A Waking Nightmare (TNHID Book 2)

Chapter 15

Willow

I expected to feel the heavy warmth from the crowds pressing in on me. Instead, all I feel is cold detachment.

I know with a sudden surety that I could kill every one of them if I wanted to. And I want to. Desperately. But they're technically not the ones putting me in the arena.

No, I'm reserving my murderous rage for a more worthy target.

I try to relax my face and appear meek. It doesn't take the view of me on the television screen to know that I am not fully successful.

My feet wobble slightly as the chariot travels over the bumpy road. I almost stumble when the horses step over a particularly large rock.

Blaise catches me by the arm and prevents me from a rather humiliating fall. I don't know what possesses me to do it, but when he begins to let go, I grab his wrist.

"Don't. I need the restraint."

He doesn't force me to elaborate, but his hand around mine reminds me exactly what kind of facade I am trying to put on. Rather, than focusing on the temptation to kill every living thing in my vicinity, I concentrate on the viselike grip Blaise has on me. Something tells me he needs the support as much as I do.

For the first time, I really look at Blaise. His red hair is his most obvious feature. The black costume only accentuates it. While I look like coal that is about to burst into flame, he looks like he has already been ignited.

His eyes are like emeralds, with specks of amber and gold in them. He is tall and wiry. Even though I know he is part of the merchant class, he is as thin as the poorer people in the district.

His face is peppered with light brown freckles, and his complexion is pale. But in the dim lighting, his face looks darker. His features are shadowed, which highlights his sharp jaw and cheekbones.

I turn forward again and focus on the district 11 tributes. They are wearing denim, to represent the agricultural aspect in the district. They both appear to be older, and I decide to stay away from them in the arena.

I smile as widely as I can, but it doesn't reach my eyes. Even though it goes against everything I stand for, I wave to the crowd. My movements feel robotic, and I don't see any of the people. All I notice is the tightening in my hand as Blaise and I grasp each other. I barely detect the time going by, but it is still too slow.

I can feel the weight of every eye on me, and I know that I must practically be cutting off the circulation Blaise's hand. But he doesn't complain.

I expected him to shrink under the pressure of all of the people, but he stands tall. But I don't miss the slight tremor in his free hand. We're all trying to hide the nerves.

After what feels like an eternity, our chariot begins to circle in City Circle, stopping outside of the president's mansion.

I stand stiff as the grand doors on the balcony open, allowing multiple members of the Cabinet to emerge. Afterward, the man himself appears.

Gale Hawthorne. My aunt's murderer, and the reason for all of our problems since then.

He lifts up a hand to command silence from the crowd. To my disgust, everyone shuts their mouths immediately. The president really does have them wrapped around his finger.

I can't hide my distaste as I glare at the president. I don't care if it puts me in more danger than I'm already in. When he gazes at our chariot, I can see that he lingers on me for a few seconds. Good. He knows exactly who I am.

I loosen my grasp on Blaise but don't let go completely. I am not sure who's at fault, but someone's palms were very sweaty. Blaise takes the signal from me and doesn't grip me as tightly. We are both hesitant to let go.