Star Crossed Killers

7: The Avox

The twelve chariots fill the loop of the City Circle. On the buildings that surround the Circle, every window is packed with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol. Our horses pull our chariot right up to President Snow's mansion, and we come to a halt. The music ends with a flourish.

With my new promise in mind, I barely notice as all twelve chariots file in around the loop of the City Circle. Every window, every balcony, every roof is packed with the Capital's most prestigious citizens. I'm focused on Peeta's blonde eyelashes and smiling lips. He glances down at me and grins.

"They love you," he says over the roar of the crowd. Since we are apparently presenting ourselves as a team, given that we are holding hands, which no other set of tributes is doing, I hope that any love for me is also love for him. Besides, I hear his name being chanted just as often as mine, so my smile back up at him isn't forced at all. I feel the hope in my uplifted cheeks and squinted eyes as I take in every precious detail of the boy beside me.

"They love you," I say back, which almost makes Peeta's smile falter. He saves it and squeezes my hand, but in that split second I know we have conflicting interests. He's going to try and keep me alive the same way I will him. While that may present a problem later on, I let it slide for now, because President Snow walks out onto the main balcony.

He's thin and small, and in stature reminds me of some of the older men, retired townsfolk, from District 12. His hair is paper white and unnaturally full for his age. He begins speaking, welcoming us to the Capital, thanking us for our contribution to the games.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor," the president finishes his speech, his beady eyes scanning over all of us, spending an extra second or so on Peeta and I. The national anthem plays, and it is customary to cut to the faces of each tribute, which does happen, but Peeta and I given a disproportionate amount of screen time.

I can't blame  the person in charge. As twilight leaves and night takes over, it becomes harder and harder to your eyes off the flickering flames of our fiery debut. When we parade around the circle one last time before entering the training center, all eyes, and cameras, are on us.

The doors shut behind us and we are immediately surrounded by our prep teams. The babble on and on about how beautiful we were. While I might not like the bumbling group, I have to agree with them. Peeta is marvelous.

We step down from our chariot and I glance around at our peers. Several are shooting glares our way. I catch the eye of the male tribute from Two. His eyes confirm that he won't be forgiving us for outshining him anytime soon. I give him a slight nod, and he sneers. I smirk, and the District Two boy nods and is about to open his mouth when I feel a tug on my hand.

"Cinna and Portia are here," Peeta says warmly, shooting a cold, hardened glare above my head. He pulls me away toward our stylists.

Cinna and Portia extinguish our flames with some sort of white spray from a metal canister. It makes a funny hissing noise and I'm relieved to no longer be on fire. Our rather large group begins walking over to the elevators.

I look down at my hand that is still wrapped in Peeta's. I realize his fingers are literally turning purple.

"Peeta! Your fingers!" I exclaim in a half about half whisper, tugging my hand from his.

"Huh?" Peeta looks down at his hand "Oh, it's fine Katniss. Don't worry." I know he's lying about it being fine because my hand is cramping, and I have to massage the stiffness out. Peeta follows suit, but he's smiling the whole time so I don't worry too much.