Scarlet.

XIII

"Time's Triad."

I've spent more time with my prep team than I'd like to; they've forced me to be part of their empty discussions while they fixed my hair, cleaned my nails, and applied makeup to my face.

The only thing I've gathered from all this is that they are slightly concerned about me. Of course, if I die, their fame dies with me; unfortunately, my plan will ruin their careers. I watch them pace back and forth as they work, and I engrave their faces into my memory. Despite everything, they've been the ones who helped me look desirable to my sponsors during the first games. That's why I'm here. Have they helped me or doomed me?

Nouria arrives, and with her comes my ticket out of this place. She leads me to the dining room, and we have lunch in silence. I'm grateful she doesn't talk a lot, because I couldn't stand the incessant chatter of my prep team any longer. I was on the verge of ripping my ears off with my bare hands.

The food is abundant and lavish, but I'm not hungry. I eat a piece of butter-soaked meat, a spoonful of parsley-infused mashed potatoes, and, for dessert, some chocolate-covered fruit. My stomach growls furiously, and Nouria chuckles because she heard it. I hadn't realized that, even though I didn't feel hungry, my body needed the food.

"What are we wearing for the parade?" I ask once I finish eating. "I'm not picky, but please, just don't send me fully naked."

Nouria smiles and shakes her head. I notice she hasn't touched her food; perhaps that's what keeps her so slim. Her dark skin gracefully glows under the soft sunlight seeping into the dining room. She appears both intimidating and delicate, contrasting qualities that are absolutely captivating.

"After much discussion, we've decided you'll be matching, just like every year," she replies, but the look on her face indicates that she might not be thrilled with the idea. "I've put my blood, sweat, and tears into your clothes, so you'll be fine."

My prep team arrives minutes later and collaborates with my stylist to make me presentable again, or at least what they consider presentable. There's been a drastic change, as I no longer look intimidating as I did last year. My wavy hair cascades heavily down my naked back. No heavy accessories, just a tight, nearly see-through dress that clings to my body like a second skin, glistening with golden accents that reflect every ray of light that touches it, making me look like a radiant sun. My eyelids sparkle with tiny golden glitters, and my lips stand out with a distinctive crimson red, as they have countless times before.

I turn towards the massive mirror on the wall and contemplate my reflection with a hint of nostalgia. I find myself in the same situation as I was a year ago, but I feel completely different. The only thing that remains the same are the uncomfortable shoes that I can barely walk in. Accidentally, I lock eyes with Nouria through the mirror, sensing a strange emotion on her face. Perhaps she knows I won't come out of the arena alive; maybe my prep team suspects it as well. What they don't know is that this has been my plan from the beginning.

We make our way down to the lower level of the Renewal Center, the gathering place for tributes and chariots before the ceremony. The noise of the place is deafening; loud laughter fills the space that, last year, was shrouded in an uncomfortable silence, with the weaker tributes barely whispering as they clung to their chariots.

"One for the money, and two for the show," Nouria had said in the elevator before offering a small bottle containing a drink so sweet that it completely masked the taste of alcohol. Now, I'm hyper-aware of my surroundings, as if I could catch a needle before it touches the ground.

In the distance, I spot my district partner, Brutus, wearing an utterly bizarre outfit that makes me look away immediately. But my eyes don't find a more suitable place to land, as they come across the male tribute from District 4, who is also scarcely dressed. He raises an eyebrow and walks towards me, but I shake my head in the opposite direction and quicken my pace until I reach my chariot, keeping my gaze fixed on the white horse that will pull it through the Tribute's Avenue.