HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 113

Folding down the queen of hearts that had just lost him yet another hand of Blackjack, Coriolanus grabbed his whiskey and knocked back whatever remained in the crystal glass. This was a drinking game after all, and he was the loser.

"Woah," said Festus, "are you trying to get yourself drunk?"

"You know I never get drunk," replied Coriolanus, scooping up their cards and reshuffling the deck.

Since Festus was the host, he'd been allowed to deal, but what were the odds that the queen of hearts had already done Coriolanus in three times tonight? Although he didn't mind losing for once—he wanted to lose, actually—it was getting too uncanny.

"Exactly. I've never seen you like this since the Games." When Coriolanus glanced up, Festus added, "Our Games. Remember your girl? What was her name? Lily Greenbird?"

Whether Festus's memory truly failed him or Coriolanus was being tested, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to take the bait.

"You had been so worried about her."

Coriolanus scoffed. "I didn't realize you saw anything more than Persephone's eyes in those two weeks."

"Now, now." Festus's tone was half-chiding and half-teasing. "You're my best friend. I look out for you. I'd never seen you so on edge."

"Of course I was." Coriolanus calmly performed the riffle shuffle. "I was trying to win, and her being alive was pretty much everything that counted."

"Sure, but there was that kiss, before they went into the arena." Festus wiggled his brows suggestively. "That was some kiss."

"You know I'm irresistible to the female populace," said Coriolanus tiredly. "Besides, she needed encouragement, and hope. How better to offer it? You can't deny its effectiveness."

"Yeah, worked like a charm. Pity you never found her."

The five weeks Coriolanus had gone missing from the Capitol had been attributed solely to Dr. Gaul. His unorthodox summer vacation had been part of her scheme to groom him as her protégé, and, unless he'd succeeded and passed her test, had to be kept in the dark. She had given him the idea herself, quoting: "Can't have people thinking I've taken a lovesick puppy under my wing."

If anyone had enquired about his winning tribute upon his glorified return from the districts, Coriolanus had fielded their concern with vague responses of disappointment: too busy training, never let off the base except for official duties. He could not have revealed any association with the Hob, the Covey, or the hooligans that ran amok in that wild country. He could not have alluded to his sentimental, impulse-driven self, going to the ends of the world in search for a girl.

No, he wasn't a lovesick puppy.

No, he was Coriolanus Snow, most eligible bachelor in the city. The ladies came to him, not the other way around.

"You two were quite the pair."

"She's district, Festus." Coriolanus laid the deck before him, which was totally ignored.

"That wasn't what you said."

"That was my strategy! I wouldn't have had half my sponsors if people didn't believe she could be Capitol."

How had the conversation spiraled to this?

"I know, I know," conceded Festus. "You were always good at this. I'm not surprised you've completely transformed the Hunger Games as Head Gamemaker. But I wonder where she is that even you can't find her to come back."

"Probably ran as far as she could from the arena."

Festus laughed. "Where's further than District Twelve?"