Made of Ashes

Chapter 19

Despite reservations on Coin's side that it's too extravagant, and on Plutarch's side that it's too drab, the wedding is a smash hit. The three hundred lucky guests culled from 13 and the many refugees wear their everyday clothes, the decorations are made from autumn foliage, the music is provided by a choir of children accompanied by the lone fiddler who made it out of 12 with his instrument. So it's simple, frugal by the Capitol's standards. It doesn't matter because nothing can compete with the beauty of the couple. It isn't about their borrowed finery — Annie wears a green silk dress I wore in 5, Finnick one of Peeta's suits that they altered — although the clothes are striking. Who can look past the radiant faces of two people for whom this day was once a virtual impossibility?

Annie's a bit skittish around my prep team, so they begrudgingly leave Prim, Johanna, and I to help her get ready. Johanna turns out to be quite talented with makeup, and Prim's rather good at painting nails after spending so many hours watching Peeta with a brush. And while I'm usually useless when it comes to anything beauty-related, I'm enlisted to braid her hair into the elaborate updo my mother once did for my first Games and Victory Tour.

It turns out the bride's hands are as restless as her soon-to-be-husbands, as she frantically crochets the finishing touches on an intricately patterned veil for herself, barely glancing at what she's doing, but rather getting lost in the familiar rhythm of it. I wonder if that's where Finnick got the rope idea from in the first place, from the girl he loves who'd been forced to learn how to hold on a long time ago.

My ribs burn as I hold my arms up to braid and pin Annie's gorgeous, long waves of auburn hair, but I ignore it. It's really rather soothing to plait hair again, I think. The last time I'd braided someone else's hair was the month prior to that first Reaping, back when I used to do Prim's hair every morning before school. I'd always braid it however she wanted, tying it off with the odd ribbon once in a while if I'd had a good game haul the day before. It never left me enough time to do much more for mine than the usual braid down my back, but I didn't mind.

I'd stopped doing her hair after I came home from my first Games. I'm not sure why.

All I know is I wish I hadn't.

We make quick work on Annie, and it's not long until she's handing me her finely knitted veil and I secure it in the updo, draping it as prettily as I can around her shoulders. She meets my eyes in the mirror, staring at me intently and grabs my hand. "Thank you."

I'm afraid that if I open my mouth to say anything that I'm gonna start blubbering and I won't be able to stop, so I just nod, and squeeze her hand warmly.

Jo's been selected to walk Annie down the aisle, and I've never seen her look so proud and uncharacteristically misty-eyed, nor Annie so calm and at peace.

My chest tightens a bit at the look of pure adoration on Finnick's face. It's an expression I know all too well, and one that was once directed at me by my own husband in a different place, a different time. Now replaced by a look of hatred. Fear.

But today isn't about our love — it's about theirs. And I'll be damned if it isn't the most astonishing thing I've witnessed in a long time.

Dalton, the cattle guy from 10, conducts the ceremony, since it's similar to the one used in his district. But there are unique touches of District 4. A net woven from long grass that covers the couple during their vows, the touching of each other's lips with salt water, and the ancient wedding song, which likens marriage to a sea voyage.

No, I don't have to pretend to be happy for them.

After the kiss that seals the union, the cheers, and a toast with apple cider, the fiddler strikes up a tune that turns every head from 12. We may have been the smallest, poorest district in Panem, but we know how to dance. Nothing has been officially scheduled at this point, but Plutarch, who's calling the propo from the control room, must have his fingers crossed. Sure enough, Greasy Sae grabs Gale by the hand and pulls him into the center of the floor and faces off with him. People pour in to join them, forming two long lines. And the dancing begins.