HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 43

"I couldn't find her," announced Satyria, sauntering back to Coriolanus's side. "But I found my niece—she's her best friend. She'll take care of it."

"Athena, right?" he said, intercepting the wine glass his ex-professor had plucked off a passing Avox. As if she wasn't drunk enough. "I hear she's a huge fan of the Games."

Satyria shot him a quizzical look, then erupted into laughter so hearty—and loud—several couples nearby paused, turning to gawk.

"So long as you didn't hear it from me."

Her subsequent chortles attracted more stares, and Coriolanus sighed inwardly. For a prospective dean, such behavior was unbecoming in public. Perhaps if he hinted at the possibility of her new role, she might actually want to control herself.

Setting down the chardonnay, he led her into the middle of the floor and placed her arm around him. She wasn't so severely intoxicated as to be listing to one side or at risk of defiling his brand new tux—just enough to be bereft of good sense. Five minutes away from alcohol could only improve her state of mind. A partner for him would also keep the ladies at bay. Not that tonight was an occasion that customarily required dates. Members of the opposite gender seemed to deem this irrelevant nonetheless, laser focus only the fact that he was without a plus-one.

"Another dance?" Satyria's eyes widened in mock astonishment. "You flatter me, General Snow."

Coriolanus played along, flashing a shy but winsome smile.

"Oh, stop that. You know I'm always up for a dance with my favourite teacher."

She giggled, then adopted an admonitory air.

"You're making me public enemy number one, Coryo." Satyria had embraced the nickname once he had graduated from the Academy. "Women line up around the block for the chance to be in my position, and here you are, letting an old bat jump the queue—twice. What will people say?"

"You're not an old bat," reassured Coriolanus, even though, headed as she was into her fifties, it could sooner rather than later become an inevitability. "Besides, I'm not thinking about that right now."

"No?" Satyria smirked. "How did my dear, beautiful niece fall under your radar, then?"

"I don't date students, Satyria. My apprentice just talks about her aplenty."

"Ahhh." She dragged out the syllable, her tone laced with both comprehension and meaning. "Your appointment caused quite the row, you know. There came a point when I thought their friendship just mightn't make it through this crisis. I'm glad I was wrong. The Three Musketeers just won't be right with any one missing."

"Three Musketeers?" repeated Coriolanus, puzzled.

"And Olympia Heavensbee," replied Satyria. "Those three are inseparable. Well, were."

"I never meant to create any discord."

"Of course not," said Satyria, as though the notion was unthinkable. "It was just quite the upheaval. When the faculty heard, most of them were surprised—but not me. Lilith, she's one of the most remarkable students—aside from yourself—I've come across in all my years of teaching."

He shrugged. "She's gifted."

"It's not just that." Satyria's expression became faraway, like she was reminiscing something. "I can see why you're drawn to her. She reminds you of someone, doesn't she?"

Her use of the word drawn had irked Coriolanus, but it was this final line that caused his body to run cold.

"It's okay, Coryo," said Satyria in a soft, comforting voice, as she squeezed his palm. "It's okay to miss him."