SONS AND DAUGHTERS, thg

02. MOULTING SEASON

02. ᴍᴏᴜʟᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ

The train hummed beneath their feet as it inched closer to the Capitol. The window outside was a blur of green and gold, but Kassiani didn't see any of it.

She saw Ares Virel.

His name looped through her mind like a prayer or a curse. The image of him standing on that stage yesterday, shoulders squared, jaw sharp and unyielding, the smirk pulling at his lips like he already knew how the story would end, was burned into her memory with frightening clarity. His voice when he'd said his name, the way he owned the room like it owed him something. She didn't know him. Had never heard his voice before that moment. But something inside her had shifted violently, like the floor beneath her had given out.

It was a sickness. That was the only way to describe it. She didn't even know him. But somehow, it felt like he'd looked through the screen and split her right open.

"What's going on with you?"

Kohver's voice dragged her back. She blinked once, then again, her mind still fogged with him: Ares.

No, she couldn't be acting this way; it was ridiculous.

"What?" she said too quickly.

"Something's been up with you." Kohver set his cup down. His gaze was too knowing. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she muttered, lying like it was second nature. "Just... the games, I guess."

Kohver didn't buy it. "You've been off since yesterday. You barely touched dinner, and I caught you staring through the wall for five minutes straight last night like a fucking Capitol doll with its batteries fried."

The mentor looked at her, eyes soft but discerning. "You forget I know what this looks like, Spade. Whatever it is, you don't have to tell me, but don't let it mess with your head when the kids need you."

The conversation was luckily cut short with the swish of the doors opening. Peach burst in first, her perfume coating the air like pesticide. Bard and Sisel followed behind.

Sisel looked like she'd aged a year overnight. Her skin was blotchy, her expression vacant. She clung to the sleeve of her shirt like it was the only thing grounding her to reality. Bard, in contrast, looked more annoyed than afraid. His eyes were flat, unreadable. His hands in his pockets like this was all a mild inconvenience.

Kassiani watched them, her guilt stirring like rot beneath the surface. She was supposed to protect them; teach them how to stay alive, maybe even help them win. But she couldn't focus. Not when her heart was somewhere else.

​​"Morning, morning!" Peach trilled like they were waking up in a luxury hotel and not their morbid reality.

Kassiani gave a nod that didn't quite make it to her lips. Kohver just grunted and stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork.