THE SIREN'S SONG 𓇼 F. ODAIR

54 ~ the traitor

Carolina was allowed to leave the hospital a week after waking up. Her body was still covered with yellowed bruises, but she was able to walk without collapsing from the pain. The medicine used in the Capitol worked quickly, much quicker compared to what Carolina was used to in the districts.

Since her departure, she had been living with Cyrus in his apartment. She spent every moment of her day either by his side or under constant surveillance. It wasn't anything new to Carolina. She had grown used to eyes being everywhere in her years being a victor.

"Repeat back what you are going to say in your interview today," Cyrus said, walking beside Carolina as they headed to Caesar's studio.

"I am eternally grateful to be alive and back in the Capitol," Carolina said. "My fiancé and I are picking up right where we left off and are planning to get married this coming weekend."

Cyrus's hand tightened in Carolina's as he pulled her to a stop. His hands moved around her neck, and he pulled her into a kiss. When he pulled away, he looked carefully into Carolina's eyes, and his grip on her hardened.

"Perfect," he said. Carolina's eyes widened, and he let go of her. He grabbed her hand again and dragged her away, completely disregarding her gasps for air. "You are perfect, my darling."

When they arrived at the studio, Carolina was immediately escorted away to get her hair and makeup done.

"Hello, dear," a stylist said when she arrived.

Carolina's brows furrowed as she looked around the room and didn't recognize a single person in it.

Over the years, she must have seen hundreds of stylists walking in and out of rooms before parades or important interviews. Maybe she would see one or two new people that she wasn't familiar with every couple of months, but she had never seen an entire room full of new people.

A group of five stylists surrounded Carolina, immediately moving to cover up the yellowing bruises around her arms and chest and the newly forming ones on her neck. Carolina looked up at the woman in front of her, who wasn't touching her at all, only observing.

"Who are you?" Carolina asked.

"You can call me Sparkly, Ms. Seymour," the head stylist said. Based on her glittering wig and matching dress, Carolina could tell the woman took her name to heart. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Carolina stared at the woman carefully, flinching for a moment when one of the stylists pressed down on one of her bruises too hard.

"Where is my usual team?" Carolina asked. "The same team that has worked with me since I left the games."

Sparkly shrugged. "Gone."

"Gone?" Carolina asked. "Like..."

"Eliminated," Sparkly said, completely unfazed by her words. "Almost every tribute stylist from the last games was arrested for treason. Some of their deaths were performed live on television."

Performed. Carolina thought. She just viewed it as an extension of the games.

"Cissa," Carolina said slowly. "She's gone?"

"Cissa?" Sparkly thought for a moment. "You mean Narcissa Bordeaux? No, she's not dead. The other stylist for District 4 is, though. I can't seem to remember his name."

Carolina bit back a smile. It was awful, really. A man was dead.

"Affron."

"Oh, yes." Sparkly nodded. "The orange man. I remembered him crying a lot. Not as fun to watch.