“Coryo, this is absolute madness.” Festus swept toward them. “Never trusted that bastard, and clearly he’s lost his mind. I think the situation calls for a stiff drink and a plan.”

  “Agreed.” Snow softly chuckled as he pulled Hazel’s injured hand up between them, untying his handkerchief. In the short amount of time, it had turned a mucky shade of pink, like the innards of a slaughtered animal.

  She shivered. It reminded her of Silus and their first day in the Capitol. When she had tried to hide his injury from the wolves. However, Snow’s motivations for hiding hers were less than selfless, and he was one of those very wolves. Might even be their leader someday.

  “Miss Lovegood. See that her bandages are replaced,” he commanded.

  “Yes, of course, Senator.” Indira straightened, “Come on, dear, let’s get you changed before blood gets on that dress.”

  “Get some rest. It is a long journey to Eight,” Snow advised in her direction while letting Festus steer him toward the train’s bar. “You are right, Fest; I think a strategy update is overdue. I also need a campaign manager.”

  Festus stopped short. “Was that a job offer?” He paused. “Because if it is, I’ll need a raise and hazard pay.”

  Snow’s smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That’s negotiable.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Snow fixated his scrutiny on Sable. “Pytash, you’ll join us. We need to discuss adjustments to security protocols.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sable agreed.

  Leo kept his lips pressed together, but she could feel the questioning stare. He stalled a step behind her. She knew he wanted to talk, to ask her all the questions swimming through his stare. In a way, she wanted to tell him equally as much. More than anyone else. She wanted to unload everything. But just because she wanted to, didn’t mean she could. Or should. Both of their safety depended on her silence. However, the concept might be a lost cause already.

  Snow’s gaze drifted toward the peacekeeper.

  Sable caught it too. “Draytons,” he barked, waving for Bellona and Leo to follow. “With me.”

  Bellona gave Hazel a brief glance before she fell in behind Sable without a word.

  Leo stayed put a second longer. “And her injury?”

  “I promise to keep her alive while you all are gone.” Indira insisted.

  “She can handle it.” Bellona agreed.

  Hazel coaxed him with the faintest of nods. Go.

  “Yes, sir,” Leo agreed as he peeled himself away.

  Festus looped an arm around his shoulders with a dry laugh. “Relax, Drayton. It’s a drink, not an execution.”

  Snow, calm as the forest after rainfall, glimpsed at Hazel one last time before disappearing down the corridor.

  Festus’s commentary about poor decisions and liver function echoed after them.

  The low-grade terror within her wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or dissolve into full-blown panic.

  “All that preparation and barely any camera time,” Indira muttered under her breath, eyeing her ensemble with disappointment. Cupping Hazel’s raw hand, she led her toward the quiet sanctuary of her room, immediately confiscating the jewelry while grumbling about missing pieces of gold.

  After exchanging the dress for a shirt and pants from home, Hazel sank down at the table. She couldn’t ignore her injury any longer.

  With the remnants of the evening sunlight soaking in through the windows, she set to work. Inch by inch, she detangled the layers of destroyed bandaging.

  “You need assistance with that?” Indira called, stretching as she hung up the clothing. A little frown pulled on her lips as she did.

  Hazel shrugged, “It’s about time I started caring for this myself. Won’t always have you around.”

  “Or Leo,” Indira replied softly.

  Hazel’s fingers paused, and she peered up at the woman.

  Indira didn’t look at her. Instead, she continued to push and pull the hangers like she was doing something productive. Yet, Hazel suspected it wasn’t the case. “Asking for help isn’t weakness, you know.”

  Hazel bit down on her lip, “Just dangerous.”

  Indira peered at her then. “Best to be armed then?”

  Hazel dropped her stare back down to her work.

  “I noticed your new weaponry was not in the dress.”

  Hazel resumed unraveling the gauze but said nothing.

  Indira sighed when Hazel didn’t answer, “I just hope it is somewhere no one will find it.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “That is all I do anymore. Though complimentary pillow chocolates, the staff leave every night, it does help take the edge off.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Didn’t take you for a chocoholic like Sable.”

  “Just full of surprises, I guess.” Indira’s sisterly tone made Hazel’s eyes twitch. “Speaking of. What happened today?”

  Hazel clenched her teeth. The last of the bloody material pulled away, and she dropped it on the growing heap upon the table. In the center of her wound, a fresh split in the fragile skin stared back. Too much pressure. Not enough rest.

  “I feel like I’ve proven you can trust me, dear.”

  Hazel met her eyes then. “I do.” The District Seven escort Hazel had once despised was now one of the most treasured people in her life. Which meant she was a living, breathing double-edged sword. And any harm that might come to her would, in turn, injure Hazel as well. “It is not my trust in you that is lacking.”

  “Danger, right?”

  Hazel pressed her lips together.

  Indira resumed her rearranging of the closet. Though Hazel could tell she was studying her from her periphery.

  Hazel wetted down several squares of gauze with a bubbling clear cleanser.

  “He wants you to campaign for him, is it?”

  Indira had known about their ruse from the beginning. She was the first to warn her about it, but that didn’t mean Hazel wanted to endanger her anymore.

  “Something like that.”

  Indira folded her arms, turning her body to face her. “What else did he ask of you?”

  Hazel hissed as she pressed the ice-cold gauze into the center of her angry wound. It was a strange mix of sharp and soothing as she slid it over her flesh. “Indira, please.”

  Hazel’s voice wavered as she once again met the woman’s eyes. “I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”

  The gauze came away berry colored.

  I’ve had enough for a lifetime.

  A long exhale from Indira followed as she crossed the room, settling her bejeweled hand on Hazel’s shoulder. “Dear, don’t misunderstand. I’m glad you’re finally seeing how serious this is. The off-the-cuff speeches, the grand gestures… it is all risky.” She gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t want to add more weight. You’re already carrying enough. You don’t owe me anything. But I need you to know something. If it gets worse, or if you start to fall under it, come to me. Day or night. I’ll help however I can.”

  Her tone grew even more serious. “Asking for help isn’t weakness. We’re stronger if we stick together. Understand?”

  Hazel stared up at the woman, eyes softening but resolve solidifying. “Understood.”

  Indira relaxed her shoulders, “And for the love of all things holy, don’t let anyone see that knife Leo gave you.”

  A disbelieving laugh broke down the tension in Hazel’s body. Indira must have caught the inscription. “Yes ma’am.”

  She and Indira had another secret to share. Though somehow she knew the woman meant what she had said.

  With that, Indira resumed her fussing over the closet. Focusing on a particularly lovely navy dress, lamenting the hours of ironing it most likely required.

  Abruptly, the door to Hazel’s room swung open.

  Bellona entered but stopped short when she spotted Indira. Her hands slipped into her pockets. “Uhh...sorry, my shift just started. Should I come back?”

  “Nonsense.” Indira smiled, “I’m just leaving. This dress isn’t going to iron itself.”

  Bellona nodded. “I bet you'll do a great job at that.”

  Indira grinned, though a sparkling confusion shot out from her stare, “At ironing?”

  A blush colored Bellona’s cheeks, “Uh... yeah. I mean no. I mean...”

  “I’m sure Indira’s a pro,” Hazel interjected, winding a fresh gray tone bandaging around her palm. Bellona nearly jumped at the sound as if she had forgotten Hazel’s presence.

  “Don’t tease, dear. But the private is right. I am quite capable of ironing.” Indira laughed lightly, folding the garment over her forearm. “Among other things.”

  She dipped her head gracefully toward Bellona. “Private Drayton.”

  Bellona copied the gesture. Though it was more muscular than graceful. “Miss Lovegood.”

  With a sharp wink in Hazel’s direction, Indira whisked out the door. The instant it shut, Bellona seemed to deflate. Her breathing returned to a normal rate. Hazel pressed her freshly bandaged fist against her lips, shielding a grin.

  Spinning around, Bellona’s gaze washed over Hazel. Another blush followed, along with an irritated frown. “Stop.”

  Hazel shook her head but couldn’t hold back a bubbling laugh.

  Bellona ground her fingers over her temple. “That obvious?”

  “I think we left obvious back in Twelve.”

  Bellona’s cheek color deepened until her face matched the bloody gauze heaped on the table, “All right, all right. I get it.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” Hazel’s teasing tone faded, “It is understandable. Indira is wise, caring…”

  “Beautiful, well-spoken,” Bellona blurted.

  With another soft giggle, she murmured, “Relax, Bells. Your secret is safe.”

  Bellona’s shoulders relaxed.

  “That is, until Festus figures it out, and then all bets are off. He’ll never let either of you live it down.”

  Bellona’s face lost some of its rosy hue.

  Tossing the refuse into the garbage can, Hazel’s eyes settled on the remaining items. Before her was the bottle of sleeping pills, her poor man’s diamond, and Grace’s coin. The tape player and cassette were still buried in the bottom of her bag.

  Picking up the medication, she spun it in her hands. The pills inside rattled like a children’s toy.

  “You gonna actually take one of those?” Bellona eyed the bottle as Hazel tossed it back and forth.

  Tapping her nails against the plastic, she muttered, “Debatable.”

  “You need rest.”

  “Don’t we all.” Hazel pressed the edge of her nail harder into the side. Turning it over, she mumbled, “Maybe later.”

  “Maybe now,” Bellona argued. “It’s been a long, sort of weird day.”

  “Understatement, my friend.” Hazel sighed, studying the little bags under Bellona’s eyes. It suddenly seemed unfair that she was on the night shift, considering she had been up all day again outside of the short nap she had accidentally had on their journey to Nine. “You sure were struggling to stay awake earlier.”

  “I’m serious, Marlowe.”

  “So am I.”

  She pointed the bottle at the peacekeeper, “Want one?”

  Bellona didn’t answer, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  Bellona eyeballed the door, “I’m awake. Enough to watch you all night.”

  The cornflower-adorned coin called to her. Maybe Hazel didn’t know how to win Snow’s game. But she could keep a promise. That much she could do.

  “Perfect,” Hazel replied, suddenly rising from her chair. Bottle in hand. Pacing across the quarters, she chucked it into the bedside table’s drawer. “There’s something I want to do before we leave Nine.”

  Bellona frowned. “Should I even ask?”

  Hazel crossed back to the table and slipped the diamond into her pocket. Then the coin. “You said you watched my Games. Then you know.”

  Bellona groaned as Hazel began to put on her coat. “Marlowe, it's unsafe.”

  Swinging her bag across her shoulders, she smiled. “Good thing I have my own personal guard.”

  Bellona moaned, but Hazel could tell she was about to cave. “You are turning me into Pytash.”

  “Hmm,” Hazel said, sliding her bag into place over her head. “Is that why you're taking his chocolate?”

  Bellona’s eyes saucered. “How did you—”

  Hazel grinned, “I’m sure Indira has enjoyed it, even if she thinks it is the staff leaving them in her room every night.”

  Bellona shook her head as she secured the strap on her holster. “Fine, you win. Let’s get this over with.”