The prince of Panem wanted to set his own kingdom on fire, and he wanted to make her his flint striker.

  Hazel's heart chawed on her sternum, disbelief rippling through her veins.

  I’m not built for this. I’m not a revolutionary. I’m just a girl with permanent blood under her nails and too many dead friends.

  The couch dug further into her spine along with something she had completely forgotten. The knife. Tucked into the waistband of her dress, every backward movement made the bulk dig more into her.

  Yet the discomfort did little to distract. Instead, she traced his words over in her mind.

  The right to vote? Extended to the Districts? Had he completely lost touch with reality?

  Snow was all but feasting on her reactions. Devouring her response. She met his stare, hunting for a trick beneath the madness, but found only solid conviction.

  “I’m apparently not the only one who's lost touch with reality.” She murmured. “Are you high off your new perfume?”

  The edges of his eyes softened, although his hold on her shoulder did not. “I am not insane, Miss Marlowe.”

  “Maybe let a doctor decide that.” She kicked back.

  The tips of his fingers played her shoulder bone like a piano, “I thought you didn’t trust doctors.”

  “I don’t.” Hazel shook her head again as his words swelled in her mind, “But even I can recognize someone who needs one.”

  “I’ll admit that, at first, the concept may seem preposterous, but if you truly consider it, you'll see its merits.” His thumb drummed against her collarbone. The cool leather did nothing to combat the frenzied rush of her bloodstream.

  Certainly, he couldn’t mean they would actually allow district folk to vote. Perhaps it would all be for show, a farce, or another game?

  Hazel narrowed her eyes. “You are asking me to lie then?”

  “I am not.” Snow’s thumb paused its beat.

  He couldn’t mean…

  “So we will truly vote?”

  His eyelids lowered gently as he nodded once in confirmation

  A shivering breath fell from her, “My recklessness is wearing off on you.”

  “One man’s recklessness is another’s inspiration.” A lopsided smile flashed as he scoured her face.

  “And you think this delusional idea will head off, Augustus?”

  A line cut deeply between his brows. “Being from the districts, I can’t fault you for your ignorance of his status, but Augustus is quite popular in the Capitol.”

  Studying the imperfection between his eyes, she asked, “More than you?”

  The rim of his lip curled. “A case could be made. He has been around longer and, over the years, has been very generous toward certain powerful causes.”

  She didn’t even want to know what causes those might be.

  “And you promoted him to Gamemaker. Seems you’ve made your bed.”

  “Perhaps you will help me unmake it. The Districts vastly outnumber those in the Capitol, and their participation could overturn any advantage Augustus can secure. Their votes…your vote, could tip the balance.”

  My vote….

  Hazel never imagined she'd live to hear those words, especially not from a former Gamemaker. He spoke like they were equals. Colleagues. Allies. The thought curdled her pulse. She could practically hear Silus’s voice in her head, full of righteous fury. She was half tempted to pull Leo’s weapon from her waistband.

  “Don’t think for one moment that I have forgotten your responsibility in all this. He may have brought my brother and me to the hanging tree, Coriolanus, but you were the noose.” Her tone cut hard. “What makes you any different from Augustus? How do I know you won’t just loop that same rope around Panem’s throat?”

  Shifting farther into the couch, the backs of her heels had no more room for retreat. The knife dug further into her flesh. Her balance wavered, and she reached behind her, gripping the top edge of the couch with her bleeding hand.

  His grasp on her shoulder lightened a fraction, and he leaned back, studying her.

  “Unlike Augustus, I understand that power requires balance. He seeks dominance without constraint. I seek order. Panem under Augustus would be chaos. Under me, it would have structure.” His stare flickered down her hand. “You can cling to your anger toward me, white-knuckle it for as long as you like, but the world is already shifting beneath your feet. What’s done is done. You can stay buried in it, drown in it… or you can shape what comes next. Besides,” he tilted his head toward the now blank screen. “It seems you already started. After all, it was you who got this ball rolling, did you not?”

  Her disbelief wavered at his words. The accusation wounded her, but not because it was cruel, but true. Guilt flared behind it. She’d all but chucked that ball. And Snow was trying to use it to his advantage.

  Snow, seemingly sensing her internal argument, reached forward, placing his hand over the one she was desperately gripping the couch with. “Do you remember what you asked of me on my birthday?"

  Her grip faltered. Of course, she remembered. Immunity for her siblings. And for the families of Victors. “Yes.”

  “Do you not think a president could grant such a request?”

  Her siblings flashed behind her eyes. A world where Sage, Lily, and Linden never stand for a reaping? Where Rowan was buried in his books and his writings instead of the plot beside Silus?

  “But why stop there?” He leaned in, “Imagine what future you might inspire me to create. Or erase.”

  There it was. Buried in his words, beneath all of it was something monstrous in its delicacy. Something she never expected from him.

  A dangerous flicker of what the world might be if he were telling the truth. Where her siblings grew old. Where the Games existed only in dusty history books.

  Where her family would live. And maybe, just maybe, where the Games would die.

  The notion nearly brought her to her knees.

  Was it possible?

  Would she be a fool to believe him... or a coward not to?

  She searched his face again for cracks, any fracture in his conviction. But it was maddening how placid he was. Composed, steady, as if he'd already counted on her resistance and was prepared to wear it down.

  And, damn, it was working.

  If she had the chance to stop more kids from ending up like Tulsi, Ruby, Ethan, or even Silus… could she really walk away?

  But the Capitol? Would the people who’d demanded their bloody circuses really allow the animal who entertained them to vote? Hell, they carried the dead on playing cards in their pockets.

  Her brow knit, “Let’s say I do this. Won’t the Capitol be in an uproar?”

  “That,” he said in earnest, “is exactly why I need you.”

  Hazel blanched and let out a humorless laugh.

  He pressed on, his gloved finger renewed its efforts to carve shapes into her skin. “Now, their new favorite Victor will be able to vote herself. Influential if you ask me.”

  “It is interesting that President Ravinstill agrees with your inspiration.”

  His eyes darted down to his hand, though he made a valiant effort to maintain his unaffected composure. “More or less.”

  “You are making me think it's definitely less.”

  “He’ll find it impossible to object once Panem’s beloved Victor announces it publicly on live television.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Horror spread across her face. “I… what?”

  “Sometimes forgiveness is easier to secure than permission,” he said, as if offering practical advice rather than political rebellion. “Though I hardly need to explain that logic to you, given your recent choices.” His teeth flashed, too white, too smooth. Something about it reminded her of Gaul.

  “You are insane.”

  “Consider me inspired.”

  “All this talk of stories and narratives.” Hazel scoffed, leaning backward. “Did you ever read the ending of Romeo and Juliet? They both die. I don’t know about you, but they’ll hang me for this.”

  He stepped closer, fingertips ghosting along her jaw until they found her chin. His other hand pried her bleeding one away from the couch, holding it between them and out of reach of her hidden weapon. “They wouldn’t dare. There would practically be protests in the streets if they ruined their new favorite obsession.”

  She felt the tears needling the backs of her eyelids. The first inklings of panic tingled against her skull. They wouldn’t need to hurt her. Not directly. Obsession was fickle. It didn’t protect anyone else.

  This was far more significant than saving the neck of a solitary district mayor. The stakes weren’t just high, they were incalculable.

  And what if Gaul or Augustus decided she’d overstepped? What if they wanted her punished?

  “The things we love most destroy us,” she whispered.

  Snow quieted.

  Who would they kill first? Her mom? Lily, Sage, Linden... or Rowan?

  A tear escaped down her cheek, and before she could corral it. His thumb hooked under her chin, tipping her head upward. His finger stopped the droplet in its tracks.

  There is one guarantee I need first.

  Her voice dropped to an airy whisper. “I want to cash in my favor.”

  Curiosity slid over his brow.

  “If I do this. I don’t care what happens to me, but… I can’t go through that again… I can’t. Swear to me you'll protect them…please.”

  His face softened a fraction as he watched her war with herself. “Deal.” Releasing her chin, he held out his hand for her to shake, “Work with me, help me win the Presidency, and there will be little outside my reach.”

  Fixing him with a serrated stare as she pressed her hand into his, “And our promise not to lie to each other?”

  “That's a promise I intend to keep.”

  She suddenly felt like a cornered doe, forced to align with the hunter.

  Panic melted into weary resignation, “Ok…” She exhaled, “I’ll do it.”

  His stare licked over every one of her features as if he could decode a message from her skin. Toweling away another tear, his countenance defrosted into a raw genuineness she had yet to witness.

  “I knew we would come to understand each other.” His hand hovered over her flesh, his eyes lighting up with genuine satisfaction. A blush bloomed along her collarbones.

  “Hazel, I…”

  Festus barreled in, face flushed and flustered. “Coryo, I can’t hold them back any longer. Lucky’s about to have an aneurysm out there.”

  Snow didn’t respond right away. Instead, he glanced down at their joined hands and the crimson bloom spreading across his glove. Hazel instinctively started to pull away, but he held firm.

  With a quiet sigh, he drew a pristine handkerchief from his jacket and wrapped it around her hand, binding it tight. Too tight. The sting shot up her wrist, but she bit back the sound. Welcoming the pain reminded her this wasn’t a dream.

  “Can’t have them see you bleed.” Glancing back, he threaded his fingers with hers, shielding her injured hand from view. The leather stretched vice-like over her skin.

  Snow watched her as he addressed Festus, “I’m ready.”

  She sucked in a deep lungful of air, rosewater syrup coating her senses.

  Her eyes lifted toward the door through which Festus had just entered. The noise beyond it swelled like waves pounding against the hull of a ship.

  Ignoring the barrage of warning bells in her mind, she nodded in a silent yet unmistakable: yes.

  He let loose another charm-filled smile before he gave her hand a light squeeze.

  “We’re ready.”

  With that, he led her out of the dining car, through the adjacent one to the doors. Waiting on the platform was the near-feral crowd of Capitol press.

  Leo’s gaze locked on her partially tear-streaked cheek. She quickly wiped at them with her sleeve, hoping it would pass for a reaction to the cold filling the car from the open doors.

  Snow didn’t pause. He stopped at the threshold of the train, Hazel at his side, still holding her hand.

  Lucky Flickerman was practically vibrating at the front of the horde, bouncing on his heels, passing his microphone between his hands.

  Festus, Indira, and Hazel’s guards moved in behind them.

  Snow was like a shepherd, calming his jittery flock. Said sheep chattered until he raised his free hand in a leisurely downward wave. The buzz dulled almost immediately.

  Lucky’s scrutiny scanned their connected hands, and his bouncing intensified.

  “Eventful day.” Snow smiled widely as the crowd bubbled with laughter. “Everyone having fun?”

  All the nervous anger had melted off him like slush disappearing under the warming attention of springtime. She did her best not to stare at the transformation. He had snapped into his charismatic persona so quickly that she was whiplashed.

  Lucky pushed his way in front, microphone extended like a weapon.

  Maybe Snow isn’t completely off base about stories…

  Hazel shuddered at the notion.

  “Senator Snow, can you confirm reports that the speech in District Nine has been canceled?”

  Snow’s smile lingered. “That’s correct. In light of the unfortunate behavior from their tributes before the games, the Capitol has chosen to withhold their participation in the Victory Tour. Actions have consequences. The tour is a privilege, not a right. I’m sure even District Nine would agree with that.”

  Murmurs rolled through the crowd.

  Lucky pressed, “And what about Districts Three and Six? There’s talk of cancellations there, too.”

  Snow nodded. “Yes. Similar reasoning applies. Certain boundaries were crossed. It’s only appropriate that the Capitol reassert its standards.”

  The murmurs thickened.

  “And District Eight?” a voice from the mass called. “Will their speech be canceled as well?”

  Snow turned his head, just enough for the camera to catch the mischief in his eye. “On the contrary. District Eight will be receiving something quite special. A surprise, let’s say.”

  The press erupted into a frenzy.

  Lucky, practically vibrating, called out over the crowd. “Care to share more?”

  Snow tutted, “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you now, would it? Besides…” He turned to the nearest camera with mock gravity. “I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing my dear colleague Augustus Trask on such a momentous day.”

  “Speaking of,” Lucky was nearly falling into the train as he leaned forward, “What do you have to say regarding Augustus’s announcement?”

  Snow’s smile widened, as if it were an amusing question yet wholly beneath him. Yet there was a twitch through the leather of his gloves.

  “I must say, I’m slightly surprised, but I’m all for a little healthy competition.”

  Lucky slicked back his copper-toned hair with an unsteady palm. “Are you saying you were unaware he was going to campaign?”

  “You won’t ever get me to confess to a total lack of foresight, Mr. Flickerman. I think we all know Augustus tends to…” He peered down at Hazel, his thumb sliding over her knuckle. “Follow in my footsteps, if you will.”

  What a soft way to say the man was an evil, scheming bastard.

  “Well, it seems you have your work cut out for you, Senator.”

  “I’ve never shied away from hard work.” Snow’s hand squeezed against hers again.

  Flickerman’s dark gaze settled on Hazel, then to her hand, trapped within Snow’s, and then back. “And you, Miss Hazel Marlowe? What are your thoughts?”

  Hazel’s hand was swampy, and she did her best to keep her fingers from fidgeting, “Coriolanus has better foresight than I do, Lucky. I wasn’t expecting that announcement any more than you were.”

  “I think I can speak for most of us here. We’re still recovering from the shock.” Lucky laughed. “But you seem confident in our Senator.”

  “I can tell you one thing for sure, Mr. Flickerman.” Hazel continued, Snow’s hand stilled within hers, “Coriolanus isn’t the youngest senator in our history by accident.”

  “He does have quite a bit of ambition.”

  Hazel targeted her attention straight into the camera, letting it land like a bullseye. If Augustus was watching, and she had no doubt he was, she hoped he knew the next line was meant for him. “More than most.”

  Snow’s hold cinched even further. The leather was so tightly pressed that she was sure the stitches along the seams would leave indents in her skin.

  “Careful, dear. Your bias is showing.” He winked before leveling his focus solely on their hands.

  Hazel made a show of looking down as well. “Perhaps, just a little.”

  “I guess I don’t have to ask who you endorse to be our next leader.”

  “Consider it official.” She cast a look out at the gathering. Their eagerness was tangible. They drank her in. Hungry eyes flitted between her and Snow. A range of expressions tidaled before her. Admiration, curiosity, even hints of …jealousy. It was grotesque yet mesmerizing how eagerly they bought it. She inadvertently shifted closer to Snow. His words rang true. They can’t help themselves.

  “Level with me, Marlowe.” Lucky leaned in, as if they were co-conspirators. “What do you think his odds are?”

  “You were a weatherman once, weren’t you, Lucky?”

  He lit up like she’d complimented his suit. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Then you, of all people, should know.” thumb shifting against the leather still coiled around her hand. “There’s something special about snow.”

  The man was practically and literally sparkling, “What would that be?”

  She swallowed, her thumb moved against Snow’s. If this didn’t solidify her part in his plan, nothing would.

  “It always lands on top.”

  Despite herself, she turned her attention to him. His stare burned cerulean and clear. Beautiful in the way venomous things often were. She’d aligned herself with the devil.

  A few murmured unintelligible words around them, but she didn’t have to hear them to understand.

  They saw it too. The rawness in his gaze was no longer hidden. Or maybe it was purposefully placed for their benefit. Either way, the press ate it up like candy. Whispers bloomed around them. That single line had done its job.

  That look said more than an entire interview of questions.

  He was either a superb actor or…

  She shoved the thought aside before it could root. Forcing the thought into a box, she slammed the lid down and shoved it deep into the farthest part of her mind where the dangerous things went.

  Not possible.

  She told herself she was imagining things. Told herself this was all part of the script, that he was simply playing to the cameras. To the narrative.

  He was using her, and she would use him back. That was the agreement.

  She pasted on the kind of soft smile they expected. Let them think it was chemistry.

  Lucky’s remaining questions faded into meaningless background noise. Snow answered each one effortlessly, as if he’d written them himself. By the time the crowd began to disperse, their hunger satiated, Hazel realized she was still holding his hand.

  Or maybe he was still holding hers.

  Eventually, he released her, eyes thoughtful as he murmured, “You may have given me credit just now, but you rise to challenges better than anyone I know.”

  Hazel shrugged, mustering a weak smile. “You’re pretty stiff competition.”

  His mouth curved into a satisfied grin. Too satisfied. “Good thing we’re on the same team. And what a formidable one we make.”

  It had the shape of a compliment, but it settled around her neck like a necklace made of rope.