HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

Prologue

As Coriolanus surveyed himself in the mirror, a certain resentment gnawed at him, the way it did every morning. Commissioned officers didn't train nearly as hard or as regularly as enlisted soldiers, but his military vocation nevertheless ensured his body remained fit and trim—strong, even. His abs were not terribly defined, but he was happy to flaunt them, along with his toned limbs, during the summer. While his service uniform, tailored, did justice to his lean physique, there was nothing it could do about his height.

His mediocre stature was something he had to live with, all by the fault of the rebels. If not for the war they'd waged, he would have had proper food and nutrition. He would have had a proper family; he would have grown up properly. But no, the districts had decided mutiny suited them and rose up against their government.

In the nation's arduous road back to peace, Coriolanus had been starved, orphaned, and pauperized. He had money now, and access to all manner of delicacies he could imagine—even those he couldn't. No amount of riches would resurrect his parents, though. That was all on the rebels, as were those few inches he had been robbed of. It was just another reason for him to despise the districts. 

With a deep breath, he tugged on his jacket and stood up straighter, promising himself that he would make them pay for it—for all of it.

"Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem, I salute you."

There was no mockery now, no joking tone in his whisper. The notion might have been far-fetched to the point of ridiculousness when he had been a teenager, but at twenty-eight, he could envision the path, as well as all its stepping stones and obstacles. He knew what he wanted, and how to get it.

Outside his room, instead of heading directly for the elevator, Coriolanus set off to the left; he wanted to check on Tigris. A sliver of light filtered through the slit beneath her door, and he gave it a gentle knock. There was no response. After a moment's indecision, he gingerly turned the knob and pushed it open. Tigris had fallen asleep at her table, her back in a position that was assuredly uncomfortable, if not downright injurious. Seriously, she needed to take better care of herself, his cousin. It hadn't been that long ago that she'd had to be on bedrest due to overworking, and here she was again, risking her health for her job.

Quietly, he stepped inside, meaning to move her somewhere more restful. Then he caught sight of his surroundings and realized that, despite the spaciousness of the area, no such place existed within the four walls of her room. Her chaise lounge and most of her bed were covered in clothes, and it piqued him to discover a bundle of a small person occupying the rest of the mattress—Tigris's mattress. Snorting, he shook his head at the figure, unaware the day would come that he would gaze at the very same silhouette and find contempt to be the very last emotion to cross his mind.