
Her face boiled with rage. "I knew it," she squawked. "I knew it, I knew it, I
knew it, I knew—"
"We're going after them." I stood and motioned with the axe for her to get up.
"Show me the way or I'll...I'll cut you."
"You'll have to cut me, then."
I admired her loyalty.
"I could do that, and then take off, and lead Snow back here to your friends.
You may have blindfolded me, but there are other ways of marking the woods."
She paled.
"Which is it?" I said.
"Why do you want to follow them?"
"Apparently, I'll have to prove myself to you lot. I can't do that tied to a
tree. Of course, I got free once before. I can do it again," I bluffed.
I hated doing this to her, but unfortunately I didn't have time to ease into
their group. I had only a week. I needed to gain their trust fast. Helping them
in any way I could while ambushing another transport seemed like a good way. I
hoped I was right. I wasn't accustomed to relying purely on instinct.
Johanna glowered at me, battling with her instinct. She could fight me for the
axe, but my sneaky ways must have convinced her not to misjudge my abilities.
Grunting, she got up, dusted herself off, and stormed ahead of me while I
continued to poke her with my far-too-heavy weapon. She mounted her horse and
helped me up behind her.
"Remember," I said, gripping the axe. "If you knock me off this animal, I will
find my way to the palace, and I'll memorize every tree branch on the way. I'm
fluent in forests. Back in The Seam, it's my happy place."
I sensed Johanna rolling her eyes as she dug her heels into the horse and sent
it flying.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
We reached the group just in time to see Peeta shoot the reigns out of the
coach driver's hands. Finnick, Gale, and Thresh unleashed on the guards.
Judging from the model of the vehicle, I divined the travelers to be members of
the aristocracy.
Johanna hid in the bushes, her anger at me shifting to eagerness. I'd counted
on that. Forcing her into the forefront of the action, I'd tapped into her
long-awaited desire to finally play a part. She wore the same expression Prim
did whenever she was about to sink her teeth into a piece of cake, which didn't
happen often.
Wordlessly, I handed Johanna her axe. She took it without thinking. "Those were
empty threats back there, weren't they?"
"I told you I wanted to help. Your axe is quite heavy, by the way."
She smirked. "I still don't trust you."
"Understood. But we can't leave now."
A battle cry caught our attention. Who knew such a sound could erupt from
Thresh's mouth? He dove into a sword fight with one of the guards while Finnick
apprehended a rotund, bewigged, and bejeweled man inside the coach, stripping
him of his gems.
Johanna let out a screech as another guard swung his weapon in the air, ready
to slash Gale across the back unbeknownst to him. Before either of us could
react, Peeta was there. It happened in slow motion for me. He galloped ahead
and bounded over a fallen log, agile as a cat, lifting his bow and shooting
while still in the air. The arrow sailed straight through a tunnel of arms and
weapons.
The guard went down before Peeta's feet hit the ground. I expelled a breath I
hadn't known I was holding.
Johanna crashed into the scene, hurrying toward Gale, ramming the butt of her
ax into an assailant's stomach on her way, then spinning around and taking out
another man about to pummel Thresh. Her speed and artistry were something
fierce to behold.
I focused on Finnick searching the interior of the coach for booty while the
fat aristocrat quivered in his seat, hands bound. Finnick wasn't looking in the
right place. Some carriages were equipped with secret built-in compartments to
hide riches. Our carriage hadn't had one, but I had seen them before. I ran
toward the vehicle, hoping to come to Finnick's aid.
Peeta choose that precise moment to knock a warrior unconscious and then whip
around, his blue eyes locking onto mine and narrowing, paralyzing me on the
spot.
We stared at each other. Was he furious? Shocked? Did I care?
Movement to his left caught my attention—a sword raising, the blade flashing
like an angry face, and I envisioned it carving through him, his blood seeping
into the soil, creating a Peetaless world. My legs cut across the space,
sprinting so fast I could have been one of his arrows. I dove for the shield
teetering on the chest of the limp warrior at Peeta's feet.
Shoving Peeta out of my way, I grabbed the shield and swung it upward,
squeezing my eyes shut. The sword collided against the safeguard, the impact
pounding me into the ground. Something sharp tore through my arm, causing a
monstrous sound to rip from my lungs. The earth split and lost all shape and
dissolved beneath me.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
The first thing I heard was Johanna and Gale barking at each other.
"He told you to watch her!"
"Jesus. She had an axe pointed at my neck. What the hell was I supposed to do?"
"You didn't have to get in the way. I was doing fine without you!"
"If I hadn't been there to rib that guard, you and your tall tanned ass would
be fastened to the road right now."
"My whatwould be where?"
"It was a clean raid!"
"Define clean!"
"The only man who died was about to kill you. We got the goods, didn't we? We
got out of there before they knew what hit them, but nooooooo. No thanks to us.
We did you boys a favor. Hell, I despise the girl, but even she saw that sword
coming before Peeta did. He'd be missing a head right now because he wasn't
paying attention!"
"Only because she distracted him!"
"Since when does Peeta Mellark get distracted, numskull?"
"Listen, halfwit—"
"Halfwhat!?"
A sharp whistling stopped them, followed by Finnick's voice. "I do believe our
lady is waking up."
The camp came into focus, followed by a bunch of gaping faces, all highlighted
by the midday sun filtering through the forest. They'd tucked me into a pallet
of blankets beside the unlit fire pit.
My gaze skipped over to the figure leaning against a tree. Peeta tensed,
arrested in the act of studying me, his expression admiring and confused
and...concerned. I rolled over and groaned, clutching my arm, which was wrapped
in cloth and spotted with blood.
Peeta crouched down next to me. "How's the wound?"
"You tell me," I gulped.
He almost grinned, and I found myself straining toward the very possibility of
that grin.
Until he leaned back. "You blocked most of that sword."
"Most of it?"
"Most of it," he confirmed, then jerked his chin toward Thresh, who sat across
from us cutting up leaves. "Thresh gave you a salve for infection. It stopped
the bleeding, too."
I thought of yesterday, when I'd noticed the quiet young man grinding something
into a mortar. "Thank you," I said to him.
He inclined his head toward me and resumed his work.
"My sister is fascinated by healing herbs," I said. "You'd be her hero."
His features sagged in amusement, color popping into his dark cheeks.
"You're a very dumb girl," Peeta declared.
"I second that," Johanna said from her corner of the camp.
"You're welcome," I said.
Again, that almost-smile. So boyish. So endearing. Composed of a thousand
things, the sorts of things people appreciated about the world. Like child's-
play and dessert and horizons and holidays and song and folktales and
friendship and inventions and quiet evenings.
I must have taken a terrible blow to the head.
"I won't forget what you did," Peeta murmured.
"Good."
Finnick chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. "I like her."
"What about the rest of you?" Peeta asked, still staring at me.
Johanna and Gale crossed their arms and shrugged.
"A trial," Thresh said, concentrating on the fragments of leaves that he
dropped into a bowl on his lap.
"A trial basis," Peeta echoed. His expression caused a whirlpool of foreign
sensations in my stomach. I didn't care for them one bit. "You touch a weapon
without my say, or go anywhere without one of us, and I'll hang you in a net
twenty feet off the ground."
All business. I was more comfortable with that. Still, I couldn't help teasing
just to see what his reaction would be.
"Will you still feed me bread?" I asked.
His lips twitched. "Now tell us all about that shipment Snow's expecting."
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Katniss
The next days passed swiftly, but not without their share of discoveries.
Johanna let me borrow some of her clothes, offering me a pair of boots that she
proudly announced she'd stolen and a tunic that was loose enough to conceal my
breasts. The garment stopped shifting once I tied a leather belt around my
waist.
The more complicated part of the ensemble were the breeches. My fondness for
wearing men's pants was immediate. I relished the comfort of the timeworn
garment, the freedom of moving without restriction, without layers of heavy
skirts. I also seethed with jealousy that fate permitted men to dress like this
every day.
However, leaving the tent was another matter. The breeches outlined my hips and
legs to a mortifying degree. I refused to come out of Johanna's tent until
Finnick lost patience and carried me out to the cheers and whistles of the rest
of the group.
Peeta stopped clapping when he got a good look at my outfit. The expression on
his face filled me with agitation, delight, fear. Deciding what feeling
mattered most proved too daunting a task, so I let them fuse together.
Outwardly, I did what I do best. I pretended not to care what he thought.
The following day, we rose at dawn to distribute the loot Peeta's band had
collected, including my ring. I journeyed with them to the village, concealing
myself in the bushes and watching as Peeta moved deftly from house to house,
flinging palm-sized sacks of coins and jewels toward the front door of every
cottage. It took hours, but the gleam of joy and gratitude on people's faces
tapped into my heart, confirming an unfortunate truth. Peeta and his gang were
good. They went about their business unlawfully, but their intentions were
pure.
Betraying them would require betraying these cottagers. Imprisoning Peeta
Mellark and his band would strip them of a necessary source of survival. Could
I go through with it? What would Snow do to Peeta once he was locked in a cell?
The very thought of that boyish face battered and bruised and broken terrorized
me in a way nothing ever had before. Could I tell them the truth? We might be
able to to hatch an alternative plan to overthrow the monarchy...but what about
my sister? My family?
Snow already knew that Peeta had me. If we rebelled, the king would conclude I
had something to do with it. He expected us to breach the palace, which meant
we wouldn't have the element of surprise. And if we failed, my family and The
Seam would suffer. Prim. My father. Rue. The Saes, who made me lamb stew
whenever I was sick and taught me how to sing. The Undersees, who always found
a way to organize celebrations even in the grimmest of times. Sheriff
Abernathy, who talked sense into me whenever I needed it and let Prim play with
his geese after our mother had left. Thom, who helped build The Seams' market
square and commissioned a Christmas play for the children every year. My list
was endless.
The king would punish them all. Too many lives that I cared about were at risk.
I couldn't gamble their future. Peeta's gang of thieves were decent people, but
they were also strangers.
I had to choose. My home over his.
I despised myself. I kept moving forward, hoping not to get attached but
finding that more and more difficult.
Each person in Peeta's group possessed a tent wide enough for a sleeping cot, a
container of personal items, a water basin, and a supply of candles. I couldn't
help musing that their camp had taken time to build, and it was hardly mobile.
Not at all suitable for a quick getaway. They'd become used to being hidden.
Perhaps they didn't expect anyone to ever find them.
Johanna grudgingly let me share her cot, but she tossed and turned worse than
Prim. She also talked in her sleep, puffing out Gale's name more than once. I
didn't know how to interpret that.
Until I saw them kissing. It was my fourth morning with them. I was passing by
when it happened, carrying wood that I'd helped Thresh gather. Johanna and Gale
had been fighting over whose turn it was to feed the horses, lashing out insult
after insult while Finnick kept score as though it was a jousting match.
Out of nowhere, Johanna stopped, fist on her hips. She pinned Gale with a smirk
while his mouth wreathed into an angry smile. They stared at each other with a
hostile playfulness that puzzled me to the ends of the earth.
"Get over here," he said.
They collided like beasts in heat, arms tangling, lips locking. I dropped the
firewood.
Finnick groaned. "It's about time. They've never held out this long."
I resisted the childish urge to point. "They...they, um...they're..."
"Oh, and how," he said, staring at the couple as openly as I was. "They bicker
until they're sufficiently aroused, and then we don't see them for hours."
Prudence told me that I should look away, but I couldn't. I'd never witnessed
such an intimate moment between a man and a woman. I'd also never been kissed.
Watching them peaked my curiosity, entranced me, stimulated parts of me that I
didn't know existed.
It made me think of someone else. Someone I shouldn't be thinking about.
Someone who chose that instant to exit his tent, bow and arrow in hand.
Noticing the passionate moment between his friends, Peeta's eyes found mine,
catching me in a moment of unguarded, greedy fascination. I felt like I'd been
spying. I felt embarrassed. I felt hungry. I turned away, afraid my thoughts
were written all over my face.
Finnick elbowed me. "No need to act coy. Are you that pure?"
What to say. "I...I..."
"Looks like fun, doesn't it?" he purred. "Want to try it?"
"She's coming with me," Peeta interjected, striding away and expecting me to
follow him.
The arrogant gesture nettled me and replaced the warmth I'd been feeling a
second ago. All the same, I tailed him into the woods. I kept my distance from
him, schooling myself not to stare too hard at his body as it moved through the
trees. His cape flapped in the wind, making me think of light, feathery
touches.
He was so fixated on the path ahead of us that I wondered if he forgot he
wasn't alone. Silent and dexterous, he hopped onto a log that extended over a
lake. I climbed up behind him, feeling about as graceful as a fork. Together,
we shuffled across the narrow beam and halted at the halfway point, where Peeta
knelt. My treacherous gaze traveled to his thigh muscles beneath the thin cloth
of his pants, rekindling that feral desire I felt earlier.
"Come here," he murmured, indicating for me to perch in front of him.
I maneuvered to the spot he'd specified, grateful that I didn't have to look at
him anymore.
And then we waited. I endured fifteen minutes of silence before I couldn't take
it anymore. "What are we doing?"
"The first thing you need to know about hunting is this: Be quiet."
Hunting? I surprised myself by getting excited, clamping my lips shut like a
good student. The thought of being useful delighted me. No man, not even my
father, would have let me perform an unrefined, male-dominated activity. I
craned my neck, scanning the woods with the same enthusiasm I remembered having
as a little girl when Rue and I used to play hide-and-seek.
Yet I felt an unmistakable tension between this boy and myself. It swelled into
a physical thing I could practically reach out and touch. I failed to
understand the unfamiliar sensations he awoke in me, the newness of them, the
doubts and insecurities and anticipation they stirred up. They thrilled me.
They scared me.
Above us, a twig snapped. I shifted and froze as Peeta's arm slid across my
collarbone from behind. He pressed a finger to my lips. Then he used that same
finger to point toward a meadow on the other side of the lake.
A doe. Beautiful. Proud. Delicate. Its body moved like a mechanical apparatus,
its snout rising to smell the air, its fur slick and glossy.
Peeta crept closer to me and positioned the bow and arrow in my grasp, careful
not to put pressure on my wounded arm. He situated my quaking fingers in the
right spot, pausing briefly to curl one digit against mine. Was it a message or
an innocent gesture? His body encased mine like a pearl tucked into a shell. It
was all I could do not to let my head fall back against him.
"Relax you shoulders," Peeta whispered.
I did.
"Follow the line of the arrow."
I did.
"Pretend it's an extension of your arm."
I did.
His lips parted, expelling a breath against my nape. My own mouth fell open,
wanting to capture that breath and swallow it, swallow a piece of him. The buds
of my toes curled.
His voice dipped lower, barely audible. "And...release."
The arrow soared.
It hit.
The thud of the animal's body sent a cluster of birds scattering from their
branches. Peeta turned to me and grinned. "Not terrible."
Another feeling swept through me. Pride. It made me ponder what else I was
capable of, what talents I could master if I let myself try. Out here, I didn't
have to limit myself to the rules of the sexes. I didn't have to occupy my days
with the mechanics of curtsying or needlepoint. I could be someone different,
someone wild, someone stronger.
Ever since my father had placed me on the marriage market, I lost myself. My
world was reduced to a humdrum routine of mindless courtship and soulless
endeavors such as learning to bat my eyelashes and listening to Effie preach
about swaying my hips to catch a man's eye.
Peeta Mellark had just brought me back to life, reminded me that the future
could still hold promise and discovery. I would always owe him for this moment.
I craned my head up at him. "Thank you."
A long look smoldered between us. Our faces were so close. Peeta cleared his
throat.
On our way home, he carried the doe over the bridge of his shoulder while
unbidden thoughts plowed through my mind. I became jealous of that animal for
capturing so much of his attention. I wanted him to track me the same way. I
wanted him to catch me.
I fretted over my sanity. This boy may be honorable, but I had to label him as
the enemy. Anything less would threaten The Seam.
We feasted that evening. As my teeth tore through a piece of meat, a droplet of
grease oozed down my chin. I chuckled as Finnick swiped at it with his thumb,
wiggling his eyebrows at me.
My mirth deflated just as soon as it had come. I wished I could just detest
them all. Every second in this camp pulled me in two directions.
The sun set. Gale retrieved his lute and flicked his fingers against the
strings.
"Will you sing for us?" Thresh asked.
It took me a second before I realized he'd singled me out. The request
astounded me, not only because I hadn't expected it, but also because it came
from Thresh. He didn't make the effort to speak unless he had something
important to say.
"Yes." Finnick slapped his thigh. "Please, m'lady. Quench our thirst for
merriment and entertain us with a tune. I need to see how your mouth moves when
you do that."
I shifted on my seat. "I haven't sang in ages."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Peeta concentrating on his meal, chewing with
a tightly closed mouth. What ruminations galloped through his mind as he ate?
What did he fear most? What was his favorite color? Did he like music?
"Very well," I said. "What's your pleasure?"
"Maybe something from your home," Thresh said.
That was easy. "I saw a meadow today," I prefaced, wondering if Peeta knew I
was referring to our hunting trip. "There's a song in The Seam about one.
Gale?"
Gale began to play, the sinewy melody vibrating like crisp leaves skipping
across the ground. The tune triggered something in me. I longed to indulge the
group and give them the brightest rendition possible. I put my entire body into
it, retracing my steps to my childhood, when I'd first learned the words.
Deep in the meadow, under the willow...
Peeta's head snapped up. My lids shuttered closed so that I wouldn't look upon
him.
A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray...
I missed home. I missed my sister.
Forget your woes...
I missed the feel of that bow and arrow. Already, I missed hunting with him.
Here is the place where I love you...
When the last note slipped from me, I opened my eyes. Silence greeted me. Gale
balanced the instrument on his lap and grinned. "I've missed that song."
"Well," Johanna said, trying to mask her regard. "That wasn't annoying."
They clapped, and Thresh thanked me, and Peeta...
Peeta stared at me in a manner I didn't understand.
Thresh was the first to retire. And then Johanna and Gale, still basking in the
glow of their lovers' display from that morning. Peeta followed soon after,
heading toward his tent without giving Finnick or me a passing glance.
Disappointed, I focused on Finnick with renewed determination. I couldn't lie
to myself. I enjoyed flirting with him. It felt harmless enough, and I was
desperate to connect to someone, to quell my loneliness. Our conversation
veered toward the subject of love.
"You know, my lady, if you're nervous about your wedding night, I can help
prepare you," he hinted.
I refused to take the bait. Over time, his comments shocked me less and less.
"Are all of you boys this relentless with girls or is it just you?" I asked.
"What makes you so eager?"
I never anticipated he would take the question seriously. His features bent
under the weight of a mysterious sadness. "Pleasure is a very effective means
of avoidance."
Intrigued and concerned over Finnick's change of mood—had I offended him?—I
waited for an explanation. The fire from our meal crackled and flicked the air
like fingers reaching out for something they couldn't have.
"Once you've loved, you'll either be in constant bliss or recovery. I could be
in recovery, but I prefer bliss," he said, puzzling me even more with his
cryptic answer. He seemed to be musing to himself now. "Thresh simply hasn't
found a girl yet. Gale's found a girl, but he can't seem to hold onto her
longer than one night at a time. I had a girl but lost her. Her name was
Annie."
"What happened?" I probed.
"She lived by the ocean. She was the ocean, this girl who thrust herself toward
life, smelled like salt. You know how the tide can sneak up on you and get your
feet wet before you realize what's happened? That was Annie. She snuck up on
me." His tender laugh sounded as though it had been conceived amongst the
waves. "I was going to marry her, but she loved to swim a bit too much."
I gasped.
"The tide just took her. Just like that. I wasn't there."
"I'm sorry," I said, aware that it did him no good.
"I mean no offense, Lady Everdeen. I seek women out because if I don't keep
myself occupied, my body will continue to ache for the one person it will never
be near again."
His forthrightness stunned me. I couldn't produce an adequate or soothing
response.
"But in your case, I'm not trying to compromise you. And I don't think you're
seeking my attention," he went on. "I'm merely jesting because it's easy and
amusing, and I think you're letting me for the same reasons. And others." His
eyes roamed over to where Peeta had been sitting.
I felt myself blush. "I'm…I'm not trying to…I don't know what I'm doing."
"You're alone, living with strangers. You're a flesh and blood girl, and he's a
boy. It's natural, but there are greater things at stake."
"I know."
"No. I don't think you do. You and I—we may be toying with each other, but
Peeta is a different story." He considered his next words carefully. At what
point had we tripped into such a deep discussion?
"After Annie died, I left home, wandered around with no will, nothing to care
for. Then I met Peet and Gale and Thresh. They were lost souls, too. Peet's
mission to save the poor reminded me that no matter how much you lose, someone
else is always worse off, and you still have something left to give them, to
share if you search hard enough within yourself. Peet's exact words."
I didn't want another reason to like Peeta Mellark, but it was too late.
"He taught me there's always hope," Finnick said. "I just wish he would follow
his own advice…" He trailed off, reluctant.
I couldn't let him stop there, so I played dumb. "I'm not following you."
Finnick set his jaw. "Peeta had a girl once, too."
I sat up straighter. The heat from the fire seemed to increase.
"He may not act like it, but his heart is deep as a canyon and just as open.
Delly Cartwright sunk her claws into that heart pretty quickly. They grew up in
the same village somewhere up north. He devoted himself to her." Even in the
dark, I noticed how Finnick's face clouded. "Delly deceived him."
A battle erupted inside me. Remorse clashed with an unbridled bout of
protectiveness, which made no sense. I barely knew Peeta Mellark. Fate had
demanded that I should barely like him, because I was no better than this Delly
girl.
My emotions began a dangerous loop. The more Finnick spoke, the less I wanted
to hear, yet I became powerless to resist his tale.
"She pretended to love him publicly, but only to look desirable another," he
conveyed. "When that other person proposed, Delly cast Peeta aside. That was
around the same time both his parents died. He left home in the same manner I
did, with nothing holding him back. That was a year ago. He was sixteen."
Finnick turned to me in earnest. "I wouldn't betray this information to you
except…Lady Everdeen, Peet has had a hard time trusting people ever since
Delly. That's why it's phenomenal that he gave in and accepted you so quickly.
Forget about all the sense you made. His deal with you proved that he still
believes in honesty. He wants to trust again." He lanced me with a deadpan
expression. "Peet is my truest friend. Whoever he trusts, we all trust."
Did Finnick doubt my integrity? Did he suspect me? Or was I projecting this due
to my guilt? He'd been the first one to endorse me, after all.
Or maybe he was clever that way, employing his charm to get me to let my guard
down, then stabbing me with his warning. How shallow I'd considered his
character until now. How much I'd underestimated him. It wasn't unusual for him
to be looking after his own. It's what I would have done if an outsider had
nudged their way into my family's domain.
I swallowed , praying he couldn't see right through me. "I'm honored you're
giving me a chance."
He smiled, returning to his usual, smooth self. "There's nothing more alluring
than an honorable girl."
I bade him goodnight and went to bed, though sleep was impossible. At first, my
restlessness stemmed from the impact of Finnick's story. I was planning deceive
Peeta, just as Delly had. The only difference was Peeta wasn't in love with me,
nor I with him, but this fact didn't make me feel better. Neither did the image
of Prim's sweet, dependent face.
The second reason I couldn't rest had to do with the primal sounds Gale and
Johanna started making from inside his tent. Their moans cut through the camp.
I pinched my eyes closed, feeling like an intruder even though they weren't
being quiet about it, distressed because of the way my hips moved against the
blankets in response.
Was I the only one hearing this? And…what was it like? Did it hurt as much as
Effie had said—dear God, I still cringed at the memory of her sauntering into
my room, sitting Prim and I down and presuming to lecture us on the worth of
our innocence. She'd used a metaphor involving a sugar cube ("This is your
virtue") and hot water ("This is what happens to your virtue when you make
undignified choices. It dissolves.") that neither my sister nor I could take
seriously, much less comprehend.
Effie had then drawn a diagram—a diagram—illustrating what happened between a
man and a woman on their wedding night. After our chaperone left the room, Prim
and I buckled into laughter and fed the drawing to her pet goat down in the
carriage house.
Lying in my cot, something awful happened. I had a vision of Seneca above me,
claiming ownership of my body before I was ready. I'd been enduring nightmares
about him for days, but now those nightmares invaded my consciousness, too.
I recoiled, my fists bunched, and I twisted my face into my pillow. I needed to
escape, if only for a little while.
Remembering the lake Peeta had taken me to that morning, I swept off the covers
and reached for my breeches.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Peeta
The moans were driving him crazy. He envied Finnick and Thresh's talent for
snoozing right through the colorfully ripe sounds of sex that buzzed through
their camp. He also envied the good time his best friend was having. Not
because it was with Johanna, but because of the happiness it brought Gale. And
the fact that Johanna would never turn her back on Gale afterward, regardless
of how much they bumped heads. They were mad, literally, for one another.
It lifted Peeta's spirits as much as it broke him. Requited love wasn't a
luxury he'd had in a while. Or ever.
To this day, he couldn't say he regretted his fake romance with Delly. It may
have been a tryst for her, a ploy to win the heart of someone else, but it had
been real for Peeta. Looking back, her lack of affection for him was more
obvious now.
Although on one spring night, he' made her feel the same thing Gale was making
Johanna feel. Peeta had been play-chasing Delly in a field when it began to
rain and he sprained his ankle. She helped him into a cave nearby, and they
stayed there until morning, until it was dry enough for her to get help.
Sometime between him declaring he knew everything about her, and her uttering
the word "forever," she'd slid on top of him. The rest of the memory revolved
around the chirping sounds of her rapture. Beneath her, he'd joyously fallen
apart like a dandelion.
During the act, he pretended not to hear another boy's name on her lips. That
part Peeta couldn't forgive himself for.
At least Gale wouldn't suffer that fate. Peeta didn't want to begrudge his
friends' enjoyment, but he had spoken to Gale once before about keeping it
down. Being notorious required sleep.
Peeta wondered if Lady Everdeen could hear his friends panting and what she
thought of it. Then he began to wonder other things. What kind of noises her
spicy voice made when…never mind.
He scrutinized the canvas ceiling. That voice. Her singing had punched him in
the heart. He hated her for it.
She'd gotten friendly with Finnick over supper. In spite of Peeta's efforts not
to watch them laughing and humming with energy, he did nothing but gnaw on his
food and notice too many things about her. The bend of her slender knuckles.
The gaping and empty and very real space between her knees. The music of her
giggles, so unrehearsed and raw, as though happiness was a rarity in her life.
Peeta had listened to their banter until he grew too tired to put up with it.
And now this. If history was correct, Gale and Johanna's mating ritual wasn't
going to end any time soon. Escape was essential, if only for a little while.
Peeta needed to dunk himself head first into a frigid pool of water before his
hand crept any further down his stomach. It was one thing to fantasize about
random maidens. It was another thing to fondle himself to the tune of his own
friend's orgasm. He would not lower himself to that level.
He got out of bed and snatched his pants off the floor.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     Thank you to Chelzie, TomiStaccato, iLoVeRynMar, and Court81981 for
     your thoughtful PMs on this. You guys are the brightest
     constellation!
     Music: "The Secret Wedding" by James Horner.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Katniss
No one saw or heard me leave. I consulted my memory, using it as a guide to
take me through the woods, hedging only once at a bend. An owl hooted. The moon
popped from the sky, as pasty as King Snow's hair. For many, trying to find a
lake with only the moon as a light source was foolish. Yet the forest didn't
intimidate me. It was the one place I knew I would never get lost.
I recalled the path Peeta had taken me down and smiled when I found it. I
listened to the steady rhythm of my steps, calming me like a gulp of precious
mulled wine. Sometimes I wondered if darkness was more real than daylight.
Daylight tended to prune away the harsher truths of the world, magnifying
instead the illusion that life was simple and endurable if one kept faith.
But on nights like tonight, people had no choice but to confront who they
really were, what truly mattered, what hindered them. If one had the will to
face the dark, one really knew how to endure.
The darkness should have threatened me, but it didn't. It wasn't one of my
fears. I had plenty of others.
Losing my family. Their deaths being my fault. My fiancé. Fading into his
shadow. Never knowing who I was beyond him. Starvation, even though comparing
the quantity and quality of my meals couldn't match the hunger of other people,
those who existed without a Baron for a father.
Seeing my mother again someday, although she'd abandoned us, disgraced our
family long ago, and I harbored no secret desires for her return. She left my
father for a pauper. The man's status was inconsequential to me, but I would
not forgive her for severing Prim's fragile heart. I would not turn my back on
my sister like that. Ever.
And my father. He stared into space for months afterward. In this past year, he
began to return to us, trying every day to atone for the grievances he'd
inflicted on Prim and I.
In a way, wedding Seneca was safe. It would prevent me from growing so
vulnerable to love that I'd collapse if my husband ever left me. I would never
have to miss the sounds my companion made in the morning, or the special
touches he reserved for me, or the signs of an impending quarrel. A marriage of
convenience would prevent me from clinging, keep me from becoming my father.
Perhaps I'd been too quick to accept his apology. But he was my papa. Unlike my
mother, he'd come back to me. He taught me to swim.
Just as the recollection came, so did a view of the lake. A sheet of silver
that reminded me of a coin in Prim's knick knack collection, somber and blank.
I stood at the edge, content to stare for a while. A wall of rocks rose on the
opposite end of the bank.
The pool appeared to be deep. What would I find at the bottom?
Prim or Rue might make something up like a hidden city or mermaids or a prince
who'd drowned himself from a broken heart. I thought about practical things
like a lost knife or missing arrow. A tool to slit one's wrist.
I glanced away, annoyed as usual when my thoughts drifted toward death. I
wouldn't do it, leave Prim or Rue or Papa. Nevertheless, that didn't mean the
possibility didn't march across my mind occasionally.
For shame! My life wasn't so very bad. Seneca and his father may be monsters,
and I was slated to promise myself to the prince. I was liar, pledged to become
a glamorous whore and to obey someone else's rules, to adopt their morals, but
my life wasn't bad. My sister loved me, and I loved her. I had friends,
shelter, food. I had no right to envision giving up.
Finnick hadn't. Thresh hadn't. Gale hadn't. Johanna hadn't.
Peeta Mellark hadn't.
I pulled apart my side braid, shaking out the long tresses. Holding up my hair,
I let the breeze beat against my neck and the pearls of sweat that had gathered
there. I thought of Gale and Johanna's anger, the main ingredient of their
passion. I remembered their sounds, the changes it had ignited in the lower
region of my body.
I sighed and pulled my tunic over my head, unwound the bandage on my arm, and
then dared look down at my reflection. Rarely did I inspect it with enthusiasm.
I didn't have a looking glass in my room for this very reason. Admiring oneself
was vain.
Who knew why the sight of my person captured my interest now. I stared at my
breasts, how they peeked out of my chest, small and pliant as dough, pursing in
the center, stretching out as though asking for something. What in the world
did men see in them?
I pulled off my boots, feeling spontaneously ceremonious about shedding my
garments. I'd never been naked out of doors before. No need to rush. There
weren't many firsts in my future that I could look forward to.
Undoing my breeches, I slid them down and used my toe to fling them aside. Clad
only in my ivory underpinnings, I turned from side to side, quizzical, critical
as I studied myself against the lake's surface.
I revealed myself fully, pushing the last remaining cloth over my thighs and
dropping it to the grass. Pressing my palms against my lower back, I deduced
how little curves I had, how the night turned my skin gray. Mine was a
practical figure and would have to suffice for Seneca. Soon, all of what I saw
within the pool would be his.
I waded into the water, gasping at the cold that pinched my toes, then my
knees, then my hips. A thwack of leaves came from behind. Crossing my arms over
my chest, I whipped around and scanned the woods.
Nothing. No one.
I shook myself, but I hurried the rest of the way into the lake until I was
submerged. For a while, I stood there shivering, needing to be certain I was
alone. After a few hectic moments, I relaxed again. I fell backward and floated
like a lily pad, letting the moon's rays coat me. Once I began to move, getting
used to the temperature took no time.
I dove under, my hair swirling around like vines, my mouth blowing bubbles.
Maybe this was how birds felt. Maybe this was as close to flight as one would
ever get. I came up for air, restraining my sudden urge to laugh because this
felt so good. The feeling was mine and mine alone. This lake was mine.
I thought it was. But then I heard a distant plop. The surface rippled, and it
was hard to decipher if it had been me, or an animal, or something else. The
silence that followed felt suspect. It had to be some nocturnal creature
mistaking me for prey.
I reminded myself that I wasn't afraid of the dark. I swam
backward...back...back.
Someone's back.
Someone's slick back.
Someone's slick back against mine.
My scream hit the tree tops. I veered around, thrashing wildly and flopping
like a hooked fish.
"Would. You. Stop. Splashing. Me?" a boy's voice snapped.
I wiped the water from my eyes and discovered a set of blue irises fastening
onto me. Peeta Mellark. What was he doing here?
"What are you doing here?" we hissed at the same time.
He bobbed a few feet away, staring at me like I was either a ghost or a
madwoman. He was soaked from my onslaught. His nose dripped. His sodden blond
hair was darker than normal. His shoulders...
His shoulders. A mountain of bare skin peeked out from the surface. What was he
wearing beneath the water? What was he not wearing? Why did he not seem
bothered by the fact that we were naked and in close proximity to one another?
A mortifying possibility sneaked into my mind. "Wh-what did you see?" I
demanded, wanting to cover myself even though the lake did a considerable job.
"Were you watching me?"
"Watching you do what? Swim? I didn't know you were here. I told you not to
leave the camp without one of us."
I felt defensive. "I do not require a leash."
"I'm beginning to doubt that," he said, panting from having to swim in place.
"I couldn't sleep." It did not matter that my tone was steady. My skin prickled
with warmth, and my cheeks blazed, offering a more detailed answer than I could
have provided verbally.
Peeta was quiet. "Neither could I," he said finally, the weight of his voice
surprising me.
He sounded thoughtful. Aware. Far too aware of what I meant.
He heard Gale and Johanna, too.
Around us, the leaves sprouting from the alders and oaks brushed like lovers.
What had this shift in my life's course done to my presence of mind?
"In any case," Peeta said, sobering and giving me a territorial look. "This is
my lake."
"No, it's not. It's mine. I was here first."
"You wouldn't know about this place if I hadn't brought you here."
"You're right. Thank you for that," I said politely. "Are you getting tired?"
"No," he snapped.
"You appear to be getting winded, Mr. Mellark—"
"I swear to God. It's Peeta."
"Well, it's Lady Everdeen to the likes of you. Would you like to go to the
shallow end? It's much easier on beginners."
"I can swim, thank you."
I pursed my lips. "My suggestion was in earnest. I don't want you drowning on
my account. You're too heavy to rescue."
He laughed suddenly, and the sound shook me to the core. He was infuriating and
far too fetching for his own good.
"Fancy yourself an expert, Lady Everdeen? Care to truly find out who owns this
lake?"
I knew a challenge when I heard it. I turned away, lampooned by my state of
undress and mad because he tempted me, probed that side of me that longed to
play.
"Race me," he said.
"No."
"Do you see that rock formation across the lake?"
"No."
"I'll count to three."
"No."
"One, two—"
I cut him off, slicing through the water the way my father showed me how,
careful not to expose myself. I made it to the stone wall, which turned out to
be a shallow portion of the lake. When my feet hit the muddy floor, I glanced
around, triumphant.
My jaw dropped when I saw him already there, grinning like court jester. "How…"
I trailed off.
"I guess we know who the real victor is."
I scowled. I slapped the water, drenching him once more.
Peeta tsked. "Poor sport."
"You cheated!"
He splashed me back. I retaliated. He snapped his fingers against the surface,
sending a miniature gust of water at me. He made a funny face.
But this wasn't funny. This wasn't proper. This was a breach in civility and
dignity. This was deviance. This was scandal. If anyone saw us, I could be
ruined. I should not have come here. We were indecent and by ourselves
and...why was he smirking? This wasn't funny. It wasn't!
My smile betrayed me. I sucked my lips between my teeth to stop it.
Peeta's bright eyes flashed, renewed with energy. He crossed them comically. A
wanton giggle tumbled out of me.
He grinned. I hesitated. We paused.
We played. We pitched wave after wave of water at each other to the point where
I could barely see in front of me, unaware of how close we'd gotten until his
hand whacked my arm.
I reeled back. What were we doing? How was it that things happened so fast and
so effortlessly with him?
I opened my mouth to speak. He stood, half of his body rising from the water.
My tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and I may as well have perished
right there. Peeta was golden and glorious, his broad shoulders and chest
tapering toward a bank of muscles just above…above the…above…
"We should get back," I croaked.
Peeta's smile faded. He tilted his head and scrutinized me. "Don't you ever let
go?"
Disappointment, frustration, and sympathy contorted his features. I did not
care for his ability to read me so easily. And the last thing I required was
his pity.
"I was letting go until you got here," I complained, growing more than a trifle
heated by the sight of him. Another minute of this and I would get myself into
trouble.
"We were having fun," he grated, his voice rising.
"You're a pest."
"So are you. You're the one who wants to be amongst into our circle, so
unbutton yourself. Or was I right to be guarded?"
"I am not duplicitous," I said, horrified that my chin was quivering.
"Really? Because I can't see the real you. I thought I just did, but maybe I'm
wrong. It wouldn't be the first time I was—"
I flung myself at him, the impact sending us careening back into the water as I
crushed my lips against his. Peeta froze, arms extended out behind me. Not
until a few seconds into it did I realize he wasn't responding.
I lurched away, my hands covering my mouth. I couldn't even muster up an
apology. I wanted to die. I needed to go back to my tent this instant so I
could die in peace.
I barely got two feet away before he whipped me around. "Wait," he said.
"Peeta, I'm sorry. I'm not good with words. I—"
"That's alright. I don't need…" Something dawned on him. He released me. "You
said my name."
"Pardon?"
"You said my name." He inched closer, his eyes dropping to my lips. "Was that
your first kiss?"
How he was able to discern this so quickly was beyond me, but I didn't care.
The question hadn't been smeared in condescension. On the contrary, it was
attentive and gentle.
Hidden beneath the pool, my body quaked. "Did it seem like it was?"
Peeta nodded, content to dwell in the realm of uncomfortable silence. While I
squirmed and wrung my hands and sought a means of escape, he calmly considered
something.
What he said next terrified me. "Let me fix this."
I shook my head. "You can't."
"Let me try."
"The moment is over."
"It's not over until I kiss back."
I didn't deserve it. What did this boy see in me? What had I done to earn this?
The sound of crickets droned around us, creating an invisible ring. My heart
became a presence in every part of me, blotting out the rest of the world and
eclipsing my wish to flee. I could let this happen, whatever this was.
Or perhaps I had no choice at this point. Not when I caught that strange aroma
of cinnamon that followed him wherever he went. Not when combined with the
heady, earthy scents of a slumbering woodland. Not with such an eager face
daring me to stop him.
"You're thinking too much," he murmured. His palms found their way to my face,
cupping the sides, thumbs brushing my cheeks. He brought my head nearer to his,
nearer still. How close before something happened?
"And you're nervous," he said, watching me intently. He smiled, as if to say
there's nothing wrong with that, and it seduced me. I suffered from his
tenderness, near tears from the anticipation and relief and excitement and
fear.
"A real kiss doesn't happen merely with mouths," he said, his fingers outlining
my lips, studying them as they trembled. "We kiss with our whole bodies. Our
hands and limbs. Our minds. Our..."
Our hearts, I thought.
I leaned into his touch, wanting more, but he pulled back and said, "Lick your
lips."
When I did, bowing them into my mouth to hide this action, he shook his head.
"Show me," he coaxed. "Let me see."
I tried to think of this in terms of his hunting lesson. He knew what to do,
and inexplicably I wanted to learn, and his instruction would be thorough, and
I needed to be brave. And to not swoon.
My free tongue roamed over my mouth. Peeta exhaled shakily. "Good."
He skimmed my cheek, then kissed me there, chaste and saying, "Lightly." Then
he ventured to the corner of my lips, increasing the pressure, lavishing me
with small kisses. My eyelids threatened to fall shut.
"Linger," he whispered, flicking the tip of his tongue against my skin.
Forbidden urges intersected and flourished within me. In desperation, my head
swerved to catch his lips, but he moved back.
"Now open your mouth," he commanded, and I didn't waver, and he traced my shape
with his velvety tongue, and I died a hundred deaths and came back to life.
Again, he evaded me. "Your turn. Do that to me."
I charted the half-moon of his lower lip, the crook of his upper lip, the
crease, the edges where they met. Hissing, he broke our connection and growled,
"Give me your tongue."
While our lips brushed, I offered it to him, which he grazed with his own,
teasing, endlessly frustrating.
"Just like that. Only longer." He demonstrated behind my ear. "Wider." Another
kiss, now more pronounced. "Deeper." Another one, this time using every
shameless mechanism.
Peeta trapped me with his blue gaze. "I'm going to kiss you fully now, my
lady."
I could only nod.
"Breathe," he whispered against my mouth.
And then those warm lips claimed mine. It was neither gentle nor wild. It was
just right.
I dissolved against his body, braiding my arms around his shoulders, my
cooperation eliciting a moan from him. Our mouths stirred. They pushed and
retreated. His hands traveled through my hair, securing my head into place as
he deepened the kiss, prying my lips apart. When his tongue slipped inside and
began its languid stroking, I became a girl on fire. The heat of it dislodged a
sigh from my throat.
Without hesitation, Peeta clutched my hip with one hand, used his other to
support my back, and drew me up out of the water. He crushed me to him. The
sensation of our bare, wet chests pinned against each other made me ache in
indescribable ways.
Gasps escaped us each time we pulled apart in order to kiss from a different
angle. My thoughts fogged. They narrowed to the strength of his mouth, the
rhythm of his tongue, the pressure of his teeth sinking into my bottom lip.
Everything he did communicated with a spot below my navel, without my control.
Between my legs, my body fluttered, aching for him.
Years later, we broke apart. My vision lacked focus beyond anything but him.
His eyes grew darker than I'd ever seen them.
We stared at one another, awed by the sheer abruptness of this moment, faced
with the choice of whether to cease or continue. We'd known one another a scant
four days. The life of delicate breeding and morals that I'd been harnessed
within were instantly sucked up like debris in a windstorm. I was naked and in
the arms of a boy.
Heaven almighty, I did not want to stop.
We did not possess the faculty to speak, but the decision was made. Holding my
gaze, his hands hooked beneath my knees and lifted, tipped my body further out
of the water, exposing me completely.
And I should have been embarrassed. And I should have stopped him. And I
ignored all that because I wanted this, something real just once. So instead I
wrapped my legs around his waist, linked my feet at the small of his back, and
arched against him.
Do what you want with me. Please.
He groaned and accepted my silent offer. My head fell back, straining for his
touch as he trailed kisses along my throat, down to the shallow dip between my
collarbone. He licked the area slowly before drawing the skin into his mouth.
Never had I envisioned the spell lips and hands could cast until now.
Reaching my breasts, he paused. His mouth hovered above the right one, his hot
breath beating against the sensitive skin. I pressed myself into him, allowing
him. He fastened his soft lips against the bud and sucked. My mouth gaped, legs
squeezed him tighter and tighter with each flick of his tongue. My body adopted
its own will, skin flaring, muscles twitching, fingertips digging into his
hair.
A heavy sound of appreciation rumbled from his chest. He shifted from one
breast to the other, outlining their shape with his kisses before seizing the
nipple again. I mumbled and whimpered and said things I was certain I wouldn't
remember.
He raised his head and dropped a whisper into my ear. "Hold onto me, Katniss."
Katniss. That was my name.
I did as he said, entrapping him with my legs and clasping his shoulder blades.
The lake swirled around us and he carried me to the rock formation and
maneuvered us into a cave-like passage, the roof barely high enough for him to
stand beneath. Droplets fell from above and sprinkled into the pool. We tucked
ourselves into a secret cove, the water reflecting a bit of the moon, the walls
shimmering around us.
Peeta set me onto a ledge jutting from the wall. My legs dangled in the water,
the rest of me available to him as he positioned himself between my thighs. He
swiped the hair off my forehead.
I whispered, "I do not know you."
He whispered, "And I don't know you."
But I want you.
So be it. He continued to devour my memory, claiming my sigh with another kiss.
Even as his lips mapped a trail down the center of my body, I did not
understand what he was doing. Awareness of my nudity resided in the outer
fringes of my mind, but the anticipation of what he planned for us throttled my
self-consciousness. For he looked at me like I was beautiful. I felt that look
in the backs of my knees, which he secured in his hands and lifted until my
feet settled on his shoulders, forcing me to lean back on my flattened palms.
I became fascinated by our shadows glazed within the rock walls. He lowered
himself further into the water, until only his head and his shoulders bridging
my heels floated before me, his attention dedicated to the hollow between my
legs. I flushed. My toes flinched and relaxed as he mumbled reassurances and
caressed my calves.
And then his head disappeared. And my own head tilted of its own volition, the
final crumb of my sensibility gone as his fingers spread my delicate area and
his tongue descended upon me, flattening over the damp center and traveling
upward, over the curve of me, stoking it like a flame, and then beginning all
over again.
When he located a kernel of nerves I had not known I possessed, it stirred from
me a fresh batch of moans that clamored with the sounds of water dripping from
overhead. He circled the crest of nerves and then faintly dabbed its peak, no
lighter than a feather.
He repeated this pattern.
Repeated the torture.
Repeated it.
His lips latched onto that kernel and consumed it, draining it like moisture
from a sponge, not letting go. His mouth and harsh Mmm engulfed the very core
of me.
That's when he began to bob his head. My arms gave out, my back sagged onto the
ledge as I gripped its rim and rolled from side to side, and yes, and this, and
him, and him...him...him...
I hollered, the reverberation like an avalanche echoing inside this tiny cove.
I nearly tipped over into the water, my feet pressing hard into him, limbs
quivering, overwhelmed, weakened, and finally still, so very still, and how was
this possible? How was it possible to produce such sweetness?
Peeta nestled me up into his arms. We held each other, bewitched but stunned,
pleased but stunned, eager but stunned. We waited a long time, long enough for
me to calm down and realize how cold the ledge was. We spoke over each others'
shoulders.
"I liked that so much," I whimpered.
"As did I," he said.
"Is that what lovers do?"
"That and more."
I let my silence indicate my wishes. Instead of being satisfied, my greed
increased. His as well, because after a moment's deliberation, he slid me off
the ledge. We emerged from the cave, where he pressed me flush against a smooth
wall.
I buried my face in his neck. He nudged my thighs apart, then his finger
explored me. It slipped passed my soft barriers, shooting upward into my body,
creating a new kind of heat that had me seeing double. A new type of rapture,
from a new angle, and from a new source.
I gasped in shock against his mouth. "Oh...oh my..."
"God," he finished huskily.
He withdrew from me, only to reconnect once more. It was strange, dizzying, but
I welcomed the intrusion. The friction brought waves of sensation tearing
through my center. They burned in a way that made me inconsolable with
pleasure. I wanted to keep his finger inside me all night, until he became a
part of me, or until I was certain I would be able to recall this bliss with
absolute clarity in the future, so that I might reenact it in the privacy of my
chamber.
Our lips brushed. His hand and my hips rose and fell in unison, gently slapping
against the water. We panted, as if wounded by what was happening.
A second finger joined the first. I let him know how it felt with my voice. My
voice that I no longer recognized. It unleashed and soared above our heads.
"Yes. Sing for me," he hummed.
His free arm supported me beneath my backside. His abdomen began to thump
against me and increased the force of our movements, the cadence of it
unwinding a knot inside my body. Yet I felt myself clenching as his strokes
became quicker. They curled at the ends, beckoning me closer, closer to
release, just a bit further.
I shattered once more. I sang and sang and sang. And then I went limp.
As I struggled to regain my senses, I doubted I would get closer to another
than this, so unexpectedly, so rapidly, with the last person I would have ever
have guessed. Peeta was mine. I was his. The rest of my days would not compare.
I wished I could freeze this moment and live in it forever.
Once our breathing slowed, I started crying.
Yet again, I caught Peeta off guard. He tensed. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," I sobbed.
Still suspended against the rocks, I hugged him. He rubbed my side, reminding
me how unused to being taken care of I'd become.
"Shhh, I'm here," he said. "I'm here."
I cried because he made me feel actually happy. I cried because I was going to
cause him pain. I cried because I had no freedom beyond this lake. I cried
because this was one night in which no one had expected anything from me.
I cried so hard. And Peeta let me.
And then he touched me again.
 
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Katniss
We dressed in silence. Peeta had already seen me—felt me—naked, but I hadn't
seen him, only the top portion of his body unshielded from the water. I kept my
back turned to offer him privacy.
He chuckled, but not in a pretentious way. We'd crossed a threshold and were
far beyond modesty now.
There was a different reason for my restraint. I still reeled from what he'd
done to me, how far I let him go, how much I revealed and discovered in his
arms. I'd wept. I gave him no explanation, although he hadn't asked for one,
giving me the space I needed. Embarrassment and confusion and uncertainty. I
felt all these things. Sweeter things, too.
The quiet continued as we navigated the path back to camp. I trained my gaze on
the ground, listening for the owl I'd passed earlier, wondering if it had found
its dinner.
Peeta laced our fingers together. I wanted to pull away. He had been easier to
deal with when I'd known only Rigid Peeta. This tamer, more yielding version
threatened me to a greater degree, gave me insight into the boy he might have
once been.
He's been hiding this from people. He's been performing for the world.
I knew the feeling.
One second, my impulse was to withdraw my hand. The next, I considered making a
joke, flicking his earlobe, playing some more. Just to see what kind of new
reaction I'd get out of him. I longed to test the boundaries.
I wanted to trap him against the nearest tree and sink to my knees and make him
feel the way he'd made me feel. It would be so easy holding him prisoner with
my mouth, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere. Listening to him whimper above
me, repaying him for his kindness, apologizing the only way I knew how.
My palm squeezed his, but he didn't squeeze back. In fact, the closer we got to
camp, the more his fingers withdrew from mine. At the fringes of the
encampment, his hand fell away completely, breeding a whole new pain. Finally,
we mustered the strength to look at each other.
He gave me a halfhearted smile. "Goodnight."
That was it? The boy with the bow was slipping from me already?
But what had I expected? That the closeness we'd shared at the lake would
continue from here on? His friends depended on him to make the right decisions,
including accepting me into their sphere. We'd done so much, yet we barely knew
each other. He'd misjudged a girl before and couldn't afford to complicate our
situation further by openly embracing me.
Did he want to embrace me at all? Or had I been a distraction from what he'd
lost? The possibility of that hurt, but I wasn't about to ask what our
interlude had meant to him. Also, I had to think farther ahead. Even if we were
to start something, it would not last.
He hesitated, then turned to leave.
"But…" My voice made him wheel back around. My pending nightmares about Seneca
and Snow the The Seam plagued me. "I don't want to be alone. Please. Just a
little longer."
Peeta looked past me. He stared out at the distance, lost to a memory. He
seemed troubled, but he gave in and guided me into my compartment. I asked if
going to his tent wouldn't be wiser since Johanna might walk in on us any
minute. She and Gale had apparently finished, but Peeta assured me that she
would stay with Gale until morning.
"I'll leave at dawn, but…only for tonight," Peeta cautioned.
We climbed into the pallet, he cradled me against his chest, and we watched the
shadows dance across our tangled legs. Still thinking of the lake, I could not
shake off the meddling image of him doing the same things with Delly. From
there, my mind evolved to worse thoughts, including whether he had chosen our
moment in the water to recuperate from her emotional assault on him. Secretly,
I compared myself to her and felt competitive.
It came out before I could stop it. "Have you ever been in love?"
Peeta stilled. Did I want him to confide in me? Did I want details? Did I want
him to lie?
"What did Finnick tell you?" he asked.
"Nothing," I fibbed.
Finnick trusted me not to tell. I would not dishonor that.
"Have you?" I repeated.
Peeta stared at the ceiling. "Once."
He wasn't about to elaborate. Did he avoid talking about her because it hurt
too much? Or because he wasn't comfortable telling me? Everyone else in his
group already knew the story, yet he was happy to leave me clueless.
He didn't seem interested in finding out if I'd ever been in love. Maybe he
already knew the answer.
We changed the subject, asking safer, more random questions. I told him about
my family. He told me about his parents, who'd died of typhus within months of
each other.
I liked green. He liked orange.
I learned to swim when I was six. He first picked up a bow when he was ten.
He liked to cook. I liked to eat.
"I like you," he confessed. "I think I liked you right away because when you
smiled at Gale that first night, it bothered me."
Smiling at Gale? Yes, but we'd just discovered we were both from The Seam. We
were merely being nice to each other.
"Johanna wasn't jealous," I pointed out.
"Johanna doesn't get jealous," Peeta said with a laugh. "She owns Gale and she
knows it. I wasn't worried about him. But you were—are—a mystery. You provoke
me. You provoke me so much. You're brave without realizing it. You work so hard
to restrain yourself because your emotions are so flammable and raw. I'd
forgotten what it was like to be awed by someone. So…I like you."
When I first met Peeta, I could have never foreseen how sweet he would be
underneath his coarse exterior. Delly must have taken that from him.
Henceforth, I dedicated myself to loathing her.
"Kiss me," I said.
With a soft moan, he twisted toward me and took my mouth. My fingers dragged
through his hair. This went on forever. Each time we tried to stop, we
couldn't.
I want you. I need you. I have you. I'll miss you.
"Katniss," he said against my lips.
"Peeta," I replied.
We laughed because this was our way of saying goodnight. As I sank against his
body, my fingers drifted to his hip and felt the corded Seam bracelet I gave
him hanging off his belt.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
By the time I woke up, my pallet was empty. The metallic gray light and
prickling call of crows outside suggested it was dawn. I rolled beneath the
woolen blanket, groggy and giddy and grief-stricken. Peeta and I had fallen
asleep late. He'd worn the bracelet I gave him—not around his wrist, but on his
hip. He was softening up to its meaning.
Of all people, Peeta Mellark owned my prized possession. Life was strange,
indeed. The knowledge that I'd found someone worthy of that token filled me
with incandescence. For all long as I could remember, I wondered whom I'd offer
the bracelet to, hoping I would make the right choice and that it would be
special.
I'd originally sacrificed it to Peeta under the pretense of loyalty, thinking
only of The Seam. Now, I couldn't imagine a better person than him to carry it.
I didn't regret last night. The lake, the rock wall, his mouth, his fingers.
Exploding in Peeta's embrace. Saying his name. Crying. I would not have that
ever again, certainly not with Seneca. I would use the memory to anchor me in
the future, on the evening I had to remove my wedding dress.
I tried not to think about when this was all over. What Peeta might do with my
bracelet, knowing that I was a traitor.
Would he have time to reflect on it? Or would Snow execute him quickly?
Of course, Snow would punish Peeta in the worst way. Him and all his friends.
Publicly. Rue had said the king wanted it to be a show. That must certainly
mean torture, and I would be forced to watch.
If I placed my pillow over my face, how hard would I have to press down in
order to suffocate?
I bit into the pillow and expelled a soundless scream. Here I was, glowing in
the aftermath of Peeta's lips, celebrating that he kept my bracelet close to
him, reassuring myself of my actions. When this whole time, my mind had pushed
aside the end result of all of this, which would involve his pain and a
barbaric amount of blood.
Conjuring up Seam faces reminded me of the importance of my task, but it did
little to ease the sorrow. I used Peeta last night. My conscience and foresight
had gone into hibernation from the moment moisture had inked between my legs. I
was a monster.
Perhaps I could find a way to get Snow and Seneca to spare Peeta. Perhaps with
time, I could find a solution. Perhaps I should kill Peeta myself, sneak into
his cell and poison him in his sleep, send him to his death gently and
comfortably. Then lie and say I was overcome with rage.
Too soon. Too early. Too much.
The tent flapped open and in shuffled Johanna. She dropped onto the cot beside
me, hard enough to make the entire pallet quake. I kept my face in the pillow,
hoping she'd leave.
"So how was he?" she asked.
My head shot up. "What?"
"Peeta. How was he?"
"I don't know—"
"Oh, rubbish on top of rubbish. I got up to pee last night and heard you
whispering. I'm not dumb. And I'm a girl, so I'm also not blind. You better
tell me how he was or I'll tell everyone else what you two are hiding."
"We're not hiding," I said miserably. "It was only…last night we talked."
"I did just mention I wasn't dumb, right? I can see it all over you. Your tits
have turned the color of raspberries."
I pulled the neckline of my tunic closed. "We're fond of each other, but that's
all. Peeta isn't committing himself to anything."
Johanna shrugged. "Can't say I blame him. Bedding you not five days into our
deal is a bad idea."
Commotion outside. I smelled the beginnings of a fire.
"Peeta's that rare breed of boy that doesn't think with his prick," Johanna
shocked me by saying. "Although I would have liked a detail. Can't say I'm not
curious how he uses it. So nothing happened? Well, that figures."
I'd never had a girl my age to talk to about intimacy. Prim was too young, and
when I breached the subject once with Rue, she hadn't been able to stop
giggling. Johanna wasn't an ideal candidate to gauge instruction from, but she
was honest.
"What's it like?" I dared.
"Ah-haaaa." Johanna sat up on her elbows. "You aren't a prude, after all. How
crass do you want me to get?"
I grunted and turned away from her. She poked me in the back.
"How much nothing did Peeta do to you last night?" she asked.
"Enough to want more, but it's over. I understand this."
Silence.
"If you keep up that strong will, I might get used to you," Johanna said.
"Don't expect me to compliment you often."
"I'd prefer if you didn't, so we're in accord."
"The first time hurts like hell."
"Oh."
"It really hurts like hell. Make sure he relaxes you, otherwise you might as
well be losing your virginity to a razor blade."
I was about to ask what Johanna meant by relaxing me, and whether the answer
paralleled the methods Peeta used last night, when Gale's baritone voice came
from outside. "Stand tall, stand tall, stand tall!"
Johanna rolled her eyes. "He only says that when it's time to tussle."
"To what?" I asked.
She pulled me off the cot. "Come on. It's a fantastic way to wake up."
When we exited the tent, instead of the sights and smells of breakfast, I
stumbled upon four shirtless torsos and columns of boy-male-man flesh.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Peeta
The boys were getting ready for hand-to-hand combat practice when Johanna
hauled Katniss out of the tent and pranced her toward them. Before last night,
he wagered she'd never seen a bare chest before, let alone four of them in
various capacities of strength and volume.
"Good morning, ladies," Finnick boasted, stretching his arms behind his back.
"Come to join the fray?"
Johanna rolled up her sleeves. "I took you last time. I can take you again."
The look of pure, unadulterated wonder on Katniss's face was priceless. Only
Peeta wished her attention would stick to him, not the others. He wondered how
he sized up against the rest of them, especially since size in general was a
problem for him. Gale, Finnick, and Thresh were tall and mythical-looking.
Peeta was not tall and didn't feel remotely mythical.
Finnick reacted to Katniss's blush the only way he knew how. He took advantage
and flexed his biceps, which seemed to alarm her more than anything.
That made Peeta feel better. The feeling increased when those gray eyes swayed
toward him, then cascaded down to his waist, sending a pinch of excitement
through him. She'd worn that same delectable expression on her face last night.
Last night. He'd meant for the kiss to be chaste, his willingness born out of
curiosity and the strange desire to be her first. But when her lips pressed
against his, his control had snapped. He yanked her out of the water before he
knew what he was doing. He tasted her mouth and between her legs. His finger
made her sing, and he loved every second of it.
She'd wept. Peeta still didn't know what that had been about, but discovering
how much his touch soothed her made him feel invincible. And confused. No one
had ever needed him that badly, and the moment she began to sob had sent him
into a panic. It was the kind of unspoken closeness he'd always wanted with
Delly.
His experience with Katniss had peeled away the layers, reminding him of the
old Peeta, the boy he was before Delly hijacked him. The boy who would have
stood on his head for weeks if the right girl had asked him to.
Yearning flashed across Katniss's face as she stared at Peeta. She wasn't very
good at hiding it. He would need to do something about that.
Peeta turned away. She had no idea the effect she could have. If he wasn't
careful, he was going to be forced to fight with an erection. He had to
concentrate or Gale would have him pinned to the ground in ten seconds.
Peeta channeled his desire into aggression and didn't face forward again until
he'd mastered a perfectly blank expression. Katniss frowned at him.
"The usual order?" Gale asked.
"Johanna wants Finnick," Peeta said. "We'll start there."
"I better win, then," Finnick said. "If Johanna makes it to Gale, it won't be
combat anymore. It'll be foreplay."
"Winner fights Thresh. Then Gale, then me, then Lady Everdeen." Peeta glanced
at her noncommittally. "If you want to be one of the guys, you'll have to learn
how to protect yourself."
Her eyes narrowed. His indifference after last night was upsetting her. Good.
The more pent up she got, the more energy she'd have.
"Fine," she said, crossing her arms.
"We'll teach you," he offered.
"Fine."
She was officially mad. He wanted to kiss her.
The first round went by quickly. Finnick didn't hold back on Johanna,
delivering blows that she'd learned to block. He caught her twice in the
stomach, but she was fast and succeeded in sidestepping him so often that he
ended up stumbling around like a drunken bear. It was over when Johanna
crackled her fist against his nose and Finnick cursed. He hated it when his
face got bruised.
Thresh was next. Johanna had yet to conquer him in a session. She hadn't
deciphered his weak spots thus far, and Thresh knew that rage was her handicap.
After failing to make contact with him once, Johanna belted out a frustrated
howl and lunged for him. Thresh cupped her forehead with his palm and held her
back while she threw punches at the air.
Thresh and Gale were equal in terms of strength and technique. Their fights
always lasted the longest. But like Johanna, Gale got angry too fast. It was
his downfall.
Peeta strode forward. If he didn't beat Thresh, Katniss would have to fight
him.
While the other boys had height on their side, Peeta had the sharpest reflexes,
enabling him to punch circles around them. It worked to his advantage. He
dodged Thresh's fist, spiraling behind and wrapping his arms around the boy's
waist, lifting and slamming him into the ground. Peeta wedged Thresh's face
into the dirt with his knee. Done.
He helped Thresh up and they shook hands and laughed. Then Peeta turned to
Katniss, who was standing in the corner, fuming.
"Come here," he said. "I won't bite. It's just a lesson for you. Let's see how
your instinct works."
"Maybe she should start off with Johanna," Gale suggested.
Johanna elbowed him. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean, cork brain?"
"Just that you're the same size."
"So what? Weakling against weakling?"
"Jesus, Jo."
Katniss shook her head. "I'll take Johanna."
"You'll take me," Peeta said.
"No. I'm—I don't want to."
"What do you mean you don't want to?" he demanded.
She was better than that. He'd seen the spark in her. The fierceness was there,
locked inside.
"I don't want to hurt you," she said, her words appearing to have a deeper,
unrelated meaning.
Unfortunately, this only succeeded in angering Peeta. He shoved her. She
stumbled backward and ground her teeth, stubborn but stimulated nonetheless.
He shoved her again. "Looks like you can't hurt me. Can't even take me. Can't
save anybody. Useless."
Come, Katniss. Hit me.
This time, when he pushed her, she pushed back. "I'll take you," she grumbled.
Finnick wiped his hands together. "Go nice and slow, Peet. Watch her arm."
"No," Peeta said, eye to eye with her. "An enemy won't care about that arm.
She'll learn how to fight with an injury."
She tipped her chin up at him. "I don't need favors," she snapped gorgeously.
He grinned, recalling her head flung back against the stone wall in the lake,
her chest heaving against his. "Then get up."
"What—"
He used his leg to swipe her feet out from under her. She landed on her
backside and rolled over, shaking her head in disorientation.
Peeta bent over her. "I said, get up."
She jumped to her feet. Peeta curled his fingers, beckoning her. Fury crippled
her features. She plowed toward him, but he evaded her fist, blocking the move
with his arm, spinning her around, and catching her in a headlock from behind.
"Think of taking a man off guard, m'lady," he spoke into her ear. "That's how
you bested Gale, remember?"
"Um, we don't need to bring that up," Gale grunted from the sideline.
"Taking your opponent off guard gives you the upper hand. Don't show your
emotions or they'll tap into your weaknesses quicker. Now, what do you have to
do to escape?" Peeta quizzed.
She struggled.
"Katniss, you're strong. Stop second guessing yourself," he instructed. "May I
call you Katniss?"
She bit his arm. He released her and she pivoted, pounding him in the side with
the toe of her boot. He puffed and staggered, but instead of seizing the
opportunity and punching him, she tried to flee. This unnerved Peeta beyond
measure. He'd hoped she would jab him in the ribs or go at him with her fists
again. She wouldn't always have the opportunity to retreat.
He seized both her legs and lifted, sending her barreling chest-first to the
floor, where he landed on top of her and spun her around, trapping her arms.
Their bodies beat against each other. So many things troubled him, including
her refusal to hit, which could get her killed.
"Done," he said. "Nice tr—"
A knife's edge pressed against his chin, tipping it up.
"Thank you," she breathed, steadying the blade.
The rest of the group let out a collective gasp.
Peeta swallowed. "Where did you get that?"
"While you were busy swapping partners, I took it from Thresh's bag and hid it
in my boot. Is this what you meant by surprising people?"
He peered at her. "Go ahead."
She flinched. "I beg your pardon?"
"We don't usually slice one another open, Peet," Finnick advised.
Peeta shushed him and enunciated the request once more. In spite of their lush
rendezvous in the lake, he wasn't about to favor or coddle her. She wouldn't
appreciate it anyway. He had no qualms about testing her, finding out how
daring she could be, how much faith she placed in his instruction. Although
she'd saved his life, he still needed to see if the opportunity to impair him
tempted or tormented her.
Her hand trembled.
"We're supposed to trust each other. That means, I trust you to follow. You
trust me to know what I'm doing," he said. "Now, do it."
With a guttural cry, she jerked the blade into his skin, succeeding only in
nicking him and drawing blood before he whacked the knife from her fingers. She
was panting, but she didn't look angry or flustered. She looked emboldened,
mesmerized, like she never thought she could go through with it. It elated
Peeta.
"Good girl," he said. "Though, you'll still have to learn to hit—"
Her fist connected with his cheek, whipping his head to the side. Finnick
whistled.
"Like that?" she asked.
Peeta massaged the wound. Not hard enough to knock a man out, but more than
he'd expected for her small frame. It was a promising first hit. He would be
sore later.
She reached out and stroked his cheek, then eased her thumb against the red
point she made in his chin, collecting a small droplet of blood. Her eyes
seemed to ask, What now? With those simple gestures, something inside him
cracked open with the force of a thunderbolt. And he knew he was in big,
beautiful trouble.
The gang started clapping while Peeta and Katniss stared at one another, their
aggression dissipating. He tried to picture how she'd been as a child learning
how to swim, the awareness of drowning if she got it wrong.
He helped her stand. Yes, she may have needed his comfort last night. But in
time, she could survive just fine without him.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
They played music and danced that night. Thresh bounced Johanna around the fire
pit, then captured Katniss and took her for a spin as well. Peeta couldn't keep
his eyes off her. During combat practice, something had released her. She spoke
and walked differently now, less burdened, like she might be able to conquer
the world.
Whatever had released her had unhinged him, too. He ran his fingers through his
hair. He was thirsty, parched, falling headfirst and couldn't stop it. He
realized he didn't want to.
"The stars are raining on us tonight," Finnick said.
"Do us a favor and try not to be a poet," Johanna mocked.
Everyone laughed except Katniss, who grinned sadly at Finnick.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he prompted. He always said this before
suggesting they go into the woods to stargaze.
Thresh rose without question. Gale had to coax Johanna to go—she wasn't the
stargazing kind. Normally, Peeta was keen on it. Tonight, however, he wanted
just one thing.
"I'm staying," he said.
Finnick shrugged. "Suit yourself." He offered Katniss a hand. "M'lady, the sky
is waiting for you."
"Oh, please," Johanna groaned.
Katniss hesitated, her attention skipping between Finnick's outstretched hand
and Peeta's slack one.
She took Finnick's hand. Peeta's shoulders sagged. It was a bad idea to be
alone together anyway.
His band left, the sounds of their chatter fading into the trees. He contented
himself to poke the fire for a while, thinking of Delly and Seneca, mentally
fusing their faces together. He used a stick to draw a picture of that mutant
countenance in the dirt. He was halfway done when he heard her.
He dropped the stick and stood. And there was Katniss, inching out of the
forest. And there they were, by themselves.
And he went back to wanting just one thing.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Katniss
There wasn't a movement he could make that I didn't relish, or fear, or feel in
the tips of my fingers. The mere act of him rising from his spot by the pit
caused things inside me to expand. The stillness stretching from his end of the
camp to mine made it clear we stood on a precipice. It was up to us whether we
jumped or not.
"You came back," Peeta said.
"I pretended I didn't feel well. I don't know if they believed me," I
responded.
Finnick had been in the middle of regaling us with a joke when more primal
instincts quickly washed over me. I hadn't gone far into the woods before
everyone's voices began to froth together in my head, making it difficult to
pay attention. Once the sensation cleared, a single word remained.
Peeta.
His name bounced from one end of my body to the other, and I had to turn
around. Now that I was here, I didn't know what to do. My palms moistened, and
I wiped them against my shirt. Peeta didn't help the matter by advancing on me.
I stepped back, but he kept coming forward. I wheeled around and began
gathering cups scattered on the ground, determined to keep my fingers busy.
His voice trailed me. "Why are you here, Katniss?"
"This place is a mess," I squeaked.
"Turn around."
"It wasn't fair to leave you to clean up."
"Forget the mess."
"There's still some meat left. Do you have a place to store it?"
"Stop," he said firmly.
I halted, almost dropping the cups when his chest brushed against my back. If I
moved away, he'd stop me physically, which would lead to dangerous things that
involved his lips, and my lips, and our lips.
Yet I did not stop him when his arm slid around me, his hand traveling down my
neck and over my collarbone, to my chest, hand halting at the neckline of my
tunic. I leaned against him, giving him permission. He pulled the crisscross
strings of my tunic, then slipped his fingers underneath the material, pressing
his palm against my heart. The fire popped, embers darting into the air.
"I never expected this," he whispered. "I'm in agony."
"What is happening to us?" I asked.
"I don't know."
I could have argued to myself that his face and lore had me spellbound, but I
wasn't foolish. It was more than that.
My predicament and its reducing timeline caused an uproar in my head,
influencing me to act rashly. But it was more than that.
I never behaved like myself in his company, letting him teach and touch and
taste me, cutting his chin, speaking without reservation, willing to expose
every drop of my thoughts, sharing my desires and confronting my fears. With
him, I met the girl I longed to be, brave and confident. He made me feel like
his equal. He made me feel safe.
It was more than that. This stranger, who was not a stranger at all, somehow
crept through the cracks in my heart. He made me cry, but he also made me
smile.
Slowly, I pivoted on my heel, my nails digging into the cups. Peeta stared down
at me curiously. "Why did you return?"
Because you called me here without uttering a word. Because, during our fight
today, you made me feel strong. You made me realize that I don't like being
pushed around. You made me realize that Snow doesn't have to win. You made me
want to earn your faith. I came back to tell you the truth, but your mouth is
distracting me.
"For you," I admitted.
Those eyes dimmed to an incomparable shade of blue. "What do you want?"
"You."
He smiled. "And?"
"You."
"I meant what else?"
"You."
Peeta slapped the cups from my hands. They landed and rolled across the dirt.
He hoisted me against him, crushing his mouth to mine while my arms scaled his
chest, hands twisting in his hair. I moaned into his kiss when I felt his
fingers dip into the front of my hose, tracing the slit down below.
He tore his lips away. "Can I have you?"
I nodded. Peeta slid his arm beneath my knees, swept me up like a bride, and
carried me across the camp. We glided through the entrance to his tent. The
glow from the fire bled into the space, making our figures pulsate, half-
illuminated, half-shadowed.
He set me down and whipped me around, pulled the neckline of my tunic past my
shoulder and dragged his lips across my skin. The back of my head lolled
against him. His mouth assaulted me with knowledgeable kisses that revealed his
experience to me like sunlight, and perhaps I would have been jealous to
realize I wasn't his first. But in this moment, I soaked up the warmth of this
discovery, because I knew he would make this memorable.
He yanked the tunic over my head and flung it to the side, focusing now on my
other shoulder, then behind my neck, circling his lips and tongue over the
nape. His fingers gripped my hips possessively, his breathing quick and hopeful
and, dared I imagine, tense. Giving the impression that this was new for him.
Those fingers ascended to the cloth covering my breasts and unwrapped the
binding, revealing me in pieces. The fleshy swells, the beauty marks, the dark
peaks. He sculpted them into his palms and resumed tasting my neck.
I sighed. Yes, this was new for him. Because it was with me.
I yearned to please him, to let him take my body and harmonize it with his, shy
as the thought made me. And so the words spilled out. "Peeta, make love to me."
He spun me back around and raked his hands into my hair. "I will."
His feverish kiss commanded me so that I felt the effects behind my ears, in my
nipples as well as my heart. There were so many reasons not to do this, but so
many desires banished those reasons and pushed us closer. We broke apart only
long enough for me to pull off his shirt. I craved the weight of those muscles,
eager for them to rest upon me, to move against me. I yearned to lay beneath
him and cling to his roving form, to lodge him within me.
Peeta urged us backward, still kissing me, until we fell together onto his
pallet. He eased off my hose, but I stopped him from removing his own breeches,
wanting to own and control his nakedness. Impatient, I hooked my fingers over
the waistband and thrust them down until I could no longer reach, kicking them
the rest of the way with my heel before they toppled to the floor.
In his presence, I beheld a man for the first time, and my pulse thumped wildly
at the sight. Blue eyes curtained with lust. The planes of his torso and
abdomen flushed pink. His center so firm and male, ready for me.
He grinned, knowing this was a novel encounter for a girl such as myself, and I
could tell the effect this had on him. His own primal gaze painted over me. The
apex of my thighs became pliant and wet, and he stiffened even more. He knew I
was a virgin. I knew he was not.
"You honor me, my lady," he said, his voice cracking at the end—that distinct
Peeta way of talking.
He crawled toward me and reunited his finger with my body, twirling the
moisture inside me and strumming the nerves, bringing my girlish fantasies to
life, hunting for my gasps. Preparing me, I realized as the pleasure braided
tightly in my lower back.
I was still moaning uncontrollably and writhing against him when he withdrew. I
made a noise of protest that, for some reason, caused his lips to twitch. He
kissed my hot temple.
"Soon," he said. "Very soon."
My thighs welcomed him as he secured himself between them, rewarding me finally
with the bliss of his chest against mine, crushing my breasts as he lined
himself up. He braced his weight on his forearms.
"Keep your eyes on me," he said.
We watched each other. Our mouths fell open as he eased inside me, filling me
little by little. He rounded his hips, sumptuously slow, laboring to stretch me
with each movement. I hiked up my knees, allowing him to grind deeper, turning
us into an extension of each other. His amorous pace became a very good ache.
Until the moment he flexed his hips, snapped them forward, and broke me. The
burn split me in two. I clenched my teeth.
Peeta stopped and kissed me, wiping the slate in my mind clean of pain, because
his kiss was my life. His mouth intoxicated me. It formed a ring around my
thoughts until nothing else existed but blue and the flapping of the tent's
canopy and the wandering orange light from the outside fire. And I was lost.
At one point, the world spun, but I did not pause, too locked within his kiss
to concern myself with the shift in atmosphere, whimpering as his tongue
scooped up my own and our bodies tilted into each other.
It wasn't until another spark flickered through me that I opened my eyes. I
realized that Peeta had rolled us over, positioning me on top of him. And that
he was moving inside me. And that he had been for a while.
It no longer hurt. Indeed, I felt the change, my wetness coating him, the way
he crushed me to him and slipped in and out of me. The position was easier,
enabling me to find my own comfort.
"Ride me," he said, urging me to sit up, which I did carefully, awed by the
power of seeing him there before me, hands splayed on my thighs, offering me
dominion.
Flattening my palms against his chest and using it for leverage, I tentatively
rocked back and forth. The upward pump of him, and his groan, and the sensation
these things produced all merged together into a cry from me. A cry that bred
many more.
"You slay me, Katniss," Peeta gasped. "Tell me I'll recover from you."
The way he looked up at me, vulnerable, pleading almost, sent shivers of
delight and desperation through my blood. I could not give him an answer. The
only way to be truthful about what this boy did to my consciousness was to make
him fly with me.
I feasted on him, swift and bold like something sprung from its cage. Peeta
forgot his request. Like allies in an endless race, we surged ahead, our groans
primitive and untamable. In my gluttony for more, I glanced down and watched us
collide in a dizzying rhythm, him disappearing and reappearing, the rise and
fall of our coupling.
"Yes," he breathed. "Watch us. Watch with me."
"I have never seen anything so..."
He nodded, understanding. And so we watched ourselves. I memorized him. The
bunching of his stomach muscles. The fine hairs on his forearms. The "ouch" he
released as I fell forward and bit his shoulder to keep from sobbing.
He flipped us over again. My open limbs caught his body. My arms wound around
his neck, and I yielded the power back to him, allowing him to cover me, his
passionate thrusts burying me into the blanket. He laced our fingers together
and raised himself higher. I chanted many things, his name and yes and please
as he jutted forward and pierced through my walls.
I watched him burst, and I joined him, and he closed his mouth over mine to
swallow our screams, sealing them between us like a promise.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
The next morning started out innocently. He cradled me from behind, nibbling
the back of my neck and rousing me from my sleep. It progressed to torture. My
eyes rolled to the back of my head and, with a sigh of defeat, I craned my face
over my shoulder, accepting his kiss. Unaware until the last second that he'd
used his knee to create a gap between my legs.
I started. "What—"
"This," he said, and then locked his body to mine, thrusting up and sheathing
himself in me. In that position, I buried my face in the pillow to stifle the
noise and sang for him over and over and over.
When I woke up the second time, he was smiling at me, wide awake and satisfied.
I would do anything for you.
The thought came without hindrance. It was the same reason I returned to the
camp last night. My family and home had always come first. Somehow, Peeta had
gotten in the way of that, steered me to a place where everything but him
became secondary. I made the decision to sacrifice whatever I had to, including
myself, to keep him safe.
Maybe I'd underestimated him. Maybe we could find a way to fix this. He'd been
outwitting Snow for a long time now. He was clever. Maybe there was a way to be
free of Seneca and still feed and protect The Seam. Maybe I'd have the chance
to put an arrow through Snow's heart—if indeed, he had one.
There was one solution: I had to tell Peeta.
But there was one problem: I had to tell Peeta.
"Hi," he said, staring down at me.
I sat up, securing the blanket to my chest. "Hi."
Peeta toyed with my earlobe and grinned like…well, like a boy. "I want to spend
the morning with you."
"I have to tell you something."
"I'll teach you archery—"
"We have to talk first."
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes," I answered without thinking.
"Give me a minute. We'll talk when I come back." He rubbed his nose against
mine, planted a brief kiss to my lips, and jumped from the pallet, grabbing his
pants. The sight of his naked form in broad daylight sucked the breath from me.
I hadn't seen much of the world, but there could not be anything sexier than
the slant of his hip bones. They pointed to the very center of him, the source
of last night's ecstasy. I would never get enough of him.
He noticed me staring and winked, shirtless and energetic and gifting me with
an intimate introduction to Peeta In the Morning. Then he disappeared from the
tent.
I panicked, wringing my hands so much that my fingers were in danger of falling
off. Grabbing his tunic off the floor, I pressed it to my nose, inhaling him,
praying he wasn't about to despise me. I draped the tunic over me. The arms
hung past my wrists.
Ten finger-chewing minutes must have gone by before he returned, hiding
something behind his back and looking more playful than I'd ever seen him.
"Turn around," he said.
Taken off guard, I indulged him without objection. He sank onto the bed, lifted
me, and straddled me on his lap. "Open your mouth," he murmured.
I did as I was told. Sugar and tartness burst into my mouth, and I swooned,
recognizing the taste. My eyes popped open at the little red ball of fruit
perched in his fingers. A strawberry. Peeta had a cloth full of them in his
other hand.
"Oh, my," I said. "Where did you find these?"
"There's a patch not too far from here. I knew you'd like them." He fed me
another berry and kissed me as I ate. "They taste better on you," he said,
licking the juices off my chin, his mouth beginning its descent down my neck,
drugging me.
I arched away from him. "Peeta, wait. This is important."
"All right." He set the berries beside us and got comfortable, wrapping his
arms around me and pulling me flush against him. He tipped his head back to
look at me. "What is it?"
I stared at his chest. "I lied."
He froze, confusion ticking across his face. "About what?"
I shook my head, but it was no use. Grief clogged my throat, preventing me from
continuing, and I sensed him realizing the gravity of my silence. A harsh
breeze pounded against the tent.
"About what, Katniss?" he asked slowly.
"I lied to you. I'm not here to join your gang. I'm here to trap you."
He jerked away, and his hands dropped from my back, landing like rocks on my
hips. "That's not funny," he warned.
The tears came before I could stop them. "It's not a joke." I gasped between
sobs. "My first night here, when you tied me to that tree, Rue turned up."
"No."
"I thought she was there to free me."
"Don't."
"But she came to deliver a message from Snow."
I told him. The events flooded out of me, and the more I spoke, the faster
everything came out, the quicker I wanted to get it over with. To move on from
Peeta's confusion and jump right into whatever awaited me next. When I
finished, I felt relief. I'd rid myself of the secrecy, and there was nothing
left between us except silence.
Then terror. Because Peeta's hand was locked around my throat. "Look at me," he
said.
Doing so was my destruction. This wasn't the same Morning Peeta from moments
before. His features had coiled, his body folding in on itself, shrinking back
to who he'd been when I first met him. Those blue irises latched onto me,
rummaging for an excuse for what I'd done but finding nothing, the truth
crystallizing in front of him. I had betrayed him.
Groggy, sleepy voices bloomed from outside. I heard Finnick yawn.
Peeta released me and got out of bed, stalking to the opposite end of the tent.
The muscles of his back slumped, reflecting pain, then shifted, turning jagged
as cliffs. I'd lost him.
"Get out," he said.
"Peeta." I leapt off the cot and tried to touch him, but he kept batting me
away. "Peeta, please. I'm sorry. I—"
"Get. Out!" he roared. Not waiting, he snatched my arm, jostled me across the
tent, and flung me across the threshold.
I landed in the dirt right beside four pairs of feet. A moment of shock
followed as Peeta's band took in the sight of him half-dressed, and me clad in
nothing but his tunic, my legs exposed, my hair in a nest due to his eager
fingers. Evidence of what we'd done.
Finnick was the first to move. "God's teeth, Peet." He rushed to my side to
help me up. "What the devil is wrong with you?"
I wobbled but managed to stand upright. My head hurt. A twitch of remorse
flashed across Peeta's face. He hadn't meant to hurt me, but he steeled himself
against any sort of atonement. I didn't blame him.
"She's an imposter," he seethed. "She's planning to bring us to Snow. She's
nothing but a lying mutt!"
He unveiled my crimes with me standing before his friends, bare and probably a
whore in their eyes. My humiliation was absolute.
A harrowing quiet followed his testimonial. Until one by one, the people who'd
become my friends, who'd snuck up on me as Finnick once said, leveled their
gazes on me. Revulsion. Loathing. I'd done irreparable damage.
"You bitch!" Johanna launched herself at me, but Gale caught her just before
her claws reached my face.
I bumped into Thresh, but he pushed me away as if venom tainted my blood.
Johanna's arms flayed in my direction. "You lying bitch! I will kill you. I.
Will. Kill. You!"
Finnick just eyed me like a doleful, disappointed parent, perhaps remembering
our discussion by the fire. "Let her talk." He turned to Peeta. "Peet, everyone
has a story. Let her say her peace."
I had the feeling Peeta would rather turn Johanna loose on me. Yet he nodded.
They all stared at me, but it was too late. They'd made up their minds.
I was already stripped of my dignity, so they must know I had nothing left to
lose. I forced myself to stand tall. I would not coward under their judgment or
my failure as a human being.
"Snow was going to punish The Seam," I said.
Gale's stance slackened. I went through the tale again. It tamed them, but the
betrayal outweighed my motivations. Peeta didn't waver, disregarding my need to
protect my own, to the point where I resented him. After what happened between
us, did he not feel the slightest bit subdued by my predicament? Had our night
together not proven that he meant so much more to me now? Did he think
everything with him was pure fabrication?
I tried to catch his eye, but it would have been easier to catch one of his
arrows with my bare hand. Once again, they tied me to a tree.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
They huddled around the fire pit, talking in low voices as if I weren't there.
At least Peeta had had the compassion to let me dress before restraining me,
handing me my orange velvet gown from the day of my capture. Johanna had
reclaimed her clothes. She let rage get the best of her sense and tossed the
garments into the fire, as if indirectly burning me at the stake. Gale spoke
rapidly, slapping his knuckles against his palm to enunciate whatever point he
tried to make.
Were they thinking along the same lines as I? Now that I'd confessed, I settled
a very big part of the responsibility to protect The Seam in their laps. There
existed only two options. One, to do nothing. In which case Snow would
retaliate against The Seam and, if Peeta's gang merely cast me aside instead of
killing me, use me to guide His Majesty to their camp anyway.
Or two, do something. In which case failure was likely, and Snow would still
retaliate against The Seam. And execute Peeta and his band of thieves.
I couldn't stand them deciding how to handle the situation without including
me. The Seam was Gale's home, but it was mine, too.
"It's a trifle hard for me to help you if you won't untie me," I called out.
Four heads looked up, all except the most important one. I willed Peeta to look
my way. A muscle flexed in his jaw.
"Who gave you permission to speak?" Johanna said.
"You'll need me in some capacity, I'm sure." I squirmed against the restraints.
"Do be aware that the choices are limited. Verily, we shall all come to the
same conclusion."
"We'll see about that," Gale snarled.
"Any plan you fancy will require careful orchestration, and it will require my
aid. I must be seen to uphold my end of the bargain if The Seam is to be
spared. Thus, I am essential. Small but essential."
Johanna slapped the handle of her axe against her palm. "Oh, I gather, I can
make you smaller."
"Well, in order to plot, you'll need to concentrate quite hard. And I confess,
I'm in the mood to sing. I trust that won't disturb you."
Johanna growled.
"And I won't cease until you fetch me from this tree," I said. Clearing my
throat theatrically, I sang as loud as possible, conjuring up words to a Seam
song about a hanging tree, which seemed fitting at the moment.
Are you, Are you
Coming to the tree…
In spite of himself, Finnick's lips twitched.
Strange things did happen here…
Peeta stabbed the ground with an arrow.
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree…
Once I finished, I started all over again, then swallowed my words as Peeta
jumped up and stormed toward me, carrying his weapon. I forced myself to
continue, my voice quaking.
Are you, Are you
Coming to the tree…
He stopped a foot away from me. "Enough, Katniss."
Strange things did happen here…
He strung the arrow so fast that I didn't have time to flinch. The tip pressed
against my heart. In the backdrop, I saw the rest of his group rise
unanimously.
Peeta's arms shook and I sensed a war raging inside him. I persisted, not
caring if our witnesses heard me. "Last night was real. It was greatest thing
I've ever done." I swallowed, holding nothing back. "I love y—"
He pressed the arrow into my chest and shook his head, cautioning me to stop,
but I refused. "I love you, Peeta."
Hurt flitted across his face, but he covered it up quickly. He relaxed his
weapon and untied me.
"What are you doing?" Johanna cried.
"She's invested. This is all about The Seam for her. As long as its welfare is
at stake, she's not going anywhere," Peeta replied as I rubbed my wrists. He
leaned in and whispered, "Never say those words to me again, Katniss."
My chest hitched. I opened my mouth to protest when a childlike shriek hit the
air. It was then that we noticed Thresh was gone. He returned a second later,
strutting out of a bush and dragging a little body behind him.
"Rue!" I ran to my friend and clasped her against me, assuring her that nobody
would hurt her.
"Ah. Look what we found. So is this poppet your accomplice?" Finnick asked.
"Rather scrawny."
Rue glanced at the foreign faces surrounding us before focusing on me.
"Katniss, you told them?"
"I had to."
"Why?" she demanded. "Katniss, did you help these people rob a carriage six
days ago?"
My brow furrowed. The king must have heard about that from the aristocrat we'd
ambushed. "You knew I had to help out if I wanted to…"
If I wanted Peeta's gang to trust me.
Rue teetered on the verge of tears. Foreboding gripped me. Why was she here?
"Katniss, Snow knows you're smart. He wasn't surprised, but…he heard that you
saved Mellark's life."
I was grateful Rue was here to remind this group of that. I hadn't saved Peeta
merely to play a role. I wanted to protect him.
"So what?" I asked.
"The king wants ensure that you don't stray." She broke down again. "I'm
sorry." Sniffling, she withdrew a pouch and dropped it in my hand.
My fingers shook as I overturned the contents and let them fall in my palm,
revealing a note sealed with His Majesty's royal emblem. A missive from Snow.
I appreciate your loyalty. This is just in case we've misunderstood each other.
And Prim's Seam bracelet. Spotted with blood.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Peeta
Katniss made a sound like a dying animal, the noise debilitating Peeta long
enough for her to rip his bow from his hand before he'd realized it. She made
it across the camp, no doubt intending to massacre Snow by herself, when he
caught her from behind and drove her into the dirt. Never mind that she hadn't
fully learned to shoot yet; she writhed and wailed for him to let her go. The
sound splintered through Peeta.
She wasn't thinking straight. Going on a killing rampage would serve no purpose
except to get her head chopped off.
"Stop!" he yelled, clasping the sides of her face. "Listen to me!"
She wrestled against him.
"Look at me," he said. "Shhh. All I need you to do is look at me. That's all.
Just look."
After a few moments, she gave up and focused on him.
"Good girl," he said, arriving at a few conclusions. The king had commandeered
her sister, but he hadn't hurt the girl yet. Though he would if Peeta didn't
show himself at the palace tomorrow. The threat on Prim was insurance, a tool
to ensure Katniss did as instructed.
Peeta assured her of this in as soothing a voice as he could. When she stopped
gasping and her skin tone returned to its normal olive shade, he took her
sister's bracelet and wound it gently around her wrist. Then he helped her up
and led her to the fire pit. She stared ahead at a lichen-covered tree, using
the corded rope decorating the waist of her gown to tie endless knots, a
maddened expression on her face. Behind her shock, Peeta saw underlying
determination, the look of someone about to commit a disturbing amount of
violence.
It made him wince. Katniss—Lady Everdeen—needed to learn to contain that fire
of hers. That fire that so often turned his brain into mashed potatoes and sent
his knees dropping into his ankles.
The rest of the group joined them to conceive a plan, and Peeta schooled
himself to focus. His Majesty was hell bent on catching Panem's notorious
adversary. They would have to make it look that way. "We'll give Snow what he
wants," Peeta said. "Then we'll take it from him again."
Gale nodded. "So who gets caught and who serves as backup?"
"Just me."
"What?" Gale and Finnick said at the same time.
Johanna speared the ground with her ax. "If you think we're going to let you
risk your pale neck—"
"We need only one sitting duck," Peeta said. "Snow wants me. Ultimately, I'm
the person that counts. End of discussion."
"We have to make it appear as though I've done what the king asked," Lady
Everdeen said, abandoning the knot she'd made of her corded belt and returning
to herself. "That way, Snow will have no reason to blame The Seam. I'll make it
look like I'm on the king's side."
"Yes. Think you can manage that?" Johanna mocked.
Lady Everdeen slapped the ax from Johanna's hand so hard it bounced a few feet
away. They both stood, coming nose-to-nose with each other before Gale and
Thresh urged them apart.
"Sit down. Now. And listen," Peeta snapped, his patience waning. When they did,
he continued. "This is what we're going to do: Once Lady Everdeen leads me into
the palace and the guards apprehend me, I'll escape. I'll need Gale and Thresh
to help take out the men."
"I can get uniforms for all of you," Rue offered. "I know where the laundresses
work. And I can lead you out of the prison. I know the route from when they
gave her ladyship and me a tour. I can hide there and wait for you. No one will
see me."
Peeta accepted her offer, then dictated the rest of the details. Rue would
return to the palace and gather the disguises. In the morning, she'd leave them
in a designated spot outside the gate, then wait for the boys in the palace
dungeon. Johanna and Finnick would stand post by the stables, once they'd
dispersed of the unsuspecting groomsmen. Thresh, who'd managed to steal himself
a decent collection of ingredients for tinctures and balms and chemical
concoctions, would fuse together a more complex and scientific weapon. Just in
case they needed to make a grander exit.
The plan offered no guarantees. This wasn't a mere forest raid on a member of
the peerage. This was a fortress with few ways to get out and a lot more
soldiers than their group could handle if surrounded. But they had the element
of surprise on their side, and his gang had always been going at disappearing
acts. The smaller their group, the better.
A gust of wind caused Lady Everdeen's skirt to beat against her legs. She
caught Peeta watching the material flutter. He glared and looked away.
Her actions had been a sham. No matter that he understood why she'd gone along
with Snow's plan. He would have done the same thing for his friends. She had a
conscience, and his gang had grown on her to the point where she took a risk in
telling them. He would grant her that.
But she'd also fabricated her feelings, spun a very alluring and very tight web
around him. Against his better judgment, he'd allowed yet another girl to prove
he was a bona fide imbecile. If she thought her admission of love had been
enough to woo him into submission, she had another thing coming. He'd suffered
enough buffoonery to last a lifetime. He needed to water down his reaction to
her plight, pump up his emotional reserves, and keep his eyes off her goddamn
hips. They needed to get tomorrow over with so he would be free of her. And
never have to see her again.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
In the middle of the night, she tried to sneak away. Peeta had woken up to the
sound of a tent flapping, and somehow he just knew. Ripping off the blanket, he
charged out of his compartment in time to see her disappear into the trees.
Groaning and swearing and fuming, he grabbed his bow and went after her.
She snaked through the underbrush, her braid bouncing. Something on her hip
flashed under the moonlight—Thresh's knife. From a distance, she looked like an
armed runaway fairy.
She stopped, maybe trying to figure out which way to go, seeing as she didn't
know the way to the palace from here. Peeta shot an arrow that whizzed through
the hollow over her shoulder and hit a tree trunk. It was an unnecessary and
cocky move—he could have just seized her arm—but he couldn't resist.
Lady Everdeen whipped around.
"Sleep walking?" he asked.
Embarrassment and animosity flitted across her features. She tried to run, but
he grabbed her, pulled so hard she bounced against his chest. "What are you
doing?" he hissed. "We have a plan. We made a plan, Kat—Lady Everdeen. Is it at
all possible for you to stick to it?"
"Let me go, Peeta," she snarled.
"I can't."
She tried to rip her arm from his grasp, but he held fast, permitting her time
to get the pent-up anger out of her system until, defeated, she stopped. And
then she gave him a look of unparalleled despair. With a sigh, Peeta did the
one thing he knew he shouldn't. He gathered her to him and enclosed his arms
around her. She hugged him back, releasing shaky breaths against his neck.
"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice muffled, like that was the only way she
could admit a weakness. "I want to hunt him down myself and destroy him. I
don't want any of you involved."
"I told you, Snow is not going to hurt Prim. And you wouldn't breach the
stronghold on your own. You could put your sister in more danger. Don't worry
about the rest of us."
"It's my fault."
"Oh, be quiet."
She tipped her head to look at him, far too sweetly for his taste. This was the
moment to let go.
Peeta wasn't fast enough. Her fingers stole up and ran across his lips, and he
stilled, and then his lids shuttered closed. Unbidden, the recollection of
those same fingers digging into his sweaty back invaded his memory. If he let
so much as a single flash of their passionate night together cement in his
mind, he would do something stupid like forgive her.
Nevertheless, she trapped him, planting kisses along his jaw while his breaths
grew shallow. As always, his body responded to her the way it wasn't supposed
to. Swift and wild. He clamped his mouth shut lest his desire make itself
known, yet a groan escaped the back of his throat when her lips latched onto
his earlobe, drawing it into the wet heat of her mouth.
The instant she moved in to kiss him fully, Peeta reared back. "Don't."
"I can't help it," she whispered. "And neither can you."
That much was undeniable. One thing she couldn't have feigned last night was
the arch of her back as he claimed her. When it came to physical hunger, their
bodies couldn't be more compatible. The problem was she'd convinced him their
bond stretched beyond that.
"This is real," she said. "I didn't plan for it to happen."
"You must know I can't believe that."
"Look at what I gambled in order to tell you the truth."
"That was your conscience talking. Not love."
She flinched. "Was my conscience talking when you had me treed? I had nothing
left to lose."
True, but that had been a moment when she was at the mercy of their assistance.
Her confession must have been a last-ditch effort to make sure he helped her.
She'd grown desperate and tapped into his tender side. His very weak spot.
"You wanted to be set free, didn't you?" he countered.
She reeled away from him. "How dare you tell me how I feel."
"How dare you tell me what I should feel."
"You're so afraid of being hurt that you're using this as an excuse to pull
away."
That made Peeta furious—before her, he rarely got so mad. Why was it that
whenever he sought to make sense of their connection, no answer seemed right or
wrong? Even now, he doubted himself. For he couldn't explain why she insisted
upon keeping up an emotional farce. It only confounded him more.
He wiped his palms over his face and muttered, "We're talking in circles."
"Because you're not listening to me—"
"No, I'm not afraid of being hurt because it's already happened! You've already
done it, Katniss!"
His voice boomed into the space between them. She stepped further back, looking
flustered and, yes, guilty.
"You had no choice with your family and your home. You did what you had to, I
know that," he said. "But you did have a choice in how you got close to me. You
knew what you were doing. You knew where this was going. And you knew where it
would leave me. You could have earned my trust in other ways. You didn't have
to go after my heart! You could have spared me that!"
"I'm not her," she insisted.
Peeta's blood turned to ice. Did he hear her correctly?
"Finnick told you...about Delly. You knew all this time," he concluded, then
laughed, although none of this was funny. Bitterness dulled his laughter.
"Well, that makes what you did even worse."
He listened to her feet shuffle over the leaves on the forest bed. "That night
when I sang for you and your friends. I didn't do it because Thresh asked me
to. I didn't because I wanted you to hear me. Only you."
He didn't know what she meant by that, or how to respond.
"You're right," she said. "I shouldn't have touched you."
Peeta swiped Thresh's blade from her hip and thrust it into his boot, no longer
concerned that she would make an impromptu dash for the palace. He removed the
Seam bracelet hanging off the waist of his pants, then took her hand and
watched her eyes widen as he dropped the leather token into her palm. And then
walked away.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
The stone walls of the castle loomed above Peeta and Lady Everdeen, their gray
spires stabbing the heavens and blending in with the overcast sky. At the front
gate, the scents of horse dung and overripe fruits inundated his senses. An
elderly man pushed past them, coughing and swatting away flies that seemed to
be everywhere. Guards stood post outside, stopping carts to check their
contents before bidding them entrance. Somewhere nearby, a mule brayed.
Dressed in the royal garb Rue had managed to acquire for them, his gang flanked
Peeta and Lady Everdeen, pretending to detain them. They glided across the
drawbridge and through the gatehouse with no problem. According to Rue, Snow
expected Lady Everdeen to lead Peeta through the main thoroughfare, then across
the market in the courtyard, and head toward the keep. Once there, he could
expect a quick seizure.
Peeta kept his head down, his features concealed by the hood. Thresh was the
largest of them all, so he concealed the legendary bow beneath his disguise.
They'd barely passed a falconer's post and already Peeta itched for his weapon.
He felt lighter without it, and not in a good way. But if he were to get caught
armed, it might rouse suspicion that he'd anticipated an ambush.
Inside the bailey, Finnick and Johanna headed for the stables, while Gale and
Thresh disappeared into the crowd, supplied with Lady Everdeen's directions to
the dungeon. She and Peeta threaded through the courtyard mass. The clang of
metal coming from the blacksmith's station made her jump. She was more
terrified than she let on.
He leaned toward her. "It will be over soon."
She whispered, "When you get out of here, you'll have to move your camp. Snow
will expect me to lead him to you."
"I know."
"Please make it out of there. And…" Her voice wobbled. "I won't have another
chance. So thank you for the hunting lesson."
He grinned to himself because he never knew what to expect from her—including
her choice of parting words. Although she'd sounded like she wanted to say
more.
They would not see one another after this. The knowledge sliced him up.
People bustled around, unaware, hungry, tired. At the keep's threshold, Peeta
and Lady Everdeen began their performance. They glanced around cautiously to
seem as though she'd secretly brought him here, intending to steal riches that
didn't exist. Ever-so-subtly, Lady Everdeen lifted her head, offering the
guards a clear view of her face beneath her cloak. The men tensed. They'd been
instructed to look out for her.
She and Peeta continued, moving on as though to sneak toward the back entrance.
He kept his face straight and schooled himself not to let his instincts take
over. Then he felt a pair of burly hands grab him.
"You!" the man roared, swinging Peeta around like a ragdoll. Good. The bigger
he was, the more realistic the arrest, because there was no way he could beat
this man. Thresh would have to take him later.
Lady Everdeen played the flustered maiden, scampering backward and pointing.
"This is him! Peeta Mellark! Don't let him go!"
Chaos ensued without Peeta having to do much but pretend-struggle and scowl. A
larger crowd gathered, yelping and shoving at each other to get a glimpse of
the notorious legend. Many of the faces he recognized, because he'd fed and
stole for them. They gazed at the scene in wonder and pity and sorrow. Their
voices, along with his name, flared throughout the bailey like a brushfire.
"My, my. Peeta Mellark," the burly guard snarled, then let his voice carry
through the air. "Look what we have, ladies and gentleman. Right under our
noses."
Peeta spoke through clenched teeth. "Value that nose now, because it won't be
in one piece when I—"
The guard whacked Peeta on the backs of his legs with a club. He wailed and
fell to his knees. His head hung forward for a second before the guard yanked
him to his feet again, fisted his hair, and pointed a knife at his throat.
He heard Lady Everdeen shriek. Real or not real?
"No!" she cried.
Real.
Then she altered her voice to sound cold. "N-no. No, you blockheads. Not here.
The king orders. He's to be locked up first. Now, go on!"
The burly guard announced loud and clear. "Snow will have Peeta Mellark on the
rack for all to see come morning. He's fixing to have himself a nice, proper
show."
Before they lugged Peeta away, he managed one final glance at Katniss and knew
it was a mistake. Her gray eyes blinked with remorse and determination and
Farewell.
The guard and his partner lugged Peeta across the courtyard to the east end of
the bailey and into a building loaded with tunnels and corridors. They winded
down a stairwell lit by torches and tainted with the stench of blood. Someone's
howl echoed. Peeta's own legs seared with pain.
As of now, Lady Everdeen should be feigning distress and weariness over her
captivity, letting herself be escorted to her chamber. The guards seemed to be
enjoying their moment of triumph as they opened his cell, which groaned on its
rusty hinges like a ghost and led to a wall covered in chains.
"In you go," the burly one said. Before Thresh attacked him from behind,
swiping the man's club and knocking him out with it.
Gale battled with the second guard, the two of them grunting and catapulting to
the floor where they rolled around. The man landed on top of Gale, ready to
slash open his neck when Peeta wrapped his arms around the guard's middle,
hoisted him up, and flung him across the space. As the man lumbered to his
feet, Peeta spun and backhanded him across the face, boxing him down again. Out
cold.
"Damn you, I had him," Gale grunted as Peeta helped him up. "Why don't you ever
just stick to your bow tricks?"
A faint gasp sent them pivoting. Rue peeked her head from around the corner.
"Hi."
Peeta smiled. Impressively quiet, this one.
Thresh and Gale tossed the unconscious and bleeding guards into the cell, stole
their keys, and locked the door. Thresh tossed Peeta his bow and arrow.
Gale wiped his hands. "You would think they'd have a large entourage to
surround Peeta Mellark."
"If Snow used more men to lead one figure away, it would have made his army
look weak," Peeta pointed out.
He spoke too soon. A throng of shouts rolled down the tunnel. More guards.
Rue whirled and pointed down an ominous corridor. "That way. It will take you
up to the servants' kitchen and then the mess hall. There's a back door that
leads outside and down to the stables. You can get out through the east gate.
It'll take you over the moat and then you're not far from the woods."
Peeta tousled her hair. "You're brave."
"She loves you."
He frowned. The battle cries grew louder. "Why would you say that?"
"Why would you doubt it?" she asked, then shrugged. "This morning, she told me
she sang for you. Katniss never sings for people. She hasn't since her mother
left."
He let this information sink in and then told Rue to hide. She smirked, as if
to tell him not to worry about her.
The boys took off. Gale and Thresh's royal guard uniforms prevented them from
being noticed through the mess hall. It was when they barreled through the back
door that things got more complicated. A throng of warriors surged toward them,
brandishing swords. Peeta halted at the top of the stairs, whipped out a
handful of arrows, and slid sideways down the banister while shooting in rapid
succession, pelting soldiers one by one until he landed at the bottom. Three
horses plowed toward them, commanded by Finnick and Johanna.
Gale hopped behind Johanna and kissed her cheek. Finnick pulled Peeta up onto
his horse. Thresh took the third steed, ripped a tightly packed ball from his
pocket, and threw it at the guards. It exploded and sent a massive cloud of
thick dust into the air. Blinded, their attackers staggered around before,
breathing in the alchemical mixture, they passed out.
Galloping across the bailey, Peeta aimed up and fired, striking a pair of
guards grappling to lower the portcullis, enabling his gang to clear the east
gate. As they raced over the hillside and dodged arrows swarming them from the
turrets, Peeta thought of that long, dark braid. He wished he could have
touched it one more time. Then he let that desire go, along with his last
arrow.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
Katniss
In the days that followed, Snow launched a brutal campaign to find Peeta and
his gang, but to no avail. Rue and I led His Majesty to the campsite, but it
had been cleared out. The only thing left were the makeshift oven, where Peeta
had baked his bread, and the fire pit where we'd all sang and danced together.
Where Peeta had asked me if he could have me.
Snow devoted most of his time to pursuing Peeta, neglecting his other duties as
Panem's monarch. He interrogated me for information, anything that would help
him track his enemy. It had been painful to answer the king's questions. Aside
from what kind of weapons they used, I had little pertinent knowledge to aid
him. All I'd done while in captivity was hunt and swim and fight and rob a
carriage. And fall in love.
The one significant clue I'd kept to myself was the mockingbird call the group
used to send messages to each other through the forest. I'd heard it once when
Thresh had been on lookout—Peeta had explained it to me later.
When His Majesty no longer had use for me, he gave me back my sister. The
guards escorted her to my chamber, and she pushed past them and sprinted into
my arms. "Katniss!"
"Prim!" I clung to her so tight, furious about the dark circles under her eyes
and the way she trembled. She'd been terrified and alone.
We crept into my bed. Amid the glow of candlelight, I stroked her fine blond
hair, breathed in her scent, and relished the feeling of her willowy arms
around me. She wept and told me the whole story, how she'd been taken from home
and brought here, how she'd been confined to a room in another part of the
palace. The only indication that she'd been harmed was the bandage on her hand.
They'd cut off her bracelet and sliced her palm in order to stain it with blood
as a warning to me.
Our father was on his way to Panem. Initially, he'd been threatened not to come
to the palace if he wanted his daughters to live. Now that I wasn't an asset
for Snow beyond my role as Seneca's fiancé, the king had requested my father
join us in the castle until the wedding. When Prim informed me of this, my
heart clenched. I'd hoped to escort her to The Seam. To give myself space
before the nuptials, which would take place in a fortnight.
Apparently, Snow had other plans. I supposed that he wanted to keep me here in
case new developments sprouted regarding the hunt for Peeta. Did His Majesty
want my family nearby in order to ensure my cooperation? Did that mean the king
doubted my allegiance?
With my sister tucked in my arms, I forced myself not to dwell on this, instead
taking solace in her silvery voice.
"Was it scary?" she asked when I told her the story of Peeta's band of thieves.
"At first," I answered.
"Did they hurt you? Was the Mellark boy cruel?" Before I could answer, the
color drained from her cheeks. I could tell her imagination had begun to travel
down more private terrain. "Oh, Kat, did he...did he..." She frowned. "You're
blushing."
"It's of no consequence," I said, tapping my finger against her nose.
She wiggled away from me to get a better look at my face. I hated it whenever
she stared at me like that. It rendered me powerless to conceal truths I might
wish to protect. I turned around, but she simply crawled over me like a bug.
"Katniss, you didn't!"
"I—"
Prim slapped my pillow. "You did! Katniss, wherefore? He's a criminal, a
cutpurse, and you let..." She tilted her head at me, registering something
anew. "Do you care about him?"
I swallowed. "He's an easy boy to care for."
She hesitated. "So easy?"
"Dreadfully thus."
I spoke of our friendship and my growing fondness for him. My sister's mood
shifted yet again. This time, to intrigue. "Is he handsome?"
My account would never do Peeta justice, but I endeavored. Prim must have been
satisfied because she sighed and ran a finger over the bedspread. "You miss
him."
"It's not to be. He's safe. You're safe. That's all that matters."
"I wish I could unbreak your heart."
"Your very existence is a magnificent help with that," I laughed.
"It's not fair for you to marry Seneca when your heart is occupied. Tell me you
won't mourn this. Even if it's from a distance, and being promised to another,
you shouldn't believe Peeta has cast you aside. This Delly girl you spoke of
wounded him so greatly that it's tainting his judgment. If he's smart enough to
outwit Snow, he's smart enough to understand matters of the heart."
"No one is ever smart enough to understand matters of the heart. One moment, I
was determined to protect you. The next..." Shame prevented me from speaking to
her face. "The next, I forsook your safety and chose his instead."
"Don't say that. Don't blame yourself," Prim said. "This wasn't a choice
between me and him. You had faith in finding a solution together, that's why
you told him. I don't feel any less important, and I don't expect you to love
me more than anyone in this world."
"I expect it," I said.
"You expect too much. You're passionate, Katniss. You will never be able to
organize your feelings to your satisfaction. You always fail to identify your
own emotions until they've been stuck to you for a while."
Mayhap she was right. Over the course of one glorious night, Peeta had seized
me. How swiftly my concerns had changed. He'd affected my heart the way wine
affected the senses: subtly, languidly, and then immediately. In one fell
swoop. Without giving me time to prepare myself. I would never understand it.
Prim said, "In time, he will come to understand you meant no ill-will. I'm sure
he thinks of you often. Let that be a comfort."
"I'll try," I lied, and then coaxed her to sleep.
Time passed, but I received no news of Peeta. No robberies. Perhaps he was
waiting until Snow scaled back on his search. Believing Peeta hadn't forgiven
me was easier than figuring he'd come to the sense Prim had argued over. I
didn't want to think of him missing me. I wanted him to move on. Because then
I'd have no further capacity to hurt him, especially with my wedding
approaching.
At night, I thought of him, and I touched myself, crying out his name as
release washed over me. And then I cried for real until I fell asleep.
My happiest days were spent taking walks with Prim. We reunited with our
father, the three of us holding court for hours. I endured Effie's tutelage.
She kept warning me not to "raise brouhaha" in the castle, as if she expected
me to commit a faux-pas at every corner. I rejoiced when Sheriff Abernathy
arrived for the festivities, particularly because I knew the "Unsavory
Tosspot," as Effie called him, would put my chaperone in a sour mood. The first
place the sheriff wanted a tour of was the wine cellar.
I found myself taking up foreign activities. I interviewed the gamekeepers
about how they did their job, pretending that my interest was merely due to the
fact that I wanted to be a knowledgeable mistress, that it was my duty as
Seneca's betrothed to know how the palace worked. When really, I learn about
wild animals and hunting.
I practiced archery. At first, a heavily-freckled instructor was hired for me,
but he lost patience with my refusal to listen. Which was only because I'd
already lost patience with his arrogance. He kept wiping his brow with a
handkerchief and having fits about everything I did. It wasn't my fault that
that stableman had gotten in the way. He'd been hiding behind a bush and
relieving himself. How was I supposed to know he'd been there? Besides, he was
recovering fine.
The longer I was confined to the palace, the more I just wanted to shoot
something. I wasn't interested in technique as much as feeling the weapon. It
turned out, I didn't need my instructor, after all. Remembering the way Peeta
had positioned my fingers and the words he'd whispered, my aim grew more and
more promising. The arrow's tip stopped piercing my hand once I'd perfected my
grip. The first time I hit my mark, Prim and I jumped up and down and squealed.
My practice increased tenfold after that.
Seneca presented me with a new engagement ring. Another emerald. I removed it
when I practiced with my bow and arrow.
The prince crossed the gardens to visit me during an early shooting session.
His lanky form crossed the manicured lawn, raven black hair slicked behind his
ears. It didn't matter that summer had peaked. For his face, flat and wide as a
dinner plate, always looked cold to me. He hid his conventional good-looks
behind a comical-looking beard. When he reached me, he took both my hands and
kissed them, surveying my green gown with appreciation. A motif of leaf vine
embroidery, in a lighter shade of green, adorned the bell sleeves and scooped
bodice. It was my favorite dress. It reminded me of the woods.
I resisted the urge to retract my fingers. Not only because Seneca repelled me,
but because I wanted to massage my stomach. It was hurting again. It had been
since breakfast, when Cook had fed us eggs and a cup of berries I'd never
tasted before.
"Another morning of sport?" he asked. "Your occupations have been rather a
surprise, my dear."
The prince was observant. None of these things had formally been my fancy. I'd
changed. He'd noticed.
"Being here has aroused the inquisitive side in me," I said, hoping to flatter
him.
It was the wrong answer, because he was indeed flattered. Too much so. And
coming far too close to me. He fingered a lock of hair that had escaped from
the braided bun at the nape of my neck, which Rue had expertly fashioned to
resemble a blossoming flower.
"Mmm," he said, icy eyes fixing on my cleavage. "Arousal is a promising start
to our happiness. I'll endeavor to make a study out of you then. In other
ways."
I stepped back and aimed an arrow at him. "You'll have to catch me first."
I'd intended to make it look like I was teasing. But suddenly, I found myself
wanting to release the arrow. Seneca studied my expression, which should have
been coy and flirtatious. Instead, I was fully aware how dead serious I looked.
He seemed shocked for a moment. Then he burst out laughing. "My dear, I cannot
wait to rob you of that scowl."
I lowered my weapon and fake-laughed, relishing how close I'd come to
puncturing his lung.
My stomach cramps got worse. To Prim's horror, I began spotting blood between
my legs. I hadn't been expecting my monthly flux, so a physician was called to
examine me. I had no choice but to expose myself to him, praying he would say
nothing about the fact that my virtue was no longer intact. To my everlasting
relief, I wasn't carrying a child. The doctor ordered me to rest, claiming I
was under stress because of the wedding.
That evening, Snow called for me. This was an event. He hadn't requested my
presence in weeks. Hope and fear mingled inside me that he'd learned something
new regarding Peeta's whereabouts. I smoothed the folds of my gown and crept
into the royal suite.
"Ahhh, the illustrious Lady Everdeen." Snow rose from his seat, his hair always
taking me off guard, so glaringly white it looked like an experiment. He cut a
magnificent figure for his age and dwarfed me with his size.
I sank into a curtsy. "Your Majesty wished to see me?"
He beckoned me to sit across from him. Tea had been set out. Returning to his
chair, he crossed his legs in a manner that felt menacing to me. I wasn't
thirsty, but I drank all the same. The tea tasted bitter.
"I heard you were unwell today. I was concerned."
"Your Majesty is very kind. I'm better now."
"I also called you here to say we're mitigating our search for Mellark for the
time being. I'm exhausting my resources, and the boy is exhausting me with his
evasiveness. I hope that doesn't disappoint you. I know he offended you most
severely. But the most we've gathered is one report indicating a weapons convoy
was attacked a few days ago on the main road. The assailants disappeared, along
with a generous supply of arrows."
I sipped to hide my grin.
"So it seems the little fellow is beginning to take chances again. All the
same, I'd prefer to pull back, open a door, make him comfortable to start
thieving again, to the point where he lets his guard down. We'll monitor the
reports, see if he reveals a pattern. That sort of thing. To my great
annoyance, he requires more tact and patience." The king leaned back and laced
his fingers together. "If I didn't want his head on a pike, I'd request he
oversee my armed forces. I've never known such a gifted vagrant. Witnesses
testified to his speed and grace as though they'd never seen a likeness. I keep
thinking how Mellark slipped so easily from my grasp even after being
apprehended. Although his little band of cutpurses seemed to be well-positioned
to help him escape...and well outfitted. It's as if he was expecting to get
caught." Snow eyed me. "Why would he think that?"
I rubbed my palms against my lap. When I first returned to the palace, Snow had
questioned me about the uniforms Peeta's gang had been seen wearing. I
mentioned that they'd already owned stolen uniforms but had never needed to use
them before. That they'd come with us and stationed themselves in other areas
of the bailey just in case we got caught. And when they saw Peeta get taken,
they'd surged into action. I didn't give many details, figuring that would
appear more honest.
Again, I settled on a less lucid answer. "It's hard to guess the workings of an
outlaw's mind, sire."
"Of course. And you couldn't analyze his escape, nor the spectacle it caused,
because once we detained him, you disappeared. According to your lady's maid,
you fainted and were carried to your chamber."
There was nothing to say to that.
"How do you like your bridal gown?"
I choked on my tea. The change of topic alerted me further. He was trying to
imbalance me by shifting direction unexpectedly. Why? Was it to gauge an
uncensored reaction?
"It's beautiful, sire," I said.
I hated my dress.
"I've noticed you taking up archery as of late. What influenced you?"
"Deadly sports intrigue me."
He chuckled. "It's a shame about the wedding night."
"Your Majesty?"
Snow leaned forward, plucked a rose from the vase on the tea tray, and sniffed.
"I trust you heard me, my lady." He flung the rose to the side. "Do you know of
the nightlock berry, Lady Everdeen?" Without letting me answer, he continued.
"When consumed, it creates pains in the stomach and bleeding. It's not
dangerous, but it has just enough potency to cause discomfort. I believe those
were the berries you ate this morning."
The teacup clattered in my hand. I set it down.
"My physician examined you closely."
I fought to steady my breathing.
"May I ask who the lucky man was?"
Snow had been suspecting me. It came together now. He'd spent the last few
weeks observing me, inventorying my behavior, calculating my all my actions.
I'd been fed those berries on purpose. The king had orchestrated that doctor's
examination. I'd been careless.
He was repulsive.
"Sire, I—"
"Either you're a more conniving creature than even I gave you credit for, or
you allowed yourself to get swept away by a pair of very skilled archer's
hands. Alas, Lady Everdeen. My son will be disappointed, but as you know, I'd
divined that we had an unspoken agreement not to lie to each other. Pity."
The next thing I knew, a hard object rammed into the side of my head, and I was
dragged out of the room.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Peeta
He trudged out of the woods and caught the tail-end of Gale and Johanna's
fight. Thresh sat in the corner and massaged his temples, signaling they'd been
at it for a while.
"I'm telling you, he's not fine. He hasn't been fine for weeks," Gale
protested.
"You're being dramatic."
"I don't call not having a decent catch in ages dramatic, Jo. He isn't shooting
straight and—"
Peeta threw down a pile of squirrels at the fire pit to get his friends'
attention. He may have been behaving despondent of late, but criticizing his
hunting skills was where he drew the line.
Johanna and Gale paused, burdening Peeta with the same looks of apprehension
and weariness his band had perfected since their escape from the palace. It was
as if they expected him to ignite at any moment. He'd only hit Finnick that one
time—Peeta failed to remember what the argument had been about. Finnick was
still cross at him.
They'd moved their camp the minute they'd returned, disregarding whatever their
horses couldn't carry. They'd stayed on the move for weeks while Snow sniffed
them down, only now deeming it secure enough to establish a new post in the
woods. Peeta had sacrificed his stock of arrows in the escape, and he'd had to
craft alternative ones from branches. They'd only been sufficient to hunt. For
real bows, he and his gang had intercepted a weapons convoy four days ago.
After so long without proper arrows, his new collection revived him.
Still, they lacked a great deal of supplies. Peeta missed being near the lake—a
crucial source of water. He also missed his outdoor oven. Crude as it had been,
it had taken an eternity to build. And baking always eased his woes.
Gale rushed a hand through his hair. "Squirrel. Again."
Peeta wrinkled his nose. He flung his arrow pack to the ground with such force
that it sent their fire wood pile toppling over. "Who are you to complain?" he
yelled. "We're beggars, not choosers. We're peasants living slightly better
than other peasants. We don't have a castle to provide whatever fare we fancy.
We're nothing like them, so eat your damn meal and shut up!"
His friends stared at him.
Gale lifted his palms in surrender. "I only meant—"
"I'm not finished," Peeta snapped.
"I take it breakfast has arrived?" Finnick asked, emerging from his tent and
wiping his eyes.
"It's not morning, Finn. It's afternoon," Johanna said.
"Truly?"
It had come out of nowhere. The talk of hunting had led to thoughts of food, to
thoughts of real food, to thoughts of banquets of food, to thoughts of
celebrations, to thoughts of weddings. One in particular.
Peeta still wasn't used to having a temper—no thanks to Lady Everdeen—so he
paced, hoping to shake it off. "I'm sick and tired of being treated like I'll
break. I'm not glass!"
"We know, Peet," Finnick said, frowning.
"I'm fine, dammit."
Johanna strode over to Peeta, grabbed his chin, and made him face her. She
examined his features and then groaned. "Gale's right. It wasn't a tryst for
you, and you're not getting better."
Peeta slapped her hand away.
"You fell in love with her."
"I didn't—"
"You're in love with her." Johanna pulled on her hair. "You spectacular idiot!
Why? After what she did, how could you be so stupid?"
Peeta sought to deny it when Thresh leapt from his seat. "Something's wrong,"
he said.
The band turned to see Rue loitering on the fringes of their camp. She
resembled a wingless bird, stricken and ready to collapse. "Peeta," she
whimpered. "You have to help. Please."
In an unusually nurturing move for her, Johanna sat the girl by the pit and
brought her a canteen of water. The sight poisoned Peeta with trepidation.
"Help with what, Rue?"
"It's Lady Everdeen."
It wasn't Rue who'd spoken. The gang stood to attention, grabbing their weapons
and leveling them at the red-nosed man who halted a few feet away. An older man
who seemed not to care a fig about their battle stance. Indeed, it was clear
they amused him.
"Armed children," he observed in a sloppy voice. "Sweeting, that ax is far too
big for you."
The ax flew past his head and lodged into a branch. "Try me," Johanna sneered.
"Well, then. Do I actually have some fighters here?" he asked.
"He's with me," Rue said. "He's from The Seam."
"Well, boy," the man said to Gale. "Do you not recognize me? I caught you
trying to steal one of my geese when you were ten. Then years later, I nabbed
your foolish hide for poaching."
"Sheriff Abernathy," Gale said, lowering his sword.
"Pleasure to know I leave an impression. You have anything stronger than water?
It's been a long day."
"Peeta, he's a friend of Lady Everdeen," Gale said.
Peeta relaxed his bow. The rest of the group followed suit.
"So you're the strapping lad what stole her ladyship's maidenhead, eh? You must
be quiet a good thief. Never thought she'd give that up, not even to that
potpie-faced fiancé of hers."
"Haymitch," Rue pleaded. "Please, just tell them."
Evidently, the man had a tendency to digress even in times of peril. His face
turned grim. "Snow knows what Lady Everdeen did for you. She's been charged
with treason and is set to be taken to the executioner's block at dawn."
It wasn't until his bow hit the ground that Peeta realized he'd dropped it.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
     Music: "The Lion's Roar" by First Aid Kit.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Peeta
A chorus of overlapping voices flooded his ears, but he heard none of what the
people around him said. Their words bubbled and dissolved, impossible to focus
on, much less understand.
Katniss. Her name was all he thought, felt, heard.
Peeta's body strung itself as tight as his bow. His bow, which he swiped off
the ground, along with his arrows. His bow, which he choked with his fist as he
strode across the camp, passing the voices, then launching into a run, legs
cutting across the ground, arms pumping until he reached his horse. Unknotting
the reigns, he leapt onto the animal's back, steered the creature around, and
dug his heels into its sides, sending them catapulting through the trees.
The voices calling his name, shouting for him, trailed behind. His name, which
didn't matter anymore, which faded from his memory. He wasn't Peeta. He wasn't
Mellark. He was her. All of her. Every part of him was her.
The wind whipped his hood against his back, but he wasn't going fast enough,
not enough, not enough. When he reached the main road, he leaned forward,
bringing his chest closer to the horse, and snapped the reigns, increasing
momentum. The steed plowed down the path, kicking up leaves and puffing
thickly. A vision of Snow's wrinkling face and pasty hair poisoned Peeta's
mind, and he pursued that image.
I will kill you.
Crashing out of the forest, Peeta eased up, slowing the horse from a gallop to
a cantor along the boundary of the woods. The castle's battlements rose over
the hills in the distance, their grated edges reminding him of teeth. He
trained his gaze on the single red flag slapping the current above the keep,
announcing to the whole of Panem a public execution scheduled for the following
morning. Red as a rose. Red as blood.
Peeta jumped off the animal, tethered it to a tree, and set out across the high
grasses.
Something jerked on his hood and sent him flying back and landing on the
ground. Thresh's dark eyes stared down at him, followed by a number of other
frantic, angry, heavily-breathing faces. Their horses huffed in the background,
secured next to his own.
It took Thresh, Gale, and Finnick to hold Peeta down.
Finnick clamped a hand over Peeta's mouth to silence him. "Peet, this isn't
you. See to reason. Don't let Snow hijack your sense."
"Damn right it isn't him. This is what's left of him," Johanna said. "As if
allowing that wench to bewitch him hasn't done enough, now we have to exorcise
him from his stupidity and temper—both of which he never had before meeting
her. I want my blond-haired, blue-eyed, stocky idol back, and I want him back
now."
Gale didn't care for that comment. "I thought I was your idol."
"You're my lover. That's more important. I don't suppose we can talk him out of
saving her?"
Peeta growled into Finnick's hand.
"No," Rue cried. "Lady Everdeen is going to be hanged. Don't any of you care?"
"I care about Peeta, not that wench. She broke his heart. All I want to do is
break her face."
"Hellfire, Johanna, she doesn't deserve to die," Gale hissed. "Don't push me on
this. We're helping."
"Don't let the lad go until his eyes have ceased dilating," the older man
called Abernathy said. He and Rue must have hitched a ride with Peeta's friends
in their pursuit of him.
Just then, a small hand touched Peeta's, commanding his attention. Rue smiled
sadly at him and placed a strip of leather into his palm. Katniss's bracelet.
"I took it from her room," Rue said. "I thought you'd want it."
He closed his fingers around the bracelet. It's soft, woven texture—so much
like her braid—beat the mania out of him. His head fell against the ground.
They were right. This wasn't him. What had he been doing? What was he expecting
to accomplish on his own? He needed his friends. He had to calm down. This was
not the way leaders behaved. They didn't let fury cloud their vision. They
didn't leave their most trusted companions behind. Peeta Mellark had never done
that, and he wouldn't now.
"Take care, Peet," Finnick said. "It's clear what Snow's planning."
Yes, it was. Snow knew that Peeta was going to find out about the execution.
The king expected him to show up and try to save Katniss. If Peeta stormed the
palace too soon, or did anything until His Majesty stopped believing he was
coming, Peeta would lose the upper hand. He would have to wait until it
appeared as though he wasn't taking the bait. Which meant he'd have to endure
to the final second, right before they killed Katniss.
"He's making that face. He's thinking," Gale said.
Finnick lifted his palm, allowing Peeta to speak. "You can let me go now. I
won't fight." They released him, and he sat up, brushing himself off and
leveling Johanna with a glare. "You mean as much to me as anyone in this gang.
I want you with us, but I also want your tongue in check or I will grind it
into the floor when this is over."
Johanna's expression wavered, then softened petulantly. "I love you. And I hate
that she hurt you."
He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him, pressing
their foreheads together, remembering the first time he met her, the first time
she made Gale laugh. "Thank you for that, but I can't do this without you."
Johanna swallowed and whispered, "Alright."
They broke apart.
"Well boy," Abernathy said. "You better not have another relapse once you get
into the palace. I have a right mind not to believe a thing I heard about you.
I'm hoping you prove me wrong."
Peeta nodded. "As am I, Abernathy."
"Bah. Don't call me that. I'm no minion. I go by Haymitch and nothing else.
I'll tell you right now, your sweeting isn't going to be happy you turned out.
She doesn't want to put you in danger. If she finds out, she might do something
foolish and downright reckless like jump into that noose faster than you can
shoot. So keep out of her line of vision. I'm curious, boy. How many lifetimes
would you have to lead to deserve her? Or her you?"
"Right now, we only have one."
"Good answer. So make it count and stay alive."
Peeta had the feeling that if they'd met in different circumstances, Haymitch
would be providing more than his share of tips regarding Katniss. The man
understood her well. "Tell me what you know, Haymitch."
The older man gave them an account of the king's doubts about Katniss. It
grieved Peeta to hear how Snow had poisoned her in order to have her medically
examined. His Majesty might have assumed she was taken advantage of, having
initially been a captive. However, Snow had already been suspicious about her
role in the escape, and she would have never helped a man who'd defiled her. By
the time the physician was called in, it was easy for the king to guess she'd
been a willing participant in the loss of her virginity. The way she'd
conducted herself during his final interview with her solidified it for him. He
ordered Katniss to be taken to a cell to await punishment, and her family was
expected to watch. Snow would have his public show, after all.
"They're not revealing the intimacies of Lady Everdeen's conduct to the world,
only that she helped you get away," Haymitch said. "That peacock, Seneca, is
not eager to be labeled a cuckold before he's even been labeled a husband. He'd
rather save face. The only reason I know about the scandal is I overheard Lady
Primrose telling Rue."
Peeta hated that anyone besides himself and Katniss knew of their lovemaking at
all. Their relationship wasn't for public consumption. But he didn't hold it
against her that she'd confessed the details to her sister or Rue. They'd been
there for her when he could not.
"Wait. By the by, how did you find our new camp?" Peeta asked the small girl.
She blinked. "I'm Rue," she answered, as if that explained everything.
"This sprite can find anyone. If Snow had employed her, you would all be in the
dungeon by now," Haymitch said.
Peeta knew that his old self would have chuckled at this and then said
something charming to Rue. He missed that part of himself. He wanted it back.
The group returned to their camp and tossed ideas back and forth until they'd
fully choreographed a rescue. Halfway through the night, they dressed in the
royal guard uniforms from their escape—it had been worth it to keep those—and
hustled through the high grasses toward the palace. Peeta knelt and strung his
bow, aiming up at the men standing post along the battlements. He would have to
accomplish the impossible numerous times over. He'd have to locate the chinks
in their armor and hit them quietly, in the dark, once they were close enough
to the edge of the walkway but not too close, as he couldn't have soldiers
toppling over and splashing into the moat. But if there was one thing that had
never failed him, it was his gift of sight. Since he could remember, he'd
always been able to see things from a distance that many had deemed impossible
to see. It had scared him as a child, but now he was grateful for it.
A metallic taste infested into Peeta's mouth. Just as in the escape, he was
going to have to kill people. He'd always tried to avoid this, but there was no
chance to succeed otherwise. Not against Panem's stronghold. And yet. He'd been
having nightmares about the last men he'd taken down, their families, their
children. He feared these next hours would turn him into someone he wasn't,
someone who caused pain without remorse. Another piece in Snow's game.
He needed to rise from this intact, recognizable. If not, he would lose
everything.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to each man patrolling the wall, watching as they
fell under the tips of his arrows, barely registering the narrow, whistling
sound.
It took hours to clear the battlements surrounding the castle, but Peeta was
determined that only he would strike the men down. His gang had never
intentionally felled men before, and he wasn't about to force such a burden on
his friends. Once the battlements were cleared, Peeta was met with silence from
his band. He turned to them and discovered shadowy expressions of awe and pity
directed at him. No one said a word. Death was nothing to rejoice over.
Dawn was approaching by the time they were able to make their second move. At
the drawbridge, Haymitch offered himself as a diversion, sauntering up to the
guards and picking a fight, stumbling around like he was drunk. Once he'd
gotten their attention, and earned an unfortunate blow to the stomach, Finnick
and Thresh jumped the guards from behind while Haymitch took their weapons. In
the entanglement, Thresh took a slash to his thigh and Finnick to his shoulder.
They bandaged the wounds as best they could and didn't complain, even though
Peeta knew they had to be suffering. While being dragged into the gatehouse,
the warriors thrashed about, their cries blotted by the cloak material wedged
into their mouths.
Again, Peeta fought down that metallic taste as everyone hiked up the gatehouse
stairwell, emerging onto the castle's surrounding wall. And again, Peeta
apologized to the guards' lifeless faces. His band and Haymitch spread out and
positioned themselves along the remaining stretch of the battlements.
At the area above the executioner's block, Peeta pointed across the way to an
open tower stretching high above them into the sky. "What is that?" he asked
Rue.
"The chapel's bell tower," she said.
When she told him that no one manned the bell at night, he pulled a length of
rope from his pack and instructed her to steal into the tower, then wait for
his arrow.
"But it's dark," she said. "How will you know when I'm there, or where to
shoot? Or if I grabbed the arrow?"
"I'll see," he promised. And he did, and he trusted the girl to tie the slack
into the most secure knot possible, enough to hold his weight for when he swung
himself onto the platform.
The group took their places at intervals along the wall, pretending to patrol
the castle. After spectators began to gather, the plan was for Gale and Thresh
to descend into the courtyard and secure a spot near the block, near Katniss.
Until then, they waited. Peeta sunk to his knees, shut his eyes, and lightly
beat the tail of an arrow against his forehead, the threads of the feathers
caressing his skin. His stomach rolled. When next he fired, he couldn't miss.
He remembered her in the lake, her scowl, her ecstasy, her tears. She'd clung
to him as if he had the answers. Everything that had happened in the water had
happened by accident. She'd tried to resist playing with him, the same way
she'd tried to resist him by the fire pit on the night he finally took her.
Except for that first attempt to jump on him and kiss him, not once had she
ever thrown herself at Peeta or deliberately attempted to seduce him.
She hadn't been fixing to stab him in the heart. Her emotions had been
unplanned but real. And he'd been a fool. He'd been lying to himself. She'd
confessed, and all he'd seen was Delly, and all he'd felt was fear.
When the sun rose and the courtyard filled—peasants in the rear, aristocracy in
the front—Peeta stood. They brought Katniss out. Swollen and purple and
bloodied and stumbling. They'd beaten her. She kept her chin high, but Peeta
saw what others couldn't. His eyes narrowed, peering across the block and
landing her hands, shackled behind her back. They were shaking.
The sight made Peeta's chest contract, and he had to grip the stone wall and
squeeze.
Seneca claimed a seat on the platform, evidently wanting to have an unhampered
view of his fiancée's death. He sneered, validated. King Snow rose from his
chair in a balcony overlooking the scene and called out Peeta's name, saying
things he could not register. In response to His Majesty's speech, Katniss's
eyes skipped across the crowd. Relief and devastation marred her features.
She's looking for me.
She stepped onto the wooden block. They secured the noose around her neck. A
single cry carved through the air, coming from the blond girl who must be Lady
Everdeen's sister.
Peeta set his arrow, hating that rope, because that rope was the enemy, because
that rope was also his lifeline. Puffing out gust of air, he lifted the bow,
focused on the cord hanging from the scaffold. His palms moistened. His fingers
quaked, and he had to pause to steady them. Then, for no reason at all, the
king's voice finally reached Peeta, gonging loud and clear in his head. It
stayed his hand. His eyes shifted between His Majesty and Katniss,
understanding dawning on him. It would never end. After rescuing her, Snow
would still find a way. He would always find a way. If Peeta didn't lose her
now, he might later. Or after that. Or after that. His home would suffer, and
so would he.
Gripping his bow, Peeta concentrated on his target.
"I love you, Katniss," he whispered, and then fired.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Katniss
They'd let Seneca do it. When they brought me to the dungeon and chained me to
the wall, the prince had been there, bent on shaping my last day to his liking.
He'd enjoyed every moment of contact between us as he beat me. His knuckles
cracking against my face. His boot ramming into my side. His words. "You gave
yourself to that filthy little rebel, did you?"
With my hands and ankles bound by hard, cold iron, I'd had only my teeth. I'd
bitten him in the cheek but regretted it afterward. Thankfully, I'd fallen
unconscious at some point.
Now, he was here, not a few paces from me, as if to assure me in his own
pathetic way that he planned on following me to the afterlife. Worse than that,
they were making my sister and father watch. I'd had them promise they would
close their eyes. I could not bear them taking this image back to The Seam. At
least, Peeta hadn't come. It wrenched my heart to know that he cared so little,
had buried himself in his anger. However, his absence was also a blessing.
Whatever the king did to me now couldn't penetrate as much. I'd gone numb. My
fingers shook, but the rest of me had gone numb.
The thick noose scratched my neck. The block beneath my feet rattled, signaling
it was about to happen. I closed my eyes and saw his. And I followed the blue,
letting it take me, wondering if I might meet Finnick's Annie wherever I was
going, and that made me happy, because we could miss our men together.
"Peeta Mellark!" The king called out, his words echoing through the castle.
"We're not fooled by your silence, boy. Show yourself to the world like a good
and surrounded criminal. Your lovely friend would like to say goodbye—"
A thin, whistling sound that I recognized flew toward me. Maybe to kill me?
Maybe Peeta had come to put me out of my misery himself? Maybe he'd thought to
be generous? But no, it passed me, soared right by. Whizzing. Whizzing.
Followed by a grunt from above.
I waited, and waited, and waited. I wondered if it was already over. Was death
truly this merciful? I dared open my eyes, trailed the direction of the
audience's froze gazes, and craned my head up. Snow had risen to his feet in
the balcony, confusion and wonder twisting his features. He leaned forward and
offered us all a glimpse of the arrow sticking out of his chest, before
plummeting over the side of the balustrade and landing on the platform, rocking
the surface.
Silence hit the courtyard like a slap to the face. The guards who'd been chosen
to carry out my demise stood rooted to their spots, staring at the king as if
they expected him to resurrect himself. It was as though we'd all witnessed a
magic trick we failed to comprehend.
Then the mob erupted. I struggled to make sense of it, my vision blurry, unsure
if I was dreaming or having a nightmare or something in between. People
shrieked, the upper and lower classes flooding together to create a hysterical
mass. Some rejoiced, shouting and chanting, making for the king's body as if to
steal it. Others, mostly members of the peerage, fought them, pushing back to
keep them from reaching His Majesty. The guards forgot me and jumped into the
stampede. Peasants rammed into guards, wrestling them for their weapons.
Livestock got loose, emitting their own traumatic noises.
Prim. Papa.
I gazed wildly around but couldn't find them, fearing they'd gotten sucked into
the rushing river of the fray. If I moved, I could lose my balance and fall off
the block and hang nonetheless. That's when I noticed a number of bodies
attempting to reach me, rich-looking faces aiming to finish the job, poor faces
trying to stop them. Clenching my teeth, I struggled to break my own wrist and
slip it through the shackles.
Another whistling sound—very similar to one of Peeta's arrows—and I landed on
the platform, the rope falling around me like a snake.
But then Seneca yanked me to my feet, hissing into my face, "Let's see him try
to find you."
Him?
The prince dragged me across to the opposite side of the platform, in the
direction of the keep. Gasps alerted us, and we peered up to see a figure leap
off the battlement and swoop through the air, supported by a cord and heading
straight toward us. His shape grew larger and larger, his blond hair
highlighted by the sun, a pack of arrows strapped across his back. He landed on
the platform on all fours, eyes scanning the crowd before fixing on us. A
moment of recognition. He launched himself across the dais.
Seneca wretched me away, evading the courtyard mania and hauling me toward the
chapel. Already, we heard people hollering, "Find the prince." An outright
rebellion had ensued. I was not about to stand aside and let the rest of Panem
do the work. As Seneca hustled me down an arched hallway, I used all my weight
to smash him into the nearest wall and trip him. We rolled around, my legs
flailing to find purchase on any part of him I could damage, but he was too
big, overtaking me and hammering my shoulders into the stone floor.
Peeta's voice burst down the corridor, roaring my name. My mouth split open to
answer, but Seneca covered it. "Came back to be a rebel hero, did he? Decided
saving his whore meant killing my father? Clever fellow. Let's see how clever
he is when—" The prince's head jerked forward, his eyes rolled into his head,
and he collapsed on top of me.
Rue popped into my line of vision, holding a club that was much bigger than her
pixie frame. "I think he's asleep now." She dropped the club, brandishing my
bow and arrows, which hung off her shoulder—she must have retrieved it from my
room—and then wiggled a set of keys. I planted kisses all over her face as she
began to unlock the restraints on my wrists.
"Katniss!"
I glanced up in time to see Peeta appear around the corner, barreling toward
me, then getting cut off by one of the guards. Brutus. Despite Peeta's broad
chest and strength, the other man towered over him, no doubt remembering the
gang's ambush on his men in the forest and resenting the notorious thief for
it. They collided in a tangle of fists. A sword lifted and swooped downward,
and Peeta crumpled, his blood splattering the ground.
A silent scream worked its way up my throat but lodged itself there, choking
me. I surged to my feet, and Rue tossed me my bow and arrow. Catching it, I
strung my weapon, aware that I had no time to reach Peeta. But I would not lose
him. I refused to lose him.
Brutus raised his sword again, and I aimed and shot the blade out of his hand,
sending it clanging to the floor. He stumbled, giving Peeta the advantage as he
plowed head-first into the man's middle, sending him flying backward. Punching
Brutus into unconscious, Peeta rose, swaying, placing one hand on the wall and
the other on the gash at his side. Lifting his head, he saw me, a look of
surprise on his face as he registered the bow in my hand.
In the midst of the chaos, we stared. That face so sweet in my memory, those
blue eyes that no disguise could possibly conceal, the sight of him familiar
and yet new.
And then we sprinted toward each other, our bodies colliding at a halfway point
and clinging. He crushed me to him, lifting me slightly off my feet. I inhaled
that cinnamon and leaves smell, and I felt those arms, those arms I'd believed
I would never touch again, and he freed me after I'd seen no way out, and I
realized how unbreakable hope could be, and he was my hope. And a thousand
moments surged through me.
"You're hurt," he panted into my neck.
"You are, too," I said, pulling back and drinking him in.
Peeta eyed my weapon and smiled weakly. "Not terrible."
If he wasn't injured, I would have laughed at his reference to our first
hunting lesson. "I can take you."
He thumbed my cheek, leveling me with a tender expression. "You already have."
For an instant, we remained as we were, then we carried on. Along with Rue, we
ran back into the battle and hopped up on the platform. Side-by-side, we strung
our arrows and fired on the guards, helping the people of Panem win back their
kingdom, then watching in the end as every peasant left standing turned to us.
And offered a three-fingered salute.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     Thank you to Court81981 for giving me the idea for the tree house (a
     little RH movie inspiration)!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
Katniss
Joy. That was the most suitable word to describe the mood that swept through
Panem. Over the prevailing weeks, the kingdom changed in ways not previously
imagined. The villagers prospered, were fed and given ample shelter, clothing,
firewood, and medicine.
In and around the palace, everything seemed lusher. A courtyard fountain was
installed, swelling with water that the children swatted at for hours at a
time. Dark draperies were exchanged in the castle for cheerful yellow ones.
Snow was gone. Seneca had been banished, most likely seeking refuge with one of
his siblings. In spite of their existence, the consensus regarding the two
elder sons was that they wouldn't try to reclaim the throne. Cato should have
been crowned, but he'd been well known to despise his father and harbored no
love for Panem itself. As for Marvel, his cowardice had never been a secret.
The original guards who'd managed to survive the rebellion had been retained.
They'd been innudated recruiting droves of men, and it was quickly becoming
apparent that they were still a dominable force, especially under the guidance
of their new ruler.
As next in the line of succession, the Duke of Heavensbee was decreed the
future monarch, an opportunistic figure whose generosity was motivated more by
ego than earnestness, for he dearly loved being worshiped. Nevertheless, the
man supported his people, was rumored to have a keen understanding of battle,
and established a repertoire with the new army.
Heavensbee also treasured Peeta's counsel. Not only had he helped win the
uprising, but he and the duke came from the same area of the country, with His
Grace's lands bordering Peeta's old village. Heavensbee regularly held court
with Peeta, interviewing him on matters of combat and weaponry. This factor
also contributed to the conclusion that Snow's sons wouldn't risk their necks
coming near Panem: Peeta Mellark and his gang, the kingdom's own legend, and
now heroes, were assiting in the army's training.
Peeta.
Since the fall of Snow, we hadn't touched or been alone. I sensed how much he
wanted to approach me, make himself available, but I turned away each time. If
he were to come too close to me, I feared I would break.
Because I still hadn't recovered from my father's death.
During the rebellion, he'd fought to protect Prim from the stampede of
citizens, accidentally pushing himself into the path of a soldier's sword.
After that day, I had no time to think about myself, concentrating only on my
sister, who needed me to hold her at night as she sobbed herself into
exhaustion. I would allow no one else to comfort her. I would allow no one to
breach the bubble we'd created. Not even Peeta.
It went on like this for weeks. The kingdom rejoicing, my family in mourning.
My sister and I shutting ourselves off to merriment and spending our evenings
in solitude and reminiscence, sometimes whispering, sometimes not speaking at
all. The only event we attended was Heavensbee's coronation, which turned him
into a king from one moment to the next. His Majesty insisted we stay in the
palace as his guests until we'd mended. We didn't object. Neither of us wanted
to see The Seam so soon after.
I believed Heavensbee also wanted me to show me off at a celebration he was
planning, to mark the beginning of a new era in Panem. He'd chosen a date when
the kingdom would be fully settled.
It was Rue who finally broke Prim from her despair. One evening, as I shuffled
toward my chamber, I passed my sister's room and heard giggling outside the
door. Rue was telling Prim a funny story involving the gamekeeper and a fleet
of partridge. I listened to my sister's fragile laughter, and then left the
girls alone.
It was the first night in ages I spent by myself. I didn't like it. I fell into
a trance, staring at the hearth, staying that way until morning. In the great
hall, Peeta caught my eye as I walked into breakfast, noting my laborious gait.
He and his gang sat on one side of Heavensbee, for the king had also insisted
they stay until the grand celebration. On the other side sat members of his
court, as well as Prim and I.
"I'm sorry I didn't come to you last night," Prim said, sullen and guilty.
"I'm glad you didn't," I said. "I'm happy you've made a friend in Rue."
During the meal, I felt the weight of Peeta's gaze. After, as I raked my chair
back to stand, he passed me, and I paused, as I so often did in proximity to
him. I may not have given him leave to seek me out, but whenever he was close,
I always stopped what I was doing.
His footsteps slowed when he reached me. "Leave your chamber unlocked tonight,"
he murmured and then left the hall.
That evening, I did as he requested, burying myself under a mountain of
blankets, the fire from the hearth warming my toes. I'd been longing for him
all this time but hadn't dared permit myself the comfort.
The sigh of the door opening and closing cut through the silence. I squeezed my
pillow but kept my back to him, listening as he moved across the room, filling
the space with that distinct rhythm of his. The mattress sunk under his weight,
and he slid over until his chest hit my back, that scent of bark and cinnamon
relaxing me. His breath beat against my neck. Without hesitation, Peeta slipped
his arms around me, holding tight while I watched the light from the flames
illuminate the golden hairs on his skin, my braided Seam bracelet secured
around his wrist. My eyelids shut as his hands glided over me.
"You can let go now," he whispered.
So I did. The restraint of the past weeks, my silence, my own grief, unleashed
from my stomach, spiraled up my neck, and poured from my mouth. My body shook,
but Peeta held me. My sobs rung through the chamber, but Peeta held me.
I missed my father so much. But Peeta held me.
And then I slept and slept and slept, at one point rolling over and snuggling
into his chest. When the sun rose, I was rested. And Peeta was gone. But he
returned again late that evening, and in the dark, we revealed secrets.
Me: "I've thought about drowning myself, but I couldn't be like my mother and
abandon Prim."
Him: "I was relieved when the typhus finally took my parents. I hated watching
them deteriorate."
Me: "All the women in court talk about are fashion and scandals and you.
Yesterday, I spilled that wine on my dress on purpose, just to get away from
them."
Him: "I've been feeding my helpings of bread to Heavensbee's cat beneath the
table."
Me: "Cats don't find me agreeable. Felines eat bread?"
Him: "They do if the loaves have the consistency of leather. And his cat is
strange, so maybe it will like you."
We fell into a routine, glancing at one another briefly during the day, with me
offering passing looks of gratitude, him responding with a kind expression. At
night, he snuck into my room. One time, as we lay on our sides, facing each
other, Peeta confessed that he missed the forest.
"Why did you choose to live there?" I asked.
"I guess I felt closer to my parents being in the woods. I met Gale there
first, when he tried stealing a rabbit from my camp. I offered to share it with
him, but he told me of a hungry family in the village. So we brought the rabbit
to them, and that's when I realized they weren't the only peasants in need of
food, money. I began to devise a plan on how to get those things to them."
"So you have Gale to thank," I said.
"I thank him every day, he just doesn't know it. Taking care of the cottagers
was like taking care of my parents in a way I never could."
"Would they have approved of your methods?"
He laughed. "No."
I laughed, too.
I taught him how to whistle, but I struggled to keep a straight face because he
was never on key. He taught me how to draw mockingbirds. I wasn't very good at
it, yet his teasing distracted me from my self-consciousness. Gradually, I
found myself looking forward to those nights for reasons beyond solace. Unlike
the frenzied pace in which we'd grown together in the forest, this period was
different.
Everything escalated one morning when I awoke and discovered Peeta still
asleep, hair tousled, lashes long and fluttering, hand curled beneath his chin.
I traced the outline of his jaw, and suddenly that hunger that overtook me in
the lake, in the camp, in his bed, came rushing back. I began wanting things I
hadn't thought about in so long. Wanting other parts of him to connect with
other parts of me.
"I have another confession," I whispered, although I knew he couldn't hear me
in his dream state. "When we were apart, I used think of you...and make myself
feel good."
His lids snapped open, and I shrank back, my face suffusing with heat. He'd
been awake.
He stared, observing my humiliation, blue eyes darkening for an instant, then
glinting. "How good?"
I whacked him with my pillow, and he chuckled, and I hit him again. He grabbed
his own pillow, and we lurched up onto our knees and surged into a battle,
pounding at the other until we toppled over in hysterics, Peeta's body covering
mine. The reality of his torso crushed against me produced a shift in
atmosphere. I sucked up my giggles. So did he.
Peeta tried to pull away, but I clung to him instead.
He winced. "I won't hurt you."
"I know that," I said, confused. "How would you hurt me?"
He asked me what happened with Seneca, a subject that seemed to have been
plaguing him, but that he wasn't sure I'd wanted to discuss until now. At
first, I couldn't conceive of what he meant, but then I noted the repressed
fury in his blue eyes. He thought Seneca had taken advantage of me in the cell.
The prince hadn't, but that didn't dismiss the pain he'd caused with his fist.
"Seneca didn't touch me that way," I said.
"He still hurt you," he said, smoothing my hair, his features remorseful. "I
wasn't there."
"Stop. You're here now."
I hoped he saw in my expression what I suddenly wanted from him. And how
desperately.
"Peeta..."
Unconsciously, his hips dug between my thighs, grinding slightly. We both
hissed, and I recalled the last time we'd been like this, only without clothes.
He did it again. And again, his movements shallow, my leg hooking over his
backside. He brushed his lips against my collarbone, then dragged them along my
neck. Our hands drifted, breaths thickened with curiosity. Each time we came
close to kissing, we pulled back, concentrated on a different form of contact,
prolonging the moment.
A whimper curled from my mouth, but then someone knocked on the door. Peeta
flew off me.
"Lady Everdeen. Up this instant, please!" Effie chimed.
Peeta hid in the closet, waiting as my chaperone and Rue fussed over me until I
was presentable for breakfast. While they guided me out of the room, all I
could think about was continuing my physical exploration of Peeta that night.
But he didn't return. Nor did he return the night after that. Like Prim, he'd
suddenly ended his visits with me. The wanting drove me mad. Yet based on the
lingering looks he gave me whenever we crossed paths, the feeling was mutual. I
couldn't deny the thrill of our stolen glances.
As to the reason he'd ceased spending his evenings in my chamber, and why
neither of us pursued one another, I had an idea. One I loathed to dwell on.
Beyond the ardor, reluctance often seemed to contort his features. Now that the
fervor of our reunion, the rebellion, and my subsequent grief had waned, it
became easier to see things from a more composed perspective. And let original
feelings settle in. Feelings like anger.
Was he still cross with me over my deceit? Perhaps our heated touches had
reminded him of our last bout of intimacy and the confession that had followed.
I longed to question him, but I was afraid of the answer.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
On the morning of Panem's celebration, I resumed archery practice. The fog
spread like a yawn across the gardens. Although it would make shooting
difficult, I welcomed the challenge. I enjoyed vanishing, preventing anyone
from finding me. Standing in an open area of the lawn, where I'd set up my
shooting range, I relocated the marker to a managable distance, took my
position, and set my bow, sucking the mist into my lungs.
"Higher," a voice said, cracking at the end of the word.
My pulse drummed. Wheeling around, I playfully aimed my arrow at his chest. He
wore his cloak over a tunic the same shade as his irises, his blond hair like a
halo floating in the gray world.
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
"Higher, what?" I asked.
"Higher, my lady. You'll not hit your mark at that angle."
"As you can see, the bull's eye is no longer my target."
Peeta tossed me that boyish smile. He advanced until the arrow grazed his
chest. He raised his own bow. "Care for a challenge?"
Over and over, we fired at the marker, our arrows landing abreast of each
other, and I felt rather smug. Until his arrow knocked into mine in mid-air,
setting it off course. I huffed, tried the same trick, and failed.
"Moving targets are a different breed of skill, my lady. You'll get there," he
said.
I threw down my weapon. "Don't patronize me."
My outburst surprised us both.
"There's no cause to make me feel weak," I added, unable to help myself.
"I wasn't, but that isn't the point. Your tantrum has nothing to do with
sport," he said, breaking down my features and making me feel positively
transparent. "What's wrong, my lady?"
My temper rose further. "My name is Katniss."
It hurt that he'd become so formal.
He took my hand, causing my balance to falter. "Come with me, Katniss."
It was impossible to argue, no matter how much I still wanted to. We took his
horse and rode through the east gate, the remnants of the fog protecting us. I
wrapped my arms around his middle and nestled my face between his shoulder
blades. Peeta took us into the woods, then tethered the horse and guided me to
a place I recognized. Our hunting spot by the lake.
"Ready for another lesson?" he asked.
Just like that, I forgot to be vexed. We tracked down a doe. However, it was so
skittish that Peeta had to coach me to be patient. Catching a moment in which
the animal paused, I lined up my shot, but then another obstacle emerged. In
the form of a buck, who appeared out of nowhere and proceeded to mount the
female. My jaw came unhinged. I couldn't possibly fell a creature in the midst
of mating.
Peeta was equally startled. We glanced at each other, and then began to laugh.
My hand covered my mouth, but keeping it in was futile and unnecessary. Peeta
was the first to stop, his grin dissolving and smothering my own giggles.
A heartbeat. A gust of wind.
We dropped our bows at the same time and grabbed one another, our mouths
connecting hungrily. He walked me backward, pressing me into a tree, the impact
dislodging a moan from my throat. My fingers climbed up his neck and threaded
into his hair, urging him closer.
The kiss exploded. His arm slipped around my waist while his free hand cupped
my head, securing me against him. That moist, smooth, male tongue probed my
mouth, and nothing had ever felt better than the pillowy touch of his lips.
It was Peeta who pulled back first. Panting, he kissed me again, this time more
slowly, drawing his tongue across my bottom lip. He inched away and said, "I've
been wanting to do that for so long."
"Why haven't you?" I breathed. "Why did you stop coming to me?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to stop, but I also didn't want to ruin it by getting
ahead of myself. We're from different classes. The people may love us now, but
you know even better than I what it can be like."
I understood. I was a Baron's daughter. Peeta had been born into poverty and
was a criminal-turned-hero. Despite the liberation, the people hadn't
disregarded the social rules ground into them. I had to admit, I'd considered
that, too.
"I thought it best to be patient and get a sense of how others might treat us,"
Peeta said, toying with my braid. "I also didn't want to reveal that we favored
one another so soon after the rebellion—people might question when we'd had
time to grow close. They would question your time in the forest."
And thus question my reputation.
He finished, "I wasn't even sure if you really wanted…what I could offer. I
thought I would give you time to decide."
Relief washed over me. Here, I'd thought Peeta still resented me, when really
he'd been thinking of my well-being, my free will. Giving the kingdom time so
that it wouldn't be surprised by our connection.
"It was never about me," he said. "I didn't want anyone shunning you, making it
hard for you to be accepted. You have enough to suffer from. Many of the
nobility aren't happy with me for stealing from them for so long. If they
accept me, it's only through Heavensbee's influence. Any thing more than that
will take time. But I don't care about myself—"
"I don't care about me, either," I said. "I don't care about that."
But I did care about something else. Something I dared not say.
The concern melted from him. "May I show you one more thing?"
He took me a little further into the forest, at one point covering my eyes and
guiding me the rest of the way. Then he lifted his palms from my face. "Look
up."
I tipped my head back and gasped. Tucked into the tangle of branches was a
large tree house, with its own window and an iron-banded closure to blot out
the wind. It hovered above Peeta's old camp. The fire pit. The outdoor oven.
He said from behind, "This is also why I've been busy. Finnick, Gale, and
Thresh helped. Johanna, too. And some of the villagers." He sounded self-
conscious. "I didn't know if you were going back to The Seam. But I thought
you'd like to have a place by the lake, in case…"
It was beautiful. I didn't know what to say.
"Do you want to see inside?"
I nodded. Instead of a ladder, Peeta secured us onto a rope pulley, holding
onto me as we flew into the tree. It made me laugh.
The tree house spanned one vast room, the ceiling high enough to stand in. The
smell of freshly cut wood filled the space. A rug of fur was the only item
decorating the space.
I opened the latch on the window closure and pulled, letting in the breeze. My
finger trailed along the sill, over the rough edges until reaching a smooth
corner. Peeta had built this place without knowing where I wished to remain.
Yet another of his gestures of hope.
I didn't want to return to The Seam, nor Panem's palace.
"This is home." I turned, stared at the boy I'd once wanted nothing to do with,
but who knew where I belonged. "Ask me to stay."
Surprise crossed his face, then softened it. He thought about something for so
long that I wondered if I'd asked for too much, too soon.
"If it pleases you," he said.
What I hadn't expected was for him to sink to his knees, take my hands, and
gaze at me so openly. "Katniss, will you have me? Will you have this forest?"
He swallowed. "Will you marry us?"
My palm flattened against the wall, the surface warmed by the rising sun, free
of cracks and splinters. Fear gripped me, swiftly replaced by something kinder,
something precious. Lacking the skill for words, even for a yes, I lowered
myself to his side, once again his equal.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Plump, fleshy fruit swelled from the cornucopias gracing the banquet tables in
the great hall. Candelabras winked. Jewel-hued tapestries hung from the
ceiling. Heavensbee had outdone himself with color for the celebration. I did
my part by spiriting a yellow satin gown, the brightest garment I'd worn since
my father's death. My mood was correspondingly jubilant.
After Peeta had finished kissing me dizzy in the tree house, we'd decided to
wait to reveal ourselves to people, hoping to ease into the announcement. Only
Prim and his gang knew so far. Still, it would be difficult keeping my distance
from Peeta during the festivities. This fact became clear once he walked into
the hall. The court followed Heavensbee's lead, cooing over him and his
friends. Finnick enjoyed being a showpiece. Thresh tolerated the attention.
Gale took pride in their respect, but Johanna glared at any woman who came near
him.
Peeta received the most regard, from females in particular. Even worse was his
own behavior—he complimented and joked. He exhibited that rare talent for
earning people's esteem with few words. No longer did I see that hardened,
wounded boy from the forest. The charming, good-natured soul he'd kept hidden
began to leak through. Unbeknownst to him, his attitude sparked a disturbing
feminine frenzy. Wicked thoughts smeared their faces as he moved about the
room. But then his eyes found me, his gaze caressing the folds of my gown from
hem to neckline, and my jealously faded.
Breaking from the throng, Peeta approached me, and I had a mind to flirt.
"A room doesn't exist until you're in it," he said quietly. "And the gown is
fair, too."
"Flattery," I said.
"Honesty," he corrected.
"Which one do you think I prefer more?"
He grinned, threatening my ability to pay heed to our surroundings. My Seam
bracelet peeked from beneath his sleeve. I imagined promising myself to him.
Soon.
In the far corner, Prim modeled her ice blue dress with glee for Johanna, who
hated having to wear a gown but couldn't help being infected by my sister's
enthusiasm. I wondered what sorts of things they were talking about. Along with
Rue, they seemed to be enjoying themselves.
I couldn't say why, but the celebration felt too perfect. I hated myself for
doubting and sought to squelch it fast.
"I wish I could take you somewhere," I whispered to Peeta, straightening my
shoulders to give the impression of a regal conversation.
He reached behind me and plucked a pear from the cornucopia on the table. "And
what would we do in this somewhere, Katniss?"
I fought the urge to swat at him. "Don't call me that here."
He bit into the pear, and I watched his mouth and throat work together. It
could be so easy to get into trouble in public.
"There you are, you jolly bastard." Finnick sauntered up to us, his skin flush
with as much drink as Sheriff Abernathy, who was already slurring in the
corner.
We moved apart to admit our friend into our confidence.
"None of that." Finnick took the pear and finished it. "I'm not here for long.
Heavensbee has some guests that have requested an audience with Peeta."
Groaning inconspicuously, Peeta excused himself, left me with one more smile,
and then trailed Finnick. The king was engaged in buoyant conversation with a
man...and a striking blond, around my age, dressed in a modest gown that
identified her as one of the servants. Or perhaps a relation to a servant.
Indeed, Peeta hadn't been able to sway His Majesty into inviting the villagers,
for they'd been granted a party in the courtyard. But Peeta had convinced
Heavensbee to allow members of the staff to enjoy the indoor festivities as
much as possible, including the king's favorite servants stationed throughout
his additional estates.
Watching the girl twiddle her thumbs nervously, possessiveness got the better
of me. I moseyed toward where the king stood, planting myself near enough to
shadow the conversation as Peeta and Finnick reached them.
"Ah, Mellark, my boy," Heavensbee thundered. "My humble guests would like an
introduction. I do so love indulging my underlings, you know."
For a monarch, the older man needed a lesson in finesse.
Peeta turned at the same time the blond girl rose from a shaky curtsy. Her face
tilted up and collided with his gaze. She smiled, radiant, like she'd just been
introduced to the most magnificent sunrise.
"Peeta," she said.
I stiffened, marveling that she would address him so informally in a room full
of people. Off to the side, one of the cooks brought out a roast pig and began
sharpening his knife, the noise grating through my ears. Another person's
cutlery clattered against their plate.
Peeta stood speechless. The girl forced a laugh. "Will you not take my hand?
Have you forgotten me already?"
Absently, he took her fingers but continued to hold them mid-air. And I watched
the muscles in his body tense, watched his profile go slack, watched him thumb
the side of his jaw, a private habit that I'd grown fluent in, signaling shock.
"Delly," he whispered.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Notes
     Much gratitude to Dustwriter. And to Ro Nordmann for the lovely
     banner.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Katniss
When I was four years old, I chased butterflies into a wheat field and got
lost. The world was reduced to a directionless canvas of sky so blue it blinded
me, and towering stalks of gold scratching in the wind. The hiss, the whirr of
that wheat, convinced me no other senses existed anymore, masked the
possibility of escape. My life narrowed to that single sound.
I was alone. I believed I always would be.
That's how I felt at this moment in the great hall, looking on as the boy I
loved stared at another. The minstrel music vanished, the clinking of
silverware disappeared, the laughter faded. All I heard was my own rapid
breathing, droning like the wheat field. I felt myself sinking into it. Lost.
Alone.
Even so, I despised myself for being dramatic.
I felt Finnick's hand on my shoulder. A gesture of support. He must have seen
me watching and come to my side, and I knew it was his hand because he had
beautiful nails, pink and polished as seashells. I'd never told him this. I
still couldn't say why. Maybe I didn't want to remind him of the ocean.
Less than a minute must have gone by, yet in that time the stars had winked and
my tolerance had plummeted along with my heart. And somewhere far from here a
couple was getting married, an old man was dying, and a girl was experiencing
her first kiss, maybe in a lake. Immense changes could occur so fast. This
occasion was no different.
True to form, Heavensbee broke the silence, splendidly clueless as to how much
the floor had just slanted beneath everyone's feet. "Now, now, Mellark. No time
to lose your knack for words. I'll have you know, this party isn't over yet."
Delly chuckled, a reaction clearly forged for His Majesty's benefit. Her blue-
eyed gaze roved over Peeta, surveying him from head to toe, perhaps divining
whether he'd changed.
I wouldn't know.
"It's a relief to know our hero has retained his poetic side," she teased,
proof of her and Peeta's matched ability to charm.
Finally Peeta dropped her hand, his expression numbed. He hadn't graced her
with a bow, but this did nothing to alleviate me. If anything his behavior was
more harrowing, because his aloofness meant she still affected him.
"My poetic side comes out only when it suits the mood," he said. "Otherwise,
I'm busy shooting things."
Delly faltered. Heavensbee frowned. I was going to be ill very soon.
"You know my husband, Mr. Crafton, of course." Delly presented a man who'd been
hovering beside her. Handsome in a stately way, with the height to compliment.
The king's words burst into the space. "Crafton is my head footman back at
Heavensbee Manor. I say, I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I hadn't invited my
most prized staff. And he cuts a fine figure. No need to be ashamed of his
person here." Having said his part, Heavensbee excused himself, evidently bored
with the dialogue and moving on to more worthy discussions amongst the nobles.
"My Delly has spoken highly of you, Mr. Mellark." Crafton inclined his head,
his voice as warm as soup, simmering with confidence. He'd won the girl, and he
knew it. Peeta did not intimidate him. "I'm sorry we never had the chance to
meet earlier."
"Believe me, that makes two of us," Peeta responded, dripping enough sarcasm to
dilute every jug of wine in the palace.
The man grinned, which didn't surprise me. Footmen were generally known for
their coolness and confidence. He paid Peeta's comment no mind and placed his
palm on Delly's back.
I felt the pressure of Finnick's own hand guiding me away. I was in danger of
being discovered eavesdropping.
"Peet's in shock," Finnick said. "And he hasn't seen her in a long time. He
needs a moment."
I nodded. It wasn't as though Peeta could introduce me as his betrothed. No one
knew of us besides those we loved. Plus, if Delly's husband could tolerate her
reunion with Peeta, so could I.
Whether or not Johanna could abide the girl was debatable. I saw her near a
candle-lit alcove, squirming to get out of Gale's grasp, no doubt fixing to
pummel Delly. In my heart, I agreed with Johanna, but I resolved not to lower
myself to that level. It would do me no good. All the same, the unladylike
temptation festered in my blood.
Finnick gave me a rueful smile. "Would you like to make him jealous? I'm good
at that."
The best I could do was muster a grin. "There's no need."
"My thoughts exactly. You have more important occupations to fulfill. There is
a certain weapon that you meant to present to Peet tonight, am I correct?" he
asked.
I remembered the new bow and arrow pack I'd commissioned, a gift Heavensbee and
I had planned to bestow on Peeta during this party as a token of gratitude for
his contributions to the people of Panem. I could have sent someone to retrieve
it, but I wanted to do it myself, to be the only one handling this special
task.
I rushed out of the great hall and up to my chamber to fetch it. It was
beautiful, with the lightest of handles and an engraving along the curve. Soft
plums fanned from the arrows' tips. I took my time admiring the contours and
polish. He would love it.
Racing down the spiraling stairs, excitement trilled through me. More so when I
passed the gallery, somewhat of a distance from the great hall, and found him
there, staring out a window into the darkness. He seemed tired, out of place in
this castle. I wondered if he dreamed of the forest.
This was the perfect time to give him his gift. In private. We could replay the
event in the hall afterward, for everyone else to see. I stepped forward, but
then skipped behind a stone column, my body tingling. Delly approached him from
behind, looking wistful and having entered from a second door on the other side
of the gallery. She had the nerve to impose herself on him while her husband
socialized in another room.
I gripped the bow's neck, choking it.
"You always did like windows," she said fondly.
Peeta's shoulders tightened when he realized she was there, but he didn't look
at her. "Some things are easier to see through than others."
Delly wavered. She folded her hands in front of her. "I deserve that."
"Don't make me list what you deserve."
He didn't see it, but I did. She reached up to touch his hair but then stopped
herself. "I heard about you, all the things you've done. I was proud of it."
When he didn't respond, she sighed. "Peeta, I never meant to hurt you. When
Heavensbee invited us here, I wanted so much to make amends." Her voice broke
at the end. Cracked like Peeta's always did, but on her it didn't sound
natural. The defect in her intonation had to do with the emotions she tried to
restrain.
She sidestepped him, cocked her head, studied his profile. "We grew up
together. You can't hide from me. I know that face you're making."
Grasping the extent of their history together, the childhood experiences they
must share, the things she knew and I didn't...well, I'd never felt so
inferior. Or so infuriated. I smoothed over my braid. Peeta loved touching my
braid.
"Say it," she urged.
He whipped around, slamming the window closure shut. "You didn't have to use me
to get to him!"
"I wasn't. Not at first!"
"Oh, no? Is that meant to pacify me?"
They were screaming at each other now.
"It's meant to be the truth!" Delly argued.
"Save your truths for your husband, if that's at all possible."
It looked as if she'd inhaled a year's worth of air. "My father fell ill. I had
four siblings to look after."
"And you didn't think I could help with that?"
"You were a baker's son. Crafton was my best friend and the head footman for a
duke. I had to marry him. My family would be looked after. Medicine for my
father. An opportunity for my brothers to become servants to a peer. You know I
couldn't forfeit that. But I wanted you first. I did!"
He shook his head, furious. "Why did you lie to me then? Why did you say it was
an act? And why the hell are you telling me this now?"
"I wanted you to move on. If you knew how I felt, I feared you wouldn't. That
would have tormented me. I'm telling you this because I owe it to you. It
wasn't fair to lie."
Stung, he twisted away.
Delly pressed her palm to his cheek, and he let her. He let her. She turned his
head so that his eyes locked onto hers. "Peeta..."
From my spot behind the column, I saw his hand ball into a fist.
"Please forgive me," she whispered.
His fist relaxed. His jaw loosened. He thought about something and began to
raise his hand.
He and Delly were from the same place, with the same background, of the same
class. But she was married. And that was my cheek she dared fondle. And those
were my blue eyes. And that was my Peeta.
Stomach twisting, I strung the bow, aimed, and fired. The arrow ripped through
the narrow space between them and stabbed the window closure. Barely missing
Delly's decidedly long nose. She jumped back with a yelp.
Peeta's head jerked in my direction, his eyes widening in surprise.
"How dare you." Delly marched toward me. "Who are you? How dare you
interrupt..." she trailed off once she stood at arm's reach, inventorying the
luxury of my gown, its embellishments, color, and fabric. Classifying me as
nobility.
Peeta stood rooted by the window, evidently bowled over by seeing the two women
in his life in the same room and at a standoff.
"My-my lady," Delly said more gingerly, then gestured at him. "Do you not know
who this is? Who you shot at?"
"I wasn't aiming at him," I countered, unable to recognize the harshness in my
voice.
She gaped. "I don't think you're aware of the consequences of your actions."
Within an instant, I strapped another arrow to my bow and pointed. "I don't
think you're aware of the consequences of standing this close to me."
"Dammit, stop!" Peeta was at my side, renting through his astonishment and
pushing past Delly. My bow lowered once he got in the way. For the first time
since I'd known him, I saw fear looking back at me. Fear and desperation from
the boy who showed none of these things to the world.
He blocked Delly from getting between us, but I didn't have the feeling he was
protecting her from me. Indeed, it seemed he was trying to shut her out of our
quarrel, not wanting her to invade our space, paying her no mind. Alas, I was
too frazzled and confused to be sure.
For all I knew, he'd been about to envelope her before I interrupted. In truth,
I felt certain he'd been about to do precisely that.
"Please," he began. "Hear me—"
I shoved the arrow pack into his chest, so hard and so lopsidedly, that they
scattered to the ground. I threw the bow down as well, then pivoted and ran,
ignoring the sound of my name. For once, he couldn't catch me.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Reaching the highest turret and out of breath, I collapsed. I drew my knees to
my chest, turning myself into a rock, an unbreakable thing. I rolled back and
forth, head bent. The wind whipped my braid around. The air smelled cold. Ahead
of me loomed a dark horizon of hills and valleys, the grainy outline of Peeta's
forest. The glow of torches around the castle provided the only light. Them and
the full moon.
I'd bathed under such a moon. With Peeta, in the water. He'd kissed me for the
first time.
In the gallery, he'd been about to kiss Delly.
I unleashed, knowing my cries would earn me a headache but not caring. He'd
been about to forgive her, so much easier than it had been to forgive me. She'd
forgotten about her husband. Peeta had forgotten about me. I was a dunce. I'd
been naive. It would always be her.
The current took my sobs and swept them out into the vista. No one would hear
me. No one would find me here.
"Katniss?"
Except him.
I shot to my feet, wiping my face with my arm. His silhouette stood a few feet
from me, and I caught the shape of the bow and arrow pack I'd thrown to the
floor, now hanging off his shoulder.
"How did you know where I was?" I demanded.
"I'll always find you," he said.
Even in the darkness, night couldn't dull his blond hair. I hated him for it.
"You're not perfect," I said. "No matter how golden you remain, no matter how
many people praise and follow you. You're not perfect."
He came closer, stopping in front of me, his expression pleading, tender. "I
never believed I was perfect. You think my friends would follow me if I were
unblemished? Perfection is not why people love each other."
Do you love her?
It had always been on my mind. My most imagined reason why he'd ended his
nights with me in my chamber, and even before that. The fear over whether I was
his second choice. We were engaged, yet I wondered.
Peeta set the weapon on the ground. "Katniss, let me explain."
I shook out the folds of my gown, trying to regain my dignity. "There's no
need. I saw everything."
"No, you didn't."
"I wish to be alone."
"No, you don't."
I moved to step around him, but he stopped me. One hand on my shoulder, the
other on my cheek. Involuntarily, my eyes closed at the contact. His touch
would forever do this.
"Oh, my love, your passion leads you to act far too hastily sometimes," he
said.
I reared back and flung my arm out. "What was I supposed to believe?"
"I was talking about the arrow, not your assumptions."
Embarrassment caused me to look away. I'd behaved like a child. There was no
cause to remind me.
"Your assumptions were understandable, though incorrect as well. Nothing was
going to happen," he said softly.
"Only because my arrow came between you!"
"No. I wasn't going to accept her. I was about to push her away."
"Why? You want her."
Peeta looked upset that I would draw this conclusion. He cupped my face,
forcing me to look at him. "When she asked me to forgive her, I was grateful. I
felt release. That's the expression you saw. I wanted only to move her aside
and find you. And then you almost cut off her nose, and I saw you standing
there, fragile and enraged, a little girl and a warrior forged into one person.
I'd never seen anything more beautiful." He thumbed my tears, shook his head
affectionately. "I don't want Delly. I have no designs on her. Katniss, I'm
promising myself to you. Please, don't doubt me."
Even though his words lifted my heart, I planted my feet on the ground,
withdrew from his arms, and migrated to the edge of the turret. I'd been right.
I was a fool, but not because of the reasons I'd thought. I'd flown into a fit
and nearly severed a body part from Delly Cartwright's head. Because I'd
assumed the worst, without trusting him, and then without giving him a chance
to refute my accusations. I'd acted recklessly. Had been doing thus ever since
I met Peeta Mellark.
I wagered he could say the same about me. We had that effect on each other.
"I missed on purpose," I muttered, as if that sufficed to atone for such a
barbaric transgression.
Peeta chuckled. I rolled my eyes, schooling myself not to laugh. As it was, I
deserved to be placed in the stocks.
He advanced on me, the both of us continuing this game of pull and retreat.
"Katniss, pray tell. How does a man know which woman he wants?" Seeing me
hedge, he added, "Don't think. Answer."
"He wants the woman he can say anything to."
Peeta pretended to mull this over. "You."
I couldn't help it. I bit my lip to hide my smile. "He wants the woman who
makes him happy. The one he thinks about when she's not near."
"You."
"The woman who challenges him and comforts him most."
"You."
I believed him. I did. Yet a greedy part of me wanted him to work harder.
"Come here," he murmured.
My finger glided over the ledge, wondering if he could see this with that keen
eyesight of his. I didn't respond, braced myself as nerves popped inside me and
released a flood of warmth.
"Fine," he said, closing the distance.
"Peeta, I—"
He cut me off with his mouth. His supple, searing mouth, and I knitted myself
to him, kissing back. The breeze beat at our clothes, beat the misgivings out
of me. His lips brought me back to the lake, his tent, where we belonged
together, and it was real.
He spoke against my mouth. "I'm so in love in with you."
And I tasted hope.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Peeta
He tasted her. Katniss's tongue, trembling and ravenous, lapped against his,
and it was like tasting wildflowers and embers from a fire. He wanted to pull
her down and make love to her right there, at the castle's highest point. To
make her scream his name. To brand it within her throat. Inside her. Where he
belonged.
Peeta groaned when she pressed his hands to her bodice, urging him to tug at
the lacing until he freed her breasts and they swelled in his hands. His
fingers traced their shape, the softness that tapered into hard peaks. She
sighed, her head falling back as he took one in his mouth, devouring her at a
leisurely pace, then switching to the other side, his lips drowsily combing
over her skin, then returning to kiss her once more.
"I want you—" he began.
"I want you, too."
"I don't want to stop."
"Neither do I...but..." Katniss dropped her head against his chest. "It's
freezing."
He burst out laughing. The chill calmed his body down. Reluctantly, he
refastened her bodice and then retrieved the bow and arrow. "Was this for me?"
"It was supposed to be a gift," she said.
Peeta revolved the bow in the beam of moonlight and ran his finger along the
letters embedded on the curve: Legend. He grinned and thanked her. Because the
weapon was magnificent, and because he knew she'd chosen the engraving.
"I meant to present it to you tonight, but then..."
But then she saw him with Delly. Peeta's jaw clenched. He hated seeing Katniss
hurt, especially when he was the cause. Understanding what he needed to do, he
took her hand and wordlessly led her down the turret stairwell, across the
courtyard, into the keep, and into the great hall. Back to the sights and
sounds of celebration.
Katniss stayed quiet until she realized they were heading toward Heavensbee and
Delly.
"Peeta, what are you...we can't interrupt," Katniss said. "She's speaking with
His Majesty. He might have requested her."
"So much the better," Peeta said.
He caught the tail end of the discussion, which explained why Delly had even
acquired a private audience with the king. "I have no idea where Peeta is,
sire. I saw him earlier, but he disappeared and ran after a disagreeable
maiden. She had the nerve to..." Delly noticed them coming, a look of
repentance on her face, then bafflement as her gaze landed on his hand laced
with Katniss's.
Heavensbee balked, probably more from the speed at which Peeta invaded their
conversation than the impertinence of it. The action was enough to steal the
entire hall's attention.
"Oh, fie," the king pouted, gesturing at the bow. "You've already been given
your prize. Lady Everdeen, I have a mind to scold you. We meant to do that in a
grand fashion. Otherwise, what's the point?"
"I've received a better prize. The giver herself. You see, I recently asked
Lady Everdeen an important question." Peeta gently tugged Katniss in front of
him. "And she said yes."
Silence prevailed over the hall. In the background, his gang pelted him with
smirks from various corners of the room. Johanna in particular.
Shock flickered over Delly's features, a twinge of sadness that admittedly cut
at Peeta because she truly had wanted him once, and in spite of everything he
wished her no ill. He did not announce this to pain her. He did this to show
that he'd recovered, and she no longer needed to harbor guilt. Or any other
hopes.
Social protocol dictated that His Majesty be the first to speak, but his mouth
kept flapping emptily. So Delly boldly took the initiative. She wrestled up a
smile that seemed controlled by invisible strings, turning her into a
marionette. "I'm happy for you."
"Well, I say, I say, I say." Heavensbee clapped, catapulting into laughter.
Like the twist of a lock, it unfastened the guests from their stupor and they
applauded along with him. "It's an irregular union, but I'm not allergic to
gossip. The hoopla alone is worth the trouble. We'll have visitors from all
over the country. You are lucky you're luminaries at the moment. Hence, I give
my blessing."
Once the king finished yammering about a ceremony Peeta had no intention of
letting him control, His Majesty sauntered off to further rely his thoughts on
the matter to the rest of the aristocracy. Delly loitered, not knowing what to
do with herself.
Peeta squeezed Katniss's hand and whispered, "Will you give us a moment?"
Her frown created two adorable creases between her brows, reminding him there
were so many things about her that he'd yet to discover. But she was stubborn
like him. So he mouthed, "I love you."
And she smiled. He laughed inwardly when she retreated to Johanna's side of the
room, as though an unspoken alliance had been formed between them in the past
hour.
Delly's quivering voice tore him from his thoughts. "Why her?"
That's how it was, he thought. That was Delly. Asking another man a personal
question while her husband, Crafton, talked Haymitch's ear off in the corner.
She'd always been indiscreet. Giddy and grumpy to an artless degree. He'd once
been amused by that. Part of him still was, but not with the same affection.
When he first saw her in the great hall, he'd plummeted headfirst back into
that cave, that tangle of memories. He thought the past year in the forest had
been a dream, and it had scared him. Immediately, he'd wanted to return to the
present and all the people in it. And so anger had become the vehicle.
Peeta wasn't angry anymore.
He still hadn't answered her question. Why Katniss? Because she was a girl on
fire, because she hated losing yet enjoying learning, because she straddled the
lines between grace and fierceness, naivety and cunning, vulnerability and
resolve. Because once, when Thresh asked her to, she sang...and had stolen
Peeta's most valuable possession. His heart.
She was a better thief than he.
"I said before that I know your face," Delly uttered. "You don't have to
answer. I see it."
If he wounded her in some small way, he was sorry. Because she was still the
girl who sewed him a stuffed lion for his seventh birthday, the girl who used
to draw with him as children, the girl who gave him his first fleeting moments
of ardor. Delly embodied his past, but that was all.
She offered Peeta her hand, the both of them sharing one last thing together, a
single private thought.
Goodbye.
Then he let go, and watched her return to Crafton. And Peeta found himself
across the room, his fingers reaching for the girl with the braid. The only
girl.
Hello.
Heavensbee insisted on a betrothal dance. As Gale commandeered a musician's
lute and began to play, Peeta followed Katniss to the center of the hall,
smiling when she glanced at him over her shoulder and winked, aware that he
didn't know the steps. They circled one another carefully, right arms raised,
palms up but not touching, and she whispered when it was time to switch arms
and change direction.
They barely spared the other occupants of the room a second glance.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
Instead of white, she wore a green dress. It was her favorite color, and this
was a forest. They promised themselves to each other in secret, with only their
friends present. Heavensbee could plan his spectacle of a wedding later. Right
now, they only needed the woods and the lake.
Peeta kissed Katniss before the priest said it was time. Or it might have been
Katniss who didn't wait. Peeta actually couldn't tell. They laughed through the
kiss.
Thresh cried. Haymitch swore he'd only have one drink but poured a second glass
because Effie was there. Finnick pushed Gale into the water, then Johanna
pushed Finnick, then Katniss pushed Johanna. Rue and Prim danced.
Peeta watched it all.
Later, back at the old camp, he left Katniss at the fire pit, where she spent a
private moment saying goodbye to her sister. Prim was returning to The Seam
with Haymitch, Effie, and Rue, now Prim's lady's maid and irreplaceable friend.
It made Katniss feel better that Rue would keep Prim company. Haymitch was
given leave to oversee the Everdeen house.
Hearing of his heroics, The Seam had welcomed Gale back, but it wasn't the
woods. Thresh and Finnick had been offered a place in the palace's guard, but
it also wasn't the woods. They and Johanna decided to keep to the new camp
their band had built. All of them, along with Peeta, would serve as defense
liaisons to Heavensbee.
Peeta was also ordained as an ambassador for the villagers, taking matters of
daily concern to the king's court.
As the night wore on, Peeta grew impatient, observing Katniss in her fetching
green gown, a wreath of flowers crowning her loose hair. Her skirt clung to her
waist. She licked a drop of wine from her lips. Dawn was breaking by the time
everyone disappeared in a line of horses. The instant they did, Peeta threw
Katniss over his shoulder and sprinted toward the tree house.
Propping her back onto her feet, he pulled her against him and tugged on the
rope pulley, kissing her on their way up into the branches. Above the ground,
they wasted no time. She walked backward, arm outstretched, tugging on his
fingers. Peeta read her expression.
She wanted something specific. He asked her to tell him.
"Remove your clothes," she said.
Nothing could have enticed him more. He moved slowly, pulling his tunic above
his head and tossing it to the floor, watching as her breathing altered. Then
he unfastened his pants. Unknotting the cords at his waistband produced a soft
grazing sound that filled the space. He prolonged the act as much as possible.
He could see her getting frustrated, which made him grin. So he let the
breeches drop, kicking them away. Then he waited.
Her gaze drifted over him. "Sit on the pallet."
Peeta liked this side of her. Of them.
He did as she requested, and she deftly removed her gown, revealing the pieces
of herself that he'd held in his memory. A sigh misted from his throat when she
straddled him.
"Can I have you?" she asked, reminding him of their first time, his own words.
"Yes."
"Say it."
He reallyliked this side of her.
"Take me, Katniss," he said.
They moaned as she sank onto him, landing fully in his lap and sheathing him
inside her. Her body jolted once, perhaps from the position, or the sudden
connection. He couldn't truly tell how it affected her until she wrapped her
arms around him and buried her face in his neck, and he felt her squeezing her
lids shut. Now, he recognized the gesture. She'd done the same thing in the
lake, after he'd touched her but just before she began to cry.
He reciprocated the hug, gathering her to him. "Katniss, are you alright?"
She remained silent. A moment ago, she'd been blunt about what she wanted.
"Look at me," he said.
She raised her head. Unlike the last time they were together, he knew her
better now. He pressed a finger to her chin, registering what she couldn't say,
but what they both felt. He said it for her. "I've missed this, too."
Katniss smiled. They continued. Eyes locking, she rocked back and forth while
he clutched her backside and guided her movements.
"Tell me how it feels," she panted.
"So...so good."
"And that?" She began circling her hips.
Peeta's flung his head back and issued guttural cries that hit the ceiling. He
was completely at the mercy of her body. This went on and on, making him
delirious, his fingers wandering, discovering the spots she liked. Sensing they
needed more, his hands climbed up her back and hooked over her shoulders,
securing her in place as he increased their rhythm. He beat his hips against
hers, thrusting up and causing her thighs to split wider.
"Oh God, Peeta," she whimpered.
At the spot where they were joined, he burst, and she followed, and they were
loud, and it lasted a long time.
Afterward, they clasped each other, catching their breath, holding on, holding.
Then letting go and falling onto the pallet, where he drew the blanket over
them and did more holding. Katniss lay on her stomach and turned her head to
face him, watching as he traced an arrow up her spine.
Her gaze drifted lower. "I love your hipbones," she said out of nowhere.
"I love your everything."
"I'll allow that."
In a quick move, he yanked her on top of him and flipped them over, his body
filling hers once more. She swiped a lock of hair from his forehead, and Peeta
stared at the simple gold band that he'd slipped onto her finger, glinting in
the early morning light. So unlike the gaudy jewel he'd tried to rob from her
ages ago. And unlike that last ring, this one suited her perfectly.
So perfect he might have to steal it away, just so he could place it on her
finger one more time.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     So months after completing this story, an idea for an epilogue
     unexpectedly popped into my head. Thank you to my betas, DustWriter
     and Chelzie. Hope you enjoy this!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                   Epilogue
Katniss
His footprints were easy to track. I'd become proficient at identifying his
pace, the agility and quickness of him, the manner in which the marks twisted
to indicate a sudden pivot or silent leap. I knew those prints. They belonged
here in this forest, as much a part of the woods as the roots of an alder. They
led a path to his heartbeat.
I tipped my head and examined the outline of his boots in the soil. Not too
deep, slightly smudged. He'd been running. Playing.
Ferns brushed my shoulders and made whispering noises as I toed past them. The
white rays of the early-morning sun combed through the leaves overhead,
flashing brighter than a gilded frame. The gabled roofs of mushrooms jutted
from the ground. Wildflowers bloomed, yellow and yellower, the bud-like eyes
blinking at the first signs of summer. The splendor of greens and browns. The
promise of strawberry patches—I recalled being fed their sweetness hours after
giving my body, for the first time, to a boy.
I shook myself, amazed that my cheeks could flare so, even after all this time.
Suddenly, I recognized the melodic humming that rode the wind—it came from me.
I loved this place, for the forest had become my home. Every particular of this
haven built up the walls of my life. My fortress. My canopy. My peace.
Numerous sounds brewed through the wild. It was a good morning for a hunt.
Someone else had thought so, too. Because I'd woken up alone.
I tried not to be cross that I hadn't been invited to come along. Somewhere in
this wilderness, I felt him darting through the trees, weaving around cracked
trunks and brambles, his eyes reflecting determination, sharp as they scanned
the tightly-packed landscape, plush with majestic creatures all attuned to the
new day. A sight I refused to miss. I longed to witness him enraptured and full
of energy.
A nut dropped from above and skipped over my arrow pack, landing at my heel. I
bent to pick it up, break the shell, and chew. I gathered a few more and tucked
them into the pockets of my hose. Far from the noble world, I could dress like
a man here, reserving the finery of a lady—velvet skirts, ermine-lined cloaks,
godforsaken tassels—strictly for visits into the village or the palace.
I kept moving. He was close. In a minute, I could touch him, see his smile,
hear his laugh…there. Right there.
Beyond a hedge, I spotted blond hair, a pale forehead, and irises in an
unmistakable hue. Aware of the smile that split my face, I lowered myself
quietly to the ground, set my bow on my lap, and peeked through the leaves. He
bent forward, ear cocked as he listened for something. His boyish profile
scanned the woods, the cliff of his nose naturally tipped upward, sunlight
warming the slit in his chin.
Those eyes searched. They anticipated.
They widened, sensing a presence behind him—but it wasn't me.
My gaze narrowed, finally grasping a troubling fact: He was by himself.
By himself.
By himself!
How? Why? He wasn't supposed to be alone. Ever. Only now did I realize I'd been
tracking a single set of footprints instead of two. There should have been two!
He pitched forward, aiming to run. I gripped my bow as I caught sight of the
dark-hooded figure pursuing him, whom he must have heard coming. But before I
could muster a decent battle cry and launch myself at the unknown assailant, he
leapt through the undergrowth with unmatched speed.
The sort of speed that I knew from only one person.
I halted.
A distinctive giggle—childish and only in its eighth year—bubbled from my blue-
eyed boy as his small body dashed ahead. And just like that, I knew.
The larger figure caught my boy and scooped him up like a miniature sack of
flour. As the figure did so, the hood slipped from his head to reveal a second
thicket of blond hair. I sagged in relief, watching as Peeta twirled our son
into the air.
Our boy. Unharmed. And not, in fact, by himself.
The pair of them sang with laughter, a tuneless choir graced with Peeta's
cracking voice and Robin's high-pitched squeals. They rubbed their noses
together, as they usually did when indulging in something wicked.
"Does Mama truly not know we're gone?" Robin asked.
Peeta pressed his forehead against Robin's. "It's our secret."
Their words trampled the adoration in my heart. I'd woken up to silence instead
of the routine hubbub that Robin made as his voice jolted the rafters of our
house most mornings, loud enough to rouse a snoring dragon: "I am king—kinger
than king! I am warrior! Rooooarrrr! Mamapapawakeupwakeupwakeupi'mhungry! I
require bread!"
Despite Robin being the very image of Peeta, his hearty appetite and chronic
demands proved he was also my son. Alas, this morning it had been quiet. And
when I saw that Peeta's bow was gone, and that our son's bed was empty, I'd
known Peeta had taken Robin on his first archery lesson. Without me.
And now, while they'd been playing a game of chase, I nearly expired thinking
Robin was alone and in danger. My momentary scare, further fueled by the
knowledge that I'd been left out on such a reserved occasion, made me grind my
boot into the soil. I wanted to poke my husband's blue eyes out!
"Now, the first thing you must know…"
And so I would when next we were alone.
"…need to be patient."
I would make Peeta pay until he renewed his allegiance to me.
"…do not make a sound."
I would reject his lips and industrious fingers.
"…take care to place your hands thus."
I would line up and make target practice of the cheese rolls he baked whenever
I was vexed with him. I would—
"...pretend it's an extension of your arm."
I'd been preoccupied, glowering at a prickly pine cone, when those words
reached me. I recalled them from the day Peeta first taught me to hunt.
I glanced up. Peeta was kneeling behind Robin, securing our son between his
thighs and helping him adjust a child-sized bow. Blast. My ire threatened to
wilt at their feet. No one disarmed me as they did.
"Like this, Papa?" Robin asked.
"Like that."
The arrows and quiver I'd given Peeta all those years ago, the night we
announced our engagement in front of His Majesty, swung from my husband's
shoulder. The past decade had favored his physique, still broad beneath his
tunic, from arms to torso to the hands concealed within his supple leather
gloves. His aim still unrivaled for a man of seven-and-twenty. Still considered
a legend.
And still he favored my gift above all the newer bows King Plutarch provided
him. Peeta used it whenever he went hunting, in my company or not.
"As long as I have it, I have you with me," he once said.
I dug my teeth into my bottom lip. I wasn't entirely forgotten on this father-
son venture, but that did not mean I would show mercy so easily.
As I expected, it took less than five breaths for Robin's wide-eyed enthusiasm
to reshape itself and solidify into impatience. Sweet as cherries was our Robin
Mellark. Yet I had somehow bequeathed my son the Everdeen scowl.
"Where are the squirrels?"
"We must wait a few moments, and if we don't see anything, we move along until
we do."
"But where—"
"Patience."
"I can see far. To the end of the world. I can see bugs crawling all the way
over there."
Peeta ruffled Robin's hair affectionately. I frowned. For some reason, that
statement unnerved me. Our boy liked to exaggerate, but...in this, he sounded
sincere.
"Are they coming now?" Robin whispered.
"They'll come when you cease squirming."
"I am squirming because you hold me too tight."
"I'm holding you tight because I know you wish to run away again. One chase was
enough."
"That was a game. This is hunting. I'm very good at it."
"That's a confident declaration." Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Considering you've
never done it."
"I'm with you, Papa. I have skill through association."
Peeta and I gaped at him. The king had been giving our son an earful again.
Heavensbee had taken it upon himself to adore our son, though sometimes to our
disadvantage. Skill through what?
We would have to request an audience with His Majesty. He could not insist on
supplying Robin with such foolhardy notions. If it wasn't his influence we had
to fret over, it was Finnick's or Sheriff Abernathy's. As well-intentioned as
they all were, sometimes they forgot how seriously Robin took everything.
Peeta argued, "You learn skill from here—" he thumbed Robin's forehead. "And
here." He thumbed our son's heart. "And skill requires patience."
Patience, truly. Yet did Peeta not realize to whom he was talking? Did he not
know this wasn't the best spot for squirrels? Nor the ideal hour? I surpassed
him at catching smaller animals. We both knew this. Why hadn't he asked me to
join them?
Robin nodded and lifted his bow. It would come to naught.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
"Where are they, where are they, where are they?"
I jumped from my hiding spot. "You tarry in the wrong place!"
Their heads snapped toward me. Guilty flushes colored their cheeks at being
caught.
Peeta confided to Robin, "I fear we're in trouble."
"These aren't the right trees," I grunted, wagging one of my arrows in the air.
"North. The northern lip of the forest. That's where we'll find scores of furry
creatures."
"Mama," Robin lectured. "You're not supposed to be here. This is a secret."
I glared at Peeta, who shrugged and appraised me from head to toe. "Spying, my
lady?"
"Advising."
"Spying?"
"Of course not," I lied. "I was—"
"Spying."
Very well. They could suffer this squirrel-less hunt without my assistance.
I whirled away when I heard Peeta murmur something and then count out loud.
Their dramatic voices reached out to me in verse.
Oh, comely maid,
Oh, lady fair!
All hail thy braid,
That crowns your hair!
I pursed my lips. I lectured myself. No matter what I saw once I turned, I
would not melt.
Slowly, I twisted back around. Peeta had Robin in his arms, their temples
pressed together as they stared at me. An unfair set of square jaws, brilliant
eyes, and puppy faces pouted, begging my forgiveness.
Harder. I pursed my lips harder.
Peeta mouthed, We love you.
I glanced away. I would not admit that being omitted from their excursion had
wounded me. I sought a practical argument. "My presence could have been
useful."
Sighing, Peeta set Robin down and crossed his arms. We had this same debate
every summer.
"Squirrels are tricky," I clipped.
"Deer are tricky."
"Deer are harder to miss. With less places to hide."
"Squirrels aren't territorial, my lady. They're everywhere."
Robin's head pivoted between us.
I struggled to remain dignified, noble, calm. "You underestimate—"
Peeta squinted and stuck a finger in his ear. "And if there were any squirrels
here, they're long gone now."
"I am not yelling!"
"Katniss—"
"Do not embellish my name with that honeyed tone of yours. Take up your bow
this instant. We'll see who triumphs, for I am positively—"
"Mama!" Robin shrieked.
Peeta's blue eyes flitted over my shoulder. His pupils dilated. They flashed.
Fear.
Protectiveness.
It happened in a blink. He swiped up his bow and fired. The arrow zipped past
my cheek and hit something behind me. A troop of mockingjays bolted from an Elm
and scattered into the air, a dark cloud splintering to pieces.
I spun around, expecting to find a lifeless mound of fur and claws and teeth. I
saw nothing. What had Robin noticed? What had Peeta struck?
My husband and I rushed to where the arrow impaled the tree's arm, pinning a
tracker jacker to its surface, the tip of the weapon engorged in its center.
Goodness. The insects were rare but dangerous. Deadly to some. They moved
impossibly fast and thus were equally impossible to see mid-air, much less
strike with an arrow. Unless Peeta was the one firing at them.
Hands shaking, he yanked me against him and cradled my head in his chest. I
hardly paid attention because…there wasn't just one arrow stabbing the tracker
jacker. There were two, the points of both merely a hair's breadth apart. A
direct shot at a swiftly-moving target, from a considerable distance. An
insignificant-looking creature, but a very significant kill. A life-saving
moment only an unparalleled archer could master. One with improbable eyesight.
Two arrows. A larger one. A smaller one.
Peeta's mouth fell open as though seeing himself from the outside for the first
time. We stared at one another. Then back at Robin.
Our son lowered his bow, eyes glistening, plump with confusion at what he'd
just done. He blinked. He shuffled his feet. His chest rose and fell in shallow
little pants. He looked to us for guidance.
My hand clamped over my mouth. It was the wrong thing to do.
He started wailing.
Peeta and I dropped our bows and rushed over to him. We knelt by his side,
cooing over him as he rubbed his eyes and cried, frightened by the speed at
which everything happened.
"I'm sorry, P-p-papa!" he lamented between gulps, his voice splitting like a
dried leaf. "Mama, I'm sor-sorry. I d-d-didn't mean to shoot at you!"
"I'm fine," I whispered. "Nothing's amiss."
"You were trying to protect her, Robin," Peeta said, his expression frayed, a
tapestry of concern and awe. "Hush. It's alright."
"But I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean t-to k-k-kill the bug. I didn't mean it!"
Peeta ran his hand through our boy's hair and tried to shush him—to no avail.
The hysteria had fully taken hold of Robin because he was like me.
And, it appeared, even more like Peeta.
                                  kpkpkpkpkp
I peeked through the window and watched them settle by the lake, just beyond
our tree house. I had the advantage of knowing what Peeta was saying to our son
without having to guess. This was a moment I could not participate in. It was
between them. Because Peeta knew, he knew what his son felt. He knew the
disquiet of discovering at a young age that he was different.
Gifted but different.
Peeta balanced on his knees, his cloak flapping like a sail as he spoke to
Robin in measured but soft tones, explaining what his gift meant, that it
didn't make him strange or cruel. That he was special.
The breeze created ripples in the water, stirring its placid surface and
irritating the Mallards. Peeta removed his leather glove, wiggled Robin's nose,
and gestured to the bobbing ducks.
Robin giggled. I smiled.
He tucked himself into Peeta's chest, the way I often did when I needed the
solace of my husband's embrace. I turned away, giving them privacy. I busied
myself in the kitchen, stoking the fire in the hearth to warm a pot of morning
oats. The stone niche surrounding it kept the flames secure.
Early in its timeline, His Majesty had insisted upon hiring an army of men to
extend the modest dwelling Peeta had originally built for us, adding support
beams around the massive hulk of the tree. As well as extra rooms, a spiral
staircase that wound like a vine around the trunk and led up to the front door,
a second and third level, glass windows, a lookout terrace, an underground
larder, a pen for our goat, and a stable for our two horses.
For King Plutarch could not have his most prized archer living in "squalor
amongst the animal kingdom."
"I won't have it. I won't, I won't, I won't," Heavensbee had declared, his
voice booming down the neck of his banquet table as he rammed an empty goblet
against the surface.
He wouldn't have it. Though he reserved rooms for us at Court, it would appear
unseemly for him to disregard the living conditions of his treasured marksman.
Anything less would have made the king look bad. The man was in love with his
generosity.
So as a wedding gift, Heavensbee knighted Peeta and presented us with a rolled
parchment plan to "dignify" the tree house.
"A vertical estate in the sky," he'd puffed. "Befitting your stations. I will
be seen as an architectural innovator. Ahhh, I can see by your open mouths, Sir
Peeta and Lady Mellark, that my elegant foresight has left you speechless with
gratitude."
The design was ostentatious and impossible to imagine in the woods, but we
could not refuse a gift from King Plutarch. To prevent him from mutilating our
home, Peeta convinced the king to scale down his efforts to something we became
enchanted over.
We kept our life simple, though not without luxury. Heavy green draperies. Fur
mats. Feather pillows. Peeta's sketches. Robin's toys scattered in various
corners.
The hearth blazed. I laid out plates of cheese, meat, and berries to accompany
our bread and porridge—unrefined, but a preference of Peeta's from his days as
an outlaw. I rubbed my hands and checked the pot, in the middle of stirring
when I heard his footsteps. Peeta emerged in the doorway, carrying with him a
sleeping Robin. Our son loved to wake up before the birds, and since it had
been a taxing morning, it didn't surprise me to see him unconscious prior to
breakfast.
The boy's head was snuggled into Peeta's neck, cheeks covered in dried tears,
fist pressed against his mouth, legs wrapped around Peeta's broad chest. I
didn't think I would ever grow accustomed to such a sight. I watched my husband
move through the kitchen and disappear up the stairs that led to Robin's room.
Moments later, he returned, tossing his cloak on a chair and drawing my back
against his frame. He circled his arms around me as I inhaled the sweet scents
of leather and cinnamon.
We stared at the fire.
"He'll sleep soundly," he said.
"Until midday," I finished.
I felt guilty and unsettled as something perched at the edge of a table. To be
sure, I did not have to gaze upon Peeta's features to know they were drawn. We
marveled that Robin had inherited Peeta's rare gift of sight, a truth we failed
to notice in all of eight years, which blunted the edges of our confidence.
This was the sort of skill that could turn Robin into military gem.
I did not care for that idea. Neither did Peeta.
"Have you ever seen him accomplish...such a feat?" I asked.
"Why would I keep such a secret from you, Katniss?"
"How did we miss the signs?"
"Don't do that," Peeta said. "Don't punish yourself."
"It shocked him. It scared him."
Our expressions—shaken, confounded—hadn't helped. Robin had done something
unusual by hitting that tracker jacker. He'd seen the proof of it on our faces.
Our reactions had undone him.
"He'll learn to manage it," Peeta said. "As I did. We'll teach him."
I thought about that. "He needs a compass."
"He knows how to read the sun's position. He knows this arena of trees."
"I do not care. He still needs a compass. He needs to know where north is." I
hiked up my nose. "Where the squirrels are."
He nipped my ear, playfully reprimanding me for that statement. "As he grows,
he can decide for himself what he wants to do about his gift. No one will force
him to be an archer because he'll have his own mind, he'll have your strength
of will."
And Peeta's cunning. Together, we would nurture Robin's gift so that it
safeguarded rather than burdened him. Peeta's words restored my spirit,
reminding me that survival ran through the veins of our compact family.
"I'm glad you were there," he murmured.
"I almost wasn't," I rebuked. "Why did you not take me with you?"
"Katniss, you know how you are with him. You become nervous and critical, and
it makes him nervous and...shall we say, cranky. I wonder from where that
tendency comes."
I tried to pull away, but he shackled me against him.
"I needed him to be focused. It's how my father taught me to use a bow. We were
alone. It had naught to do with not wanting you there. I always want you there,
but today wasn't a day to need you there. Until...well, we wouldn't have found
out if you hadn't spied on us."
"I'll say it again: I wasn't spying, Peeta."
"Think as you will, my lady. About your endeavors as well as the squirrels."
I could not help the laughter that escaped me as I realized the silliness of it
all. Peeta Mellark, the natural leader, the one to whom men looked up, the one
whom His Majesty relied upon. And he'd been standing there, patiently arguing
with me about squirrels.
Peeta joked, "If Robin gets that upset over catching a tracker jacker, maybe
he's not ready to hunt fluffy animals for supper."
My laughter deepened. Peeta nestled his lips into the curve of my neck,
nibbling over the column of skin, causing my pulse to quicken. My head fell
back onto his shoulder. The fire crackled and spread an orange light over us.
He whispered, "Do you remember when we made him?"
Sighing, I reached behind me and weaved my fingers through his hair, my stomach
fluttering from the memory. We'd been quarreling on that late summer day, just
before my birthday. To calm myself, I threw off my clothes and dove into the
lake.
The lake. The place where I first discovered the shock of his embrace, the
molten results of what happened when lips collided and the world became so very
singular. When I first learned that simple touches were not always so simple.
In his fury, Peeta came after me, storming across the dirt while ripping his
jerkin over his head. I'd known his intentions. The ferocity of his expression
had stirred me, unwound me from my petty tantrum, but I was stubborn.
He caught me before I turned my back on him. He pinned me flush against our
favorite rock surface. I wrapped my legs around him.
It was beautifully harsh. The slick nakedness of his body, his thrusts digging
my hips into the rock, the untamed shouts that flourished from our mouths and
echoed through the woods, the artistry of Peeta's face lost in ecstasy and the
knowledge that I was responsible.
We made Robin. In that lake, he became a grain of sand inside me, sealed with a
breathless kiss.
The memory strung my thighs as tight as rope cords. My sudden desire—it was
always sudden—directed my actions. I dissolved against Peeta, welcoming his
mouth as he sucked the tender flesh of my neck, his hands slipping beneath my
shirt to palm my breasts.
He groaned, "It never fades."
No, it never has. Our desire.
Since Robin, it had grown less frequent, the blissful but bottomless job of
raising him commanding our time and energy. But with the decrease in quantity
came a potent silver lining during the private moments we managed to steal: a
starvation that unleashed upon us and violent climaxes that left us dazed.
I turned and threaded my arms around Peeta, whose eyes were now fogged. "Is
Robin truly asleep?"
"Don't ask questions you know the answer to."
"Perhaps you should check again, just to be certain—"
"Stop toying with me," he growled. "I don't have the tolerance."
Barely finished with his sentence, he seized the back of my head and stole my
breath. His hot lips latched onto mine, tongue dominating the inside of my
mouth, ebbing and sweeping back in. The need spiraled between my legs as I
clung to him.
The still-life of our breakfast remained untouched on the table. I wasn't
hungry. I was thirsty. I tore my mouth away and kissed a wet trail down his
throat, lifting his tunic to span the contours of his chest.
I landed on my knees.
Peeta made a wounded noise as my fingers eased down at the waistband of his
hose, revealing him to me. We gazed at each other. The unspoken rule passed
between us.
He will not wake up. Nevertheless, we must be careful. We must be quiet.
Under the guidance of my puckered mouth, Peeta dissolved. His spine arched, his
freckled nose wrinkled, his eyelids flickered.
"I..." he mumbled. "I..."
"You," I praised.
My lips drew him deep, each tug producing a hushed but needy response. A
vignette of moments followed. His fingers, my hair...his waist, my nails...his
restrained sobs...his head thrown back...open-mouthed anguish...so, so
good...my husband...the tension in him...twitching...once...twice...three
times.
His taste. My moan.
I released him only when he slumped against the table. I kissed the slice of
bone that outlined his hips, my favorite part of him. I spoke against his
abdomen. "Have I exhausted you?"
"It would not matter," he said, dragging me to my feet. "We're not finished
yet."
We stumbled into our bedroom and shut the door, fumbling with one another's
clothes. Peeta shoved me onto the mattress the second he removed the final
garment. My thighs welcomed him. He landed between them.
Grinning, he covered my mouth as he buried himself into the narrow cove of my
body, locking our hips together. I bucked against him, a muffled Ohhhh grinding
out into his palm. This would not be easy. I concluded as much as he slipped
out completely. Then thrust in again.
Do.
And again.
Not.
And again.
Stop.
And again. All the while, he covered my moans with his hand. Until it was too
much for him.
"Speak," he gasped.
"I love you."
"And I love you, dammit, but that's not what I meant. Sentiment only makes me
harder," he panted. "I need help. Please."
"So close, then?"
"So very close."
Defiant, I lifted my hips and rolled them against his, joyfully inducing his
pain. My hands clamped onto his backside. He could not resist whenever I did
that.
He bit his lip, grunted, and then chuckled breathlessly. "Cruel person. Stop
that."
"Never."
"Heartless."
His passionate gaze set me to humming. My body arched as he hit a particularly
tight spot, the sensation bolting through me. "Oh...oh...oh, I hope the oats
don't burn."
"That's good," he said. "Oats. Tell me about them."
"They're not supposed to cook for this long. They'll dry up."
"Did you add barley?"
"I did. And millets and rye."
"Yes. I love rye," he moaned.
"Oh, Peeta, this is...I can't..."
It felt too good. He felt too impossibly good. I could do nothing more than
babble.
"Very well," he said wickedly. "You don't wish for it to last. You fail to give
me your cooperation. Therefore..."
He hitched my right leg over his shoulder and lashed into me, whipping my body
into the pillows. I lodged my fist into my mouth to stifle the sounds.
His blue eyes turned black as night. "Do you pine for me, Katniss?"
I nodded, helpless, rendered speechless by the force of him.
He withdrew again.
And slipped in again.
"My lady," he said. "My wife. My love."
Pleasure coiled at the spot that joined us, pushed me to the brink, and then
sprung free. I bit into the muscles of his shoulder, crying out repeatedly,
even more so when he reached his own peak. He swore into the blanket, shivered,
and collapsed.
He sighed. He kissed me.
Chin. Nose. Temple. Lips.
We fought for breath. I ran my fingers over the dip in his lower back. I felt
him smile into my neck.
I blinked. "Did you give Robin his milk?"
Our son always needed a cup at his bedside, even during a brief rest.
Peeta lifted his head. His blond hair was a knotted mess. Had I done that?
We studied one another, contemplated, and then burst into chuckles. Still
flushed from making love, and already our minds had skipped away to a place
outside of this room.
We rolled around, clinging and kissing, relishing the quiet, the sun beaming
through the window and quilting us in its gauzy light. After, Peeta pulled on
his hose and left to check on Robin. And the oats.
As I draped my tunic over my head, he returned. Our son hadn't stirred yet, but
he had his milk now.
Peeta cocooned me into his body, his breathing evening out, on the cusp of
dreams, where I followed him...
The sound of the door squeaking open woke me. I fought a grin, kept my eyes
closed, and listened to the patter of feet crossing the room. They stopped at
Peeta's side.
"Papa," Robin whispered. "Are you awake? Papa."
The landscape of our bed bounced, hills of blankets shifted as my husband
rolled over, sighing happily. "Well, well," he murmured. "Behold. A knight who
has misplaced his armor."
I heard the shy smile in our son's words. "Never fear. I keep my armor in a
treasure chest."
"Have you gotten into the bread?" Peeta asked with a chuckle.
"Mmm...no."
"Then what are the crumbs all over your mouth?"
"They're not important...they're...I..."
The sudden hitch in our boy's voice made my heart twist. So often I wanted to
tuck him safely in my pocket, where nothing could harm him. He was our sky and
earth.
"Come here," Peeta said softly.
The bed rocked as Robin climbed in, bringing with him the childish aromas of
apple cores and curiosity. His bare feet curled over the cliffs of my knees.
Peeta urged him to whisper.
"What ails you, Robin?"
"Is there something wrong with me?"
My chin quivered. How quickly he could reduce me to a shower of tears. He had
no idea the effect he could have on me. On Peeta.
My husband countered, "Is there something wrong with me?"
"No."
"Then I wager we're both fine."
"I'm like you?"
"Every bit."
"Will I be a legend, too?"
"You can be anything you want. But having a title, or being a legend, isn't
important. Kindness, generosity, helping others, being a loyal friend. Doing so
because it's right, without expecting a reward. That's what matters. It makes
you strong."
"I can do those things," Robin confided.
"I know you can."
"We saved Mama today. Is she well? It didn't sting her?"
"I promise she's very well. She's forever safe with us. It's what we do. We
protect each other."
Robin paused, the room blossoming with the sound of his tiny exhales. "You and
Mama will teach me?"
"Every day."
"I should maybe learn how to catch a squirrel first."
The mattress shook with gentle laughter. My feelings climbed to new heights,
because my husband's words were firm as a shield. Exactly what Robin and I
needed to survive. To keep hope.
"Do you trust me?" Peeta asked.
"Always," Robin said.
A minute later, he fell asleep again. I opened my eyes and stared into a pair
of blue ones. Peeta flashed his fetching grin, unsurprised that I'd been
eavesdropping. He kissed his three middle fingers and placed them on my lips,
which I kissed back.
Our son snored between us. There was so much to do, but I was glad Peeta had
doused the fire in the kitchen hearth. Breakfast could wait. It was summer. The
days were long.
There was no reason to hurry.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.
***** Outtake *****
Chapter Notes
     Well, I had a lovely excuse to write an outtake for this. The
     illustrious iloverynmar is celebrating her birthday this weekend. For
     her gift, she wanted a scene mentioned briefly in the epilogue: how
     Everlark made Robin, which started with a quarrel and ended in the
     lake.
     Here's to a wonderful and supportive friend. You are stardust!
     Many thanks to Chelzie and Court81981 for their help on this.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Peeta
He ducked just before the flying plate could make contact with his head. It
smashed against the kitchen wall and shattered into claw-shaped fragments on
the floor. He lurched back up, balked at the sight, and whipped around to glare
at his wife. "What in hellfire, Katniss!"
"Answer me!" she yelled. She'd stationed herself beside the pottery shelf, well
within reach of ale jugs and bowls, potential domestic weapons all suitable for
a marital beheading. Her hands balled into fists. Her side-braid hung like a
tattered rope and her crown of yellow flowers sagged at an angle across her
forehead. She had a passionate, wild-eyed, dethroned queen look about her.
It might not have been wise to bring up children.
It had started out well. Their room, their bed, their blankets. A fetching
midday romp of kissing and touching.
The moment his head disappeared beneath her skirt, things took a turn. A
messenger, windblown from his gallop through the forest, had pounded his fist
on the treehouse door. Groaning, Peeta answered, his annoyance dissolving when
he read the scroll addressed to him. He felt a smile brim across his face.
Katniss had appeared in the kitchen and peeked over his shoulder. "What is it?"
Peeta quickly rolled up the parchment. "Heavensbee. He needs me to report at
Court tomorrow morning."
Her brows drew together.
His lie hadn't worked. Perhaps he'd been telling too many lies lately. Perhaps
he should have counted how many times messengers had knocked on his door in the
past weeks.
He kissed her, hoping his tongue would maneuver her thoughts away from the
scroll and back into bed. Instead of demanding the truth, she cooperated and
pretended to believe him. She kissed him back but without the fervor of
earlier.
When he tilted his head to intensify the kiss, she wiggled away. "How long will
you be gone?"
His dragged his lips down her neck while mumbling, "I've no idea."
"Because we're expected to visit Gale and Johanna in the village tomorrow," she
said, an edge to her voice. An edge that he treaded along carefully. Such a
precarious edge that were Peeta to make one wrong move, he'd plummet over the
side and break his neck.
Johanna, plump with child, had been feeling uncharacteristically weepy,
starving for company and depressed because Gale wouldn't let her near an axe.
Peeta and Katniss promised Gale they would cheer her up with a visit.
Peeta sighed. "We'll call upon Jo when I return."
"You do not know when that will be. Moreover, I can only spare time for a
morning visit. The rest of the day isn't possible."
"Why?"
"It simply isn't," she said between her teeth.
"Oh?" he joked. "Come, Katniss. You speak as though you have important things
to do."
Katniss sucked in a breath. Peeta checked himself. It was the wrong thing to
say, the wrong tone to use, perplexed and amused. Mocking, even. The way a
husband might speak to a wife. The way Peeta had never spoken to her before.
She pulled away from him, but he stopped her from retreating. "You know what I
meant."
"Do I? It must be a relief that you don't have to explain yourself."
"Look at me."
"Would you fancy a pint with that relief? It's hardly suppertime, but we've
been known to break the rules before. On a more radical scale, amid peril and
destruction."
"Look at me this instant."
Her gaze had crawled toward his, eyes like armor, like polished shields. He
slid his palms over her arms, but his touch made her recoil. She'd retreated to
the pottery shelf where she furiously began refolding dish rags. Lamely, he
considered asking her if she needed help, but he knew what her answer would be.
Peeta sought to redeem himself, but the devil must have been riding on his
shoulder because instead of issuing an apology and beseeching her forgiveness,
he found himself growing irritated. Commonly, he thought her stubbornness
arousing. Not today. Not when it was dampening the celebratory mood he'd been
in.
He said, "In any case, Gale didn't convey when tomorrow."
"Indeed, he did. He said it just before he left our house."
"I heard him say that we were welcome at any hour. You were the one not paying
attention."
"When Gale says 'any hour,' he means as early as humanly possible. It's the way
people of The Seam talk. You would not know, my lord."
"My name is Peeta. And allow me, Peeta, to point out one fruitful fact: I've
known Gale longer. He was in my gang before he was your friend."
"That means nothing. He and I are from the same region."
"But not the same class. That's where we prosper from a kinship you cannot
grasp. He said any time."
"And I'm telling you, he did not mean any time. Johanna does not accept any
time."
He got defensive. "She'll forgive me if I'm delayed by His Majesty."
Peeta wasn't really meeting the king. He had to remind himself of that.
"When Johanna wishes for something, she wishes for it with haste," Katniss
argued. "Even more since she's with child. Expectant women are sensitive about
their needs, however trivial."
"You shall find out soon, I suppose."
She slapped a dish rag onto the countertop. "What do you mean by 'soon'?"
"You're a lady of breeding. You've been educated. I'm sure someone of your
stature can figure it out."
"Now you're deciding when your child will be conceived."
Peeta chuckled at the ridiculousness of such an accusation. "I'm a former
outlaw, not a wizard."
They'd been married for fifteen glorious months, and it wasn't as though there
were many methods of controlling when they became parents. And he was not about
to stop rousing her in the middle of the night, stirring her sighs up from the
darkness.
"It will be our child," he corrected. "Not mine."
She pretended to give this earnest thought. "Ours."
"Unless you had other plans," he grated, thinking of one male face in
particular.
"I shouldn't dream of doing anything without your permission. Did you know
that's against the law?"
Peeta glowered at her.
"Oh, yes," she continued. "Heavensbee abolished that law. If only husbands
would take care to remember that. Alas, they forget so often."
"Too many battle blows to head, I suppose."
"And I suppose it will be a trial to obtain your help with an infant. I
shouldn't bother hoping you'll be around for us."
The assumption slashed its way through him like a finely crafted blade. She
didn't mean it. She couldn't believe that.
"My lady," he warned. "I'll thank you to know me better."
"What was in the message?!"
Goddammit. That again.
He'd feigned ignorance. "I told you—"
That's when she had reached for the plate.
Now, Peeta tried to quell the storm brewing in his gut. It wasn't her fault, he
told himself. She was upset. At least she hadn't gone after the bread pan. That
would have been the final stroke. The pan was heavy, but it wasn't unbreakable,
and it wasn't wise to underestimate the strength of his wife's arm.
He pointed to the hall. "Katniss, I'm going to leave the room, and when I come
back, your sense will be here waiting for me, and your temper will be somewhere
far away."
"You must think me a fool," she trilled.
"I don't marry fools."
"You're lying to me."
"No. I truly don't marry fools."
"I am not jesting!"
"Johanna might be uncharacteristically sensitive, but you're the one being
irrational."
"When we met, it was my irrationality that joined your gang. It was my
irrationality that believed you were more than a renegade. It was my
irrationality that was willing to do anything for you. And each of those
irrational things were the right instinct. So yes, my irrationality believes
you're guarding a secret."
"I'm in the king's confidence."
"How fortunate for you that you have something important to do."
"I never meant—"
"It must be nice being praised and admired, have people fawning over you,
bowing and curtsying—" She bowed and curtsied dramatically "—all because you
can hit a moving target blindfolded from a mythical distance. How wonderful it
is performing tricks for people. The stocky, golden, straight-teethed legend.
Ooooh," she sneered, wiggling her fingers. "Meanwhile, your lady fair has the
privilege of capturing rodents for supper."
"Permit me to enlighten you, Lady Mellark," he snapped. "My bow skill is not
some whimsy. It's no mere diversion."
"Are you saying mine is?"
"I train an army to protect us."
"I put food on this table! You hardly bother to thank me!"
"You don't like me to thank you. You scowl at compliments. What are we
quarrelling about? You love hunting."
"I love it more when I do it with you!"
When her voice split, so did his heart. "Katniss..."
"You haven't hunted with me in weeks. You leave me alone, you've been hiding
your life from me, and then you mock me over it. Is this what happens when you
love too much? You know each other too well, and it gives you leave to hurt so
easily? Whatever is the point of that?"
Katniss had no fear of speaking her mind, but she rarely ever spoke it in
heaps. He approached and framed her shoulders, desperate to atone for his
callousness, but she shrugged him off. She strode out of the kitchen and
slammed the front door. Peeta sagged into a chair and dumped his face into his
palms. He was an ass.
Not a moment later, the door opened. Katniss strode back into the kitchen.
Peeta lurched to his feet. "I—"
"I should like to be admired for my skills as much as you."
"I underst—"
"I should like people to regard me as a worthy hunter."
"You are—"
"I would like to do more with my bow, but do I have the chance? No."
"Might I talk?" he asked, his voice rising again.
"I can't do more because I haven't the time. I have bread pans to wash!"
He eyed the loaf pan on the second shelf. She'd better not.
"You're the one who didn't want an influx of servants," he replied. "Twice each
week, a few hands for the household and the horses. You insisted on doing
everything else."
"I thought you'd be helping me!"
"I do as much as I can."
"As of late, you've put little effort into it, and then you do it wrong. I
stock the pantry in one order, but the next day, it's disorganized again. I
haven't the patience to remind you endlessly how to store bread and cheese."
Peeta braced his knuckles on the kitchen table and leaned forward. "I know how
to properly store bread. I'm the one who bakes it."
"Pfff. You're not the one who has game to skin. Water to collect. Clothes to
mend."
"Putting it mildly, my lady? Hell would freeze over before you'd let me near a
mending needle."
"Indeed, because if I did you'd stitch your codpiece shut without realizing
it!"
He chuckled meanly. "As it is, nothing happens when it's open."
Katniss reared back as though he'd slapped her. Good God. What folly was he
saying? There wasn't a surface left in their home that they hadn't made love
on. They'd been enjoying a decadent interlude not ten minutes ago. And if the
messenger hadn't turned up, Peeta would be inside her by now, pushing her to
the brink.
She recovered rapidly. Her ability to do so was one of the reasons he
worshipped her, even if it caused his downfall more times than he could count.
Outside, a raven's call scratched the air.
She crossed her arms. "I loathe going to His Majesty's palace."
"Fie and fuck," he hissed to himself.
"It's mutiny. All the women at Court do is bustle their bloated breasts in your
face, bat their lashes, and lick their adulterous lips while you do nothing
about it."
"Exactly. Nothing. I do nothing."
"Outrage is the spawn of denial. Denial is the spawn of guilt. Guilt is the
spawn of betrayal."
"My lady, if madness were its own monarchy, you would be first in the line of
succession."
"I hate going there, but I do. I reach down into the pit of my stomach, summon
my tolerance, strap myself into a gown, net my hair into a crespine with enough
jewels to strain my mood as well as a my neck, and endure hours of politics and
vanity."
"I never make you go if you don't wish to."
"It's impossible to refuse the king."
"Oh, now you think so. It's a pleasure to know that your beliefs are malleable
when it suits you."
"Only once did I feign illness, and what happened when I did? You attended
Court alone. And what happened? She was blond, was she not? Like Delly."
Peeta's eyes flitted to the ground. Bracing his fists on his hips, he inhaled
through his nostrils.
"Oh Sir Mellark," Katniss praised while fanning herself. "I admire you so much.
What a long arrow you have. You aim it so well. Swoooon." She touched her
finger to her bottom lip. "Might you show me how to hold it one starry night?"
"You weren't there. Who told you this?"
"In every rumor is a drop of truth."
"I'm not going to defend myself. I shouldn't have to."
"Tell me you weren't with her. Tell me you didn't take the little noble wench
behind that tapestry."
"You mean the one I dragged you to during Christmas whilst the minstrel
performed for Court and Heavensbee snored into his cup? The one I fucked you
behind? That tapestry?"
"Yes. Your favorite one."
"Katniss. Don't."
"You receive messages from the king at dawn, at dusk. I know a scroll that
bears a royal emblem on its seal and one that doesn't! Where do you go without
my knowledge? Who are you truly with?"
"You don't deserve an answer to that question."
"I'm your wife!"
"Henceforth, act like it!" he roared. "The problem isn't that I'm not answering
you. The problem is that you're asking in the first place! I shall not lower
myself to that muck, Katniss."
"Forgive me for hoping we wouldn't keep secrets. I assumed that's what we
promised each other."
"We also promised to trust one another."
"Trust is earned!" she screamed.
"Yes!" he screamed back. "And I'm not the one who has ever failed that test!
I'm not the one in this room who has a history of deceiving!"
Katniss fell silent. As she wrung her own hands, the Seam bracelet she'd given
him chafed the skin around his wrist. It was an unfair attack, but he didn't
care. It felt good being despicable and seeing its effect on her.
So he continued. "Doubt me, do you? You're the one who mars our past with lies,
not me! If there's anything I've ever been, it's dedicated to you. Can you say
the same?"
"Peeta," she sighed. "That was over a year ago."
"Very well. I'll give you something more recent. Darius."
"That knight?"
"He's become a constant companion of yours at Court."
"No more than Finnick."
"Finnick does not dally that close to you even during a dance. Finnick does not
touch your elbow. Finnick does not offer to share the same goblet with you."
Katniss's gaze took on a fascinated gleam. "Are...are you jealous?"
"For Christ's sake, spare me the astonishment! It's pure magic that you
happened to notice the women flocking around me whilst Darius preoccupied you
so thoroughly. Laughing. Whispering." Peeta threw up his arms in disgust. "The
man cannot hold a bow steady!"
"You fiend!"
"What were you saying earlier about the nature of anger?"
"You're jealous! Admit it!"
"I don't care what you do with him, so long as you're honest. An unpracticed
pastime for you."
She stomped out of the kitchen. The front door of the treehouse slammed a
second time.
Peeta scrubbed through his hair and stared at the hearth. The front door
groaned open again. Katniss marched back in. Damp air slithered in from the
open shutters. It was a late summer day, festering with humidity and a stale
smell that he couldn't identify in his own home.
"Yes, I fancy Darius," she said. "I'm hopelessly fond of him. I don't search
for you as much when he's at Court. I've sung for him, too."
Peeta envisioned the hearth blazing, then dying to ash. He remembered Rue once
telling him that Katniss never sang in front of people. Yet, one night long
ago, still a prisoner of his gang, she sang for them. For him.
All this time, he thought...he thought it was something special between them.
"You never sing in public," he whispered.
"I sing for those who care."
"The one who cares is me! Once upon a time, I risked my life and my heart for
your voice!"
"I doubt you would again."
Peeta clapped his hands. "Bravo, my lady. You've exhibited sufficient self-
pity. Darius would be impressed. Assuming he doesn't shoot his own foot, maybe
you should invite him to hunt with you as well. He'd feel at home with all the
vermin."
"Who says I haven't already?"
Peeta had wanted to crush her soul before she did it to him, but he was too
late. Her words dangled in his face at the end of a brittle noose. He hung his
head. "I'm destined to love women who lie."
Katniss's voice twisted. "Peeta."
"Thank you for this moment of candor."
"Peeta, I..."
"Thank you for reminding me of what a fool I am."
The front door slammed a third time. Peeta turned away. He stored the rags
she'd refolded into the cupboard, stacking them by size, the way she preferred
it. He did not go after her. He did not need to.
The door winced open again. Katniss stepped back inside. A blistering look
passed between them.
She bit her lip. His jaw ticked.
The argument drew a deep breath and resumed. "You demand an explanation about
Darius, but I'm not allowed to question you about the banquet of women who
flounce their skirts at you or the messages you receive."
"I don't encourage those women. They're not you."
"Darius is not you, either!"
"What do you want me to say, Katniss?"
"Convince me."
Some of those messages had been, in fact, from Heavensbee. The kingdom was
still new under his reign, thus Heavensbee had been keeping Peeta busy. The
other messages...well.
Katniss doubted him. She doubted him in the most horrid way. He wanted to
comfort her. He wanted to shake her.
He cocked his head. "So you do believe gossip over my word. Interesting.
Tragic."
"But real."
"Not real. I've never done that to you. I never would. I never will."
"Because you're noble?"
"Because I love you! I loved you the first moment I saw you!"
"Ahhh. So you had time to fall in love while watching me with Seneca. Did you
still love me hours later when you tried to skewer off my finger with an
arrow?"
"Yes."
"You exaggerate your feelings."
"No."
"It's a pity that I didn't feel the same."
"Of course you didn't. You would have needed a heart for that!"
Katniss snatched the bread pan. Peeta ducked again. It struck the wall, split
into two pieces, and hit the floor.
They stared at each other in shock. Something tightened and revealed itself on
his face because Katniss inched backward, then whipped around and flew out of
the kitchen, out of the treehouse. If there were a way to fuse the pieces back
together, he would still see the crack in the pan every time he looked at it.
Peeta went after her. He smacked his palm against the front door so hard it
rammed into the house's foundation. He wondered if there would be a crack there
as well. He hoped so.
He followed the trail of her clothing, hastily tossed to the ground, stained of
sweat and forest, wrinkled bitterly. He found her in the lake wearing only her
lopsided floral crown. Swimming often remedied her ill-humor, yet she was
slapping the pool's surface, unladylike and petulant.
Unaware of him until he was bootless and ankle-deep.
She watched like a caught animal, saw him yank apart the cords of his jerkin
and pull it over his head. His belt. His hose.
The scroll. Gale. Swollen and needy Johanna. Katniss exhausted from a day of
work, hunting alone, hating Peeta as much as he hated her in this moment. Her
prickly glances across the gilded banquet halls of Heavensbee's domain. Darius.
Salivating Darius. Katniss singing. The damned bread pan. The only one Peeta
owned!
She spun, tried to get away. He grabbed her by the elbows and hauled her up
against him. She raged and shrieked and twisted her shoulders. She had always
been a fighter. "Release me!"
"Give up!"
"I said let me go, Peeta."
"I can't," he growled. That was the problem. It would be his problem for the
rest of his life.
He backed her toward the rock wall, the place where they found each other one
night, when his mouth taught her to kiss and his fingers made her cry. From
joy. From loneliness.
He wanted both again. He wanted to fill her throat with his name and tear up
her voice. He expected more resistance, but by the time their wet bodies found
support against the wall, Katniss was panting and knotting her legs around him
and relishing his insulted, hungry kisses. The sweep of his tongue. The tilt of
his hips.
Her thighs squeezed him to the point of bruising, aiming to punish, daring him
to try to please her. Her expression declared that he wouldn't succeed. Fine.
He would punish back.
Grabbing her knees, he raised her legs higher over his waist and filled her
with one resentful jolt. Katniss yelped. She struggled to hold back, but he
saw. Her breasts hitched. Her lips quivered a silent yes.
He unleashed. He rolled his hips at an aggressive pace, his body lancing
through hers, unlocking the tightness in her. Her fingers dug into his
shoulders, the crown of flowers jostled, and her mouth hung open. His hand slid
down to cup her bottom while the other cradled the back of her head, protecting
it from slamming into the rock. Water kicked up a frenzy around their legs.
She thrashed back, bucking herself into him, willing him to give in first. They
glared at each other. They called out for more. Their groans scattered through
the trees.
When she flexed around him, nearing the blurred edges of completion, he
stopped. He gritted his teeth but enjoyed her baffled moan, the greedy way she
squirmed for him to continue. So glorious. So beautiful. So painful. He held
still until she focused on him, those torrential eyes waiting.
He began again, probing with quick strikes. Impatience caused them both to
whimper, but then he felt it rush upon him, contracting and flooding his anger
with a different sort of heat. If only she knew how much he would do for her,
how she consumed him, how she mesmerized him. No one had ever inspired in him
this much rage, protectiveness, devotion.
Katniss was his flame. He couldn't be happier to burn.
His movements sped up until they tensed together. He pressed his face into her
neck and shouted. Katniss arched backward, surprise coloring the one long moan
that flowed out of her.
They dissolved against the wall in a riot of exhaustion. As she wished, he
finally let her go. And she came back to him, tugging him closer, gathering him
to her. Peeta lavished her with kisses, pecking up and down her throat. Katniss
kissed him back just as clumsily. His cheeks. His chin. His forehead. They
knocked noses as if they had never done this before.
"Peeta."
"Katniss."
"I didn't mean it."
"I didn't, either. None of it."
"I'm sorry I threw the bread pan."
"I'm sorry I haven't been hunting with you."
"I lied. I never sang for Darius."
"There's no one else. I'm yours. I promise."
"I believe you. I love you."
"The scroll was a surprise."
Katniss leaned back. "I hate surprises."
Peeta chuckled weakly and kissed her lower lip. "For your birthday."
He told her. He'd ordered a bow specially made, just as she once presented him
with one of his own. It had taken weeks. He had requested a certain thread be
transported from The Seam, the same kind of material they used to weave their
special bracelets from.
Then he'd gotten carried away and commissioned a quiver as well. A sheath of
gray-blue, inlaid with silver scrollwork and the image of a tall tree. The
design of his gift entailed frequent trips from their forest, requiring him to
concoct various excuses to Katniss over his whereabouts. The scroll from the
messenger today had informed Peeta that the gift was complete.
"You're a brilliant hunter," he said, straightening her flower crown. "I would
never mock that. I've missed being in the woods together. There's no place I'd
rather be."
Katniss blushed. "I misjudged you."
"I gave you a reason to."
"I should have known better."
"We're growing into that."
Peeta let his fingers drift between her breasts, then lower to her navel where
he absently traced her dewy skin. Katniss intended to say more, but something
about his touch caught her attention. She gazed at him.
Slowly, she smiled. "You did not need to give me anything."
"No present for my wife? Why would you think such a thing?"
"Because you just gave me one." She rested her hand on his, flattening their
palms over her stomach. "Here."
Peeta's life halted. She couldn't know that for certain, but the lake had its
own way of making unexpected things happen. He felt Katniss's weight supported
by his hips, her ankles tying him to her, her body dripping with his. He was
terrified. He was elated.
He released a breath, ragged from their fight, grateful for it. His lips found
hers. He tasted her grin.
He needed to have another bow made.
Chapter End Notes
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