The Spark Of War ➳ Finnick Odair ²

6 | The Golden Alliance

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Chapter Six
THE GOLDEN ALLIANCE
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When Mica eventually knocks on the door to summon me to dinner, I get up and take off my suit, fold it neatly, and set it on the table with my crown. In the bathroom, I wash the dark streaks of makeup from my face. I dress in a simple shirt and pants and go down the hall to the dining room.

Mica, Willow, Teak, and Nolan are all there, talking about the opening ceremonies, I suppose. But the only time I really feel present is when I purposely knock a dish of peas to the floor and, before anyone can stop me, crouch down to clean them up. An Avox is right by me when I send the dish over, and we two are briefly side by side, obscured from view, as we scoop up the peas. For just one moment our hands meet. I can feel his skin, rough under the buttery sauce from the dish. Then Mica's clucking at me from behind about how "That isn't your job, Ember!" and he lets go.

When we go in to watch the recap of the opening ceremonies, I wedge myself in between Willow and Nolan on the couch because I don't want to be next to Teak. As I watch the procession to the City Circle, I think how it's bad enough that they dress us all up in costumes and parade us through the streets in chariots on a regular year. Kids in costumes are silly, but aging victors, it turns out, are pitiful. A few who are on the younger side, like Johanna and Finnick, or  whose bodies haven't fallen  into  disrepair,  like  Seeder and Brutus, can still manage to maintain a little dignity. But the majority, who are in the clutches of drink or morphling or illness, look grotesque in their costumes, depicting cows  and  trees  and  loaves of  bread. Small wonder the crowd goes wild when Nolan and I appear, looking so young and strong and beautiful in our brilliant costumes.

As soon as it's over, I stand up and thank Teak for their amazing work and head off to bed, because I know I'm supposed to. Mica calls a reminder to meet early for breakfast to  work out  our  training strategy,  but  even  her  voice  sounds hollow. Poor Mica. She finally had a decent few years in the Games with me, and now it's all broken down into a mess that even she can't put a positive spin on. In Capitol terms, I'm guessing this counts as a true tragedy.

Nightmares plague my sleep, I'm at a party where everyone wears masks and someone with a flicking, wet tongue, who I suppose is Finnick, stalks me, but when he catches me and pulls off his mask, it's President Snow, and his puffy lips are dripping in bloody saliva. Finally I'm back in the arena, my own tongue as dry as sandpaper, while I try to reach a pool of water that recedes every time I'm about to touch it.

When I wake, I stumble to the bathroom and gulp water from the faucet until I can hold no more. I strip off my sweaty clothes and fall back into bed, naked, and somehow find sleep again.

I delay going down to breakfast as long as possible the next morning because I  really  don't  want  to  discuss our  training strategy.  What's to discuss? Every victor already knows what everybody else can do. Or used to be able to do, anyway. Somehow I'm just not up to talking about it. I take a long shower, dress slowly in the outfit Teak has left for training, and order food from the menu in my room by speaking into a mouthpiece. In a minute, sausage, eggs, potatoes, bread, juice, and hot chocolate appear. I eat my fill, trying to drag out the minutes until ten o'clock, when we have to go down to the Training Center. By nine- thirty,  Willow is  pounding on  my  door,  obviously fed  up  with  me, ordering me  to  the  dining room  NOW! Still,  I  brush  my  teeth  before meandering down the hall, effectively killing another five minutes.