¹ THRONE ─ the hunger games

[ 014 ] burn everything you love

BY THE TIME Alex exited the stage and met up with the others in the waiting area, Iko was ready to inhale her dinner and go to sleep. Her black heels dangled on their straps from her fingers. Hidden by the skirt of her dress, her feet were sore and pinched and aching. Iko wondered if that might affect her performance in the Games. Or if Aeneas even cared that he'd possibly caused an inconvenient dent in the start to the Games when he insisted on fashion over comfort. Irritation crawled under Iko's skin. Iko thought if she caught him alone tonight she might pluck all of his front teeth out. But she'd been through worse. Even at her lowest, she'd managed. She always managed. But Iko didn't want to do anything but excel in these Games, where death was the consolation prize and winning was the only guarantee of life.

I am my own guarantee of life, Iko thought, as the group—the two mentors, Aeneas, their stylists, and Alex—made their swift exit. Everything she has worked for came down to this. Tomorrow. No looking back.

"Want me to carry you?" Alex offered in a mocking tone as he watched her half-limp towards the elevator on blistered feet in blatant amusement.

Iko cut him a withering look.

Neither of them bothered staying for the rest of the interviews. Observation period was over days ago. What the other tributes had to say didn't interest her. In her mind, they hovered between conversation and exit, waiting for the violet hunger of lights to flash and the crowd to scream their approval or clap politely in dissatisfaction before leaving the stage, one step closer to dying in a place far from home. Now that that behemoth of a glamorous distraction was out of the way, they could focus on the real problem.

When the elevator doors closed on them, Iko cast Alex a furtive side glance.

As if sensing the weight of her stare, he turned to her, lifting a brow. "What?"

Iko opened her mouth to ask the question that'd been perched on the tip of her tongue since his interview. But decided against it. She shook her head, letting it turn to ash in her mouth. "Nothing."

"Just say it." Alex nudged her impatiently.

"Fine." Iko blew out a disgruntled breath, unease digging into her ribs. "Who's the girl? You told Caesar there was someone back home you had in mind. I know for sure you've never had a girlfriend, and you never told me about any girls who you've liked since Eris Harlowe in seventh grade."

Alex smirked. "Jealous?"

"No," Iko said in tone made of ice, unable to meet his eyes. "Just curious."

Alex laughed. Before she could needle the answer out of him, the elevator doors opened to their apartment, and the tantalising spread of food on the table had robbed them both of their ability to form coherent sentences.

At dinner, perhaps it's the pungent aroma of the rich food infused with the hostile glow of anticipation for what's to come tomorrow, or perhaps it's that they're all dressed to the nines and so unlike themselves, the illusion that they're part of the Capitol because they're wearing Capitol clothes and sitting amidst expensive ornery not pretending but one step closer to believing that the sparkling beverage between their teeth tastes like the glory they'll be bringing home for the district—whatever it was, it seemed to put everyone in a good mood. Even Enobaria was grinning unreservedly, razor-sharp teeth flashing in the light, as Evander and Alex debated weapons, while Aeneas and the stylists listened, pitching in on the outcome of tomorrow's terrain. Iko watched, occasionally slipping in her own predictions when the conversation turned to her for direction.

"It's absolutely vital that you remember the rules the academy's been drilling into you from the beginning," Enobaria said. "The first sixty seconds are crucial. You calculate your surroundings. You look out for water sources. You seize the Cornucopia, you seize the water supply, and you control the two biggest elements of survival."