Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Lucy Gray, having languished in Dr. Gaul’s lab, would be long dead, and his heart dead with her.”
-Suzanne Collins, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, 341

–

Coriolanus mounted the steps up to the Citadel with trepidation. It was a beautiful building, its dome and vaulted ceiling evoking a cathedral, but one dedicated to something real, not a fairy tale. The Citadel stood as a symbol of science and the Capitol’s control over it. It was one of the few grand old government structures to survive bombing during the war. As much as he admired it, he didn’t think he would ever feel comfortable here, though. It held too many memories.

Clemensia Dovecote had delayed university due to her health. The last time he’d seen her, rainbow scales had covered half her face and her eyes had slit pupils, like a snake. It seemed like the venom had done something to her mind too. She’d snapped at her parents in front of him and ranted at him about her idiot doctors and useless friends until he’d excused himself. 

Her parents were maintaining the lie that their daughter’s condition was due to a “flu.” They had the stoicism of well-bred Capitol citizens, so he couldn’t tell if they were naive or just scared. Scared, probably. Last summer, he’d learned that the powerful people of this city could play games with anyone’s child they wished.

Coriolanus glanced down at his watch, checking that he’d be his customary fifteen minutes early for his meeting with Dr. Gaul. It wouldn’t do to slight her. If he got on her bad side, there would be no soft landing, no caring parents eager to spend their fortune on doctors for him. 

He was taking an independent study with Dr. Gaul on political philosophy this semester. Walking into the vast main room, he prepared for a long wait. He made sure to arrive early, but the doctor was often late too. He didn’t know if she was testing him or just too caught up in her work, but he didn’t mind. He had plenty to read in his book bag, if he got bored.

Glancing around the vast space, with its high ceiling and concrete pillars, he saw that there was a new display. Off to the left of the main entrance doors stood a tall glass case. It held a long facsimile tree branch with a pine cone shaped nest hanging from it. A few golden insects hovered around the nest, entering and exiting their home idly. 

Coriolanus approached and looked down at the small white card at the bottom of the display. It said they were tracker jackers. He recalled hearing about those in school. They were a wasp muttation, but far more aggressive than real wasps. If the glass on the display broke, they would attack the moment they caught his scent. Their bites would torment their victim with terrible hallucinations as they killed him. 

He wasn’t surprised to learn from the display card that Dr. Gaul had designed these mutts. Her talent for genetic engineering was legendary. At its best, her work was like a composition in DNA: the marriage of nature and human will into perfect order. At its worst, though…

He recalled a class session where they had discussed one of Niccolo Machiavelli’s lesser known works while sitting in the same room as one of her experiments. The doctor had engineered several Avoxes to have gills for underwater respiration. She hadn’t refined the process yet, though. She had mentioned casually that their gills weren’t providing them enough oxygen. They’d floated there in the large tank with its cloudy water, opening their mouths in silent, gulping screams, slowly succumbing to hypoxia. 

Coriolanus hadn't liked it. Not for any sentimental reasons, of course. He’d just thought her sadism was overriding her better judgment. These mutts were a failed experiment that the doctor was terminating. Fair enough. But why kill them this way? It was so needless.

And Dr. Gaul had wanted to chat and enjoy afternoon tea in front of this! She had been so lighthearted about it. She enthused about the delightful contradictions in Machiavelli while Coriolanus had tried not to squirm in his seat.

Machiavelli was famous for his advice to tyrants, but he had spent most of his political career as an ambassador for the Florentine Republic before that. He’d even written in favor of democracy. Coriolanus had never read an argument like that before. Writings like that had been banned by the Ministry of Information over a century ago. He'd gone in expecting a good laugh, but it wasn’t that stupid. Machiavelli made some good points. This was all a test, of course. He’d made sure to prepare an airtight critique in his notes, all but forgetting his own impressions in the process.

It wasn't like it mattered. The only people who believed in that sort of thing now were, at best, fools like Sejanus. At worst, they were district trash who'd rather slit the throat of a well-bred Capitol boy like Coriolanus than discuss the finer points of political philosophy with him.

His notes had given him enough material for the first forty-five minutes or so, but by the end, he’d run out of things to say. All he’d been able to think about was the tank. There it had sat, mere feet away from their table. Even when he’d kept his eyes from wandering over, he could still hear the grotesque sloshing sounds the dying test subjects made. 

“When the Medicis returned to Florence, do you know what they did first?” Dr. Gaul had asked, a smile forming at the corner of her lips. 

The Avoxes were right there, just within his peripheral vision, their gills twitching, dying with each tortured breath. They were just Avoxes. Beneath his notice. But their faces were so human and so pained.

It had felt like he was slowly suffocating too, just sitting near them. He had hated himself for this weakness. Hadn’t he learned yet? The whole world was the Hunger Games. The only question was if you had what it took to be a victor. And here, with these pitiful Avoxes, was an object lesson in what happened to the kind of people who lost.

The doctor would think less of him if she knew he’d even spared them a thought.

She hadn’t seemed to notice, though. She had just leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of tea. “They had everyone like him rounded up and tortured, of course! And, oh, the methods they used back then –” she tsked. “So rudimentary. Nonetheless, it worked. Our friend Niccolo fled to the countryside to recover and, a few months later, tucked his tail between his legs and,” she made a slow, creeping motion with her two fingers along the shiny surface of the metal table, “came crawling back to them with The Prince as a gift.” 

Coriolanus stared down at the tracker jacker display, annoyed by the memory. It had been all he could do that day not to lose his lunch in the nearest trash bin. It was lucky that they only had to meet once a month.

–

Sooner than Coriolanus expected, a young assistant came to fetch him. She had glossy, black curls and a smart green Darlene dress with little pearl buttons. He knew from Tigris that those were coming into fashion this season; Dr. Gaul must pay her assistants well. That or the woman came from money. He tucked his copy of Hobbes’ Leviathian back in his book bag and followed her. He suppressed his distaste when he realized he was being led to another lab.

Oh, joy. What grotesque experiment was the doctor going to parade in front of him today?

He was relieved to see the lab was empty, apart from Dr. Gaul. He didn’t know why they couldn’t just meet in her office, though. Did she like steel tables and the lingering stench of formaldehyde that much? 

He greeted her politely, taking a seat across from her and removing his notebook. Hobbes had been an interesting read; he’d found it a little dry, but it was easy to guess what Dr. Gaul would want to hear from him on it. And that was the real point of this, after all. Most people liked nothing better than hearing their own opinions come out of someone else’s mouth. That was even more true of a mentor with her protege. 

“Before we start,” she said, “I have a new project I’m eager to share. What do you know about tracker jackers?”

Coriolanus smiled and gestured over his shoulder, toward the main hall. “I was just reading about them.” 

“Ah, then I won’t have to waste time on the basics! Excellent. Well–” she leaned forward, an excited light in her eyes. “We’ve been exploring new uses for their venom.” She seemed to be leaving an opening for him to say something brilliant here.

He didn’t want to risk taking a guess, so he just nodded. 

“You see, the hallucinations heighten a subject’s suggestibility. It’s proven to be a wonderful supplement to our interrogation and brainwashing techniques. Now I’m working on a protocol for conditioning a subject that is unique to their venom. I call it,” she made air-quotes, her red lips curling in pleasure, “‘hijacking.’”

Cute. “How’s it going?” he asked and found that he was genuinely interested. 

“Well enough so far. But we need to collect more data. I’m most interested in finding out whether the protocol breaks down under real world conditions.” She tapped the stainless steel table with her nails, kept neat and short for her work. “How would you like to make it a summer project, Mr. Snow? Take one of our subjects home and observe! All for class credit, of course.”

Coriolanus usually jumped at the chance for extra credit. But Grandma’am wouldn’t like having a lab animal in the house. He hoped it would be something small, at least. “Of course,” he said. “I’d be glad to.” 

“Very well, I’ll introduce you two at the end of our session. Now – what did you think of my good friend Thomas Hobbes?”

The next hour passed easily as Coriolanus played an able mirror to Dr. Gaul’s opinions. The food was delicious; he enjoyed an apple tart and a cup of tea as they talked. Not having mutilated Avoxes dying nearby did wonders for his appetite.

By the time their meeting ended, he’d almost forgotten about the project. But then the door opened and he saw the same pretty assistant from earlier, entering the room with someone behind her – a girl it looked like, she –

Dread seized his body. Behind her was Lucy Gray. She was in a simple blue smock dress, with her hair back in a ponytail. The air felt stuck in his lungs. It was like someone had tied a rope around his chest and was tightening it, keeping him from taking a full breath.

“Thank you, Hera,” Dr. Gaul said. The assistant left. Lucy Gray remained by the door, her expression blank.

“Is she – ” he started, without taking his eyes off her. He wanted to ask Is she real? It occurred to him that he might have lost his mind. What if he was the only one seeing this?

“Your summer project? Yes.” She waved her hand. “Come here, girl.” 

Lucy Gray walked over with none of her usual grace, her steps jerky and forced. He looked closer at her as she approached, struggling to understand. 

She looked terrible. There were dark circles under her eyes, purple as bruises, and her cheeks were hollow. Already slender, she looked half-starved now. And her eyes – there was nothing in them. It was like looking into the eyes of a dead woman. 

“She’s the great success of our hijacking program,” Dr Gaul said proudly. 

Nausea churned his stomach as a wave of hot and cold prickled over his skin. Hijacking. This is what she was working on? This is what she was so proud of? 

She had taken a silly district superstition and made it real: she had learned how to turn a person into a ghost. And now Lucy Gray’s ghost was trapped here in this lab. That meant Dr. Gaul had made hell real too. 

What else could he call this? Lucy Gray wasn’t free somewhere, far away. She wasn’t even safely dead. She was here, caged and desecrated. Unable to rest.

He remembered her up on the reaping stage, fighting back tears and winning hearts with her song. Braver than anyone he'd ever known. It was obscene to do this to anyone, let alone a girl like that. 

He looked her over more closely, trying to read the story of what had happened. There were thin white scars and fresh red abrasions on her wrists. From the fresh marks, he guessed she must still have some fight left. From the scars, he supposed she must have been here for weeks at least, if not months. He’d have been oblivious, coming and going the whole time she’d been bound here, hurting and undefended, wishing someone would help her. 

They’d taken his pretty songbird, pinned her down, and broken her wings. 

Coriolanus stood quickly, stepped to the nearest trash bin, and vomited. Hot shame burned over him. This was a test. It had to be. Did this nobody of a girl still hold him captive? 

It was a test. And he was failing. 

When he was done embarrassing himself, it took all he had to raise his head, awaiting whatever judgment Dr. Gaul saw fit to pass on him. It took all he had just to keep his chin up. There was nothing to be done now but face the consequences.

Dr. Gaul let the moment stretch, her face impassive. He’d been stupid to think he could escape her worst excesses. A quote from something they’d discussed early in the semester floated through his mind. 

The strong do what they like, and the weak suffer what they must. 

“I suppose the little tart didn’t agree with you,” she said, her tone innocent, but there was amusement in her eyes.

She was enjoying this.

He cast a glance at Lucy Gray’s ghost and remembered falling into the zoo cage beside her all those months ago. He’d been scared out of his mind. But before he could ruin things for them, she'd grabbed his arm, grounding him, and given him a sharp look. 

Own it, she’d said. 

The memory calmed him, showing him the path forward. Own it. Never let them see you hurt.

Coriolanus mastered himself, removing one of his father’s monogrammed handkerchiefs and wiping his mouth. “Seems so,” he said mildly. “What are the requirements?” he asked. He kept his tone casual, as if this was just another project and not a torture designed to drive him mad. “For class credit.” 

“Review and complete these –” Dr Gaul slid a sheaf of papers across the table. “She can follow simple instructions. It shouldn’t be too much work.”

Coriolanus tucked the papers into his book bag and nodded politely. “Thank you, doctor.” Without looking at Lucy Gray, he headed toward the door. He reached out and took her hand as he passed, with a quiet, “Come along.” 

–

Lucy Gray’s hand was small and cold in his grip. The feel of it made tenderness blossom inside him. The weakness of love was already creeping back through his system like a slow poison. He observed its effects with unease. Part of him wanted to stop and gently rub Lucy Gray’s hands to warm them. Cradle his broken little bird close and never let anyone touch her again. Another part wanted to walk back to the lab and shove one of Dr. Gaul’s scalpels into her heart. 

It would only be fair. That was, after all, what she’d just done to him.

Instead of giving in to either of these insane impulses, he kept an even pace and made for the exit. It occurred to him that he was going to have to explain this to his family when he got home. Grandma’am would curl her lip in disgust, but she’d put up with it. She’d want him to do whatever got them ahead. 

Tigris, though? She was so cold with him now. But Coriolanus knew she liked the lifestyle he could provide; she didn’t say no to any of it. And when he secured her a spot as a designer in the Games he knew she’d take that too. It hurt that he’d found the limits of her love and it was something so petty: she wanted the goodies, but she felt guilty. Blaming him made the emotional equation balance for her. 

Coriolanus headed down the front steps and toward the waiting blue sedan. The Snows had a proper car and Avox driver now. Most of the time, he still preferred to walk. But there’d been a cold drizzle this morning, which meant that at least they weren’t stuck walking home, him and the girl who had just stepped out of hell. 

When the driver opened the door, Coriolanus guided Lucy Gray in and then went to get in around the other side. He needed some time without eyes and ears, so he told the driver to take them to the nearby park. He didn’t feel safe letting himself react here. At home, he knew his study and bedroom were free of surveillance, but Gaul and Plinth's security people could probably hear everything that went on in the car. 

The thought was a reminder that none of this was truly his yet. Apart from the monthly allowance in his bank account, he owned none of it outright. He had investors in his bright future, but he had to keep them pleased. 

He had to show results. 

He glanced over at Lucy Gray and then back at the city passing outside his window. There weren’t any clean ways out of this. No matter what he did, it was going to hurt. That was the point, of course. Could he handle this like his mentor would–cold and surgical–or would he let his heart rule him? If he made the wrong choice this time, there would be no second chance at redemption.

When the car pulled up beside the long, winding stone path near the park’s south entrance, Coriolanus got out and took Lucy Gray's hand again. He led her to the bench where he’d quietly lost his mind after saving her from the snakes. It was secluded by tall shrubs and far enough away from the park’s amenities that no one had noticed him sitting there, growing hysterical with the thought that he might have just destroyed himself and his whole family for a girl he barely knew.

“Please sit down,” he said.

She sat sharply, like he’d cut her strings. He stared, appalled anew at the state of her. Face blank, hands limp at her sides, she was more like a macabre doll of Lucy Gray than the girl herself. 

The Lucy Gray he knew was all lit up inside like the hurricane lamps they’d used during the war, when the electricity went out. She spread warmth and light all around her. She was the most extraordinary person he’d ever met. Looking at her now felt like seeing double, the image of who she was awkwardly juxtaposed on the reality of what had become of her. 

Coriolanus bent down, so his face was level with hers. “Are you in there, Lucy Gray?” he asked, searching her eyes. 

No response. Just blank. Though, if she was hiding in there, who could blame her? Why should she trust him? Better to wait until she could find a sharp object and make a strong first impression stabbing him with it. He could picture the scene like a sappy teledrama: the wronged girl, standing proud with a bloody knife in her hand, and the handsome cad who’d broken her heart bent over, clutching his stomach.

Great. Now he was going to think about that every time he had to turn his back on her. 

Coriolanus noticed there were goosebumps on her arms. He frowned, confused. Then he realized: the drizzle had stopped, but it was chilly for a spring day, and her smock dress was sleeveless. That made him feel like even more of a cad.

He pulled his handsome new grey wool overcoat off and draped it over her shoulders. “There,” he said. He smoothed the material down, adjusting it. It was so large on her, dwarfing her petite frame in a way that made his heart ache. “I hope that’s better. Spring weather in the Capitol can be so–” he started and then stopped.

Idiot. Droning on about the weather. Hadn’t she been tortured enough?

He straightened abruptly and paced in front of the bench, running his hand through his hair. He could arrange for Lucy Gray to have an accident. A fall down the stairs, maybe. Dr. Gaul would suspect, of course. But she wouldn’t challenge him on it. 

She would be proud of him.

He glanced back over at Lucy Gray. It wouldn’t be right, though. Not because his body was remembering what it was like to be near her, to want nothing more than to protect her. It wasn’t that. It just wouldn’t be honorable, that’s all. Last time, it was like the Games, he’d thought they were trying to kill each other. Even if he’d felt uneasy when the doctor told him the snake she’d chosen was harmless, how could he have known? 

But now? She was helpless. He needed to try every other option first. If there really was nothing else he could do, at least he could tell himself Lucy Gray would prefer a quick death to being returned to the lab. Even so, it would feel so – he pictured how he might do it, with her in this pitiable state, and shivered, fighting the urge to gag.  

Best not to think about that.

Defeated for the moment, he walked back over and took a seat on the bench, staring out at the park. In the distance, families were picnicking on colorful blankets. A little boy was running along the grass, trying to get a red kite in the air. Coriolanus thought about the picture he and Lucy Gray made, here on the secluded bench. From far enough away, people might think they were a happy couple. 

The thought left him hollow with might-have-beens. He pictured a life where they’d won her Games and no one had noticed his cheating. He could have asked her to stay, kept her safe in the Capitol with him. He understood why she hated the place; all she’d seen here were horrors. But the city had so much more to offer an artist like her. There were concerts, museums with the rarest treasures, libraries full of books that were banned in the districts. And there were people who could appreciate her talent, real musicians and lovers of music, not those grimy, slack-jawed yokels in District 12. 

After her performance in the Games, crowds would come if she wanted to sing. She wouldn’t have had to, though. Not if she didn’t want to. He’d have wheedled his way into the Plinth Prize and been able to take care of everything. After a hard life of hunger and toil, Lucy Gray wouldn’t have had to lift a finger if she didn’t want to. When he pictured it, she was sweet about it too, not cold like Tigris. 

He could see Lucy Gray all dressed up in something bright and pretty, headlining at a proper venue. A thought occurred to him then and he turned toward her. “Did they take your voice too?” he asked, afraid of the answer. That would be like burning the last Monet. She didn’t respond. Of course not, it wasn’t a “simple instruction.” He tried again. “Sing something,” he said. 

And then everything went wrong. Terror came into her previously dead eyes. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She started to shake all over, her lips quivering, eyes wild.

Coriolanus was too shocked to speak for a moment and then rushed to say: “Stop. Stop. Please, stop – “ She froze, her mouth shutting with a click of her teeth. “It’s all right. You don’t have to.” His breath was coming sharp as he stared at her. “You don’t have to.”

She was still alive in there. The thought made his heart race. Could she get better? Could he talk to her again, make this right? Maybe they could part on better terms this time. He watched closely, trying to follow the traces of emotion as terror receded from her face. But nothing replaced it. Nothing, just empty.

His heart sank. Was there only enough left of her to hurt? That was worse than nothing at all. At least, if she there was nothing, she was beyond hurt. But like this – she could live a lifetime knowing only pain. 

“I won’t let them take you back,” he said, the words rising up from deep inside him before he could think them through. “I won’t let them hurt you again. I promise. I know I’m not your favorite person –” he winced. “But I mean it.”

He felt suddenly self-conscious. This was too much like talking to himself. But if there was even a chance Lucy Gray could hear, she deserved to know what his intentions were.

He searched her eyes, trying to see if there was some spark of her light in there, just deep and hidden. “I didn’t want this,” he told her. For all that he’d done, he’d never want a thing like this. He needed her to know that. “I didn’t even know they had you.” 

No discernible reaction. But even if she could hear, why would she believe him? He was a liar.

Him trying to comfort her at all was absurd. 

“I, um,” he stammered, feeling hemmed in. “I just need some time. I have term papers due and final exams–” he shut his mouth, repulsed by the sound of his own voice. Even if she could hear him–and it was a big if –would Lucy Gray know what those things were? And if she did, his concerns were so banal. It was insulting, given the scope of her own problems. 

But if he couldn’t keep it all together, he and his family would lose everything. If he really disappointed Dr. Gaul, she might even tip Strabo Plinth off about Sejanus. And then Plinth would make sure every living Snow wished they were dead. He was like that, ruthless and unrelenting. All the people with real power were. Coriolanus should know, he spent enough time courting their favor. 

“I didn’t want this,” he said again, as if he could convince her by sheer repetition. But in his heart, he knew the truth: it didn’t matter that he hadn’t wanted it. 

This was his fault. 

He’d lied to himself all year that she was either happily alive somewhere, singing with her birds in a rustic cabin far up north, or safely dead in the forest of District 12. But there were so many awful things in between.

He’d left a girl all alone in the world. What did he think would happen? Did he really expect that no one would hurt her? 

All people did was hurt each other. 

But, no. That wasn’t true. Lucy Gray had never really tried to hurt him. That little snake she’d left was no threat. She'd been like a cat giving him a warning scratch. She’d just been trying to scare him off. 

He should have left the gun in the cabin. They might have talked it out. He could have smoothed over his little slip-up. And surely someone who loved her Covey as much as Lucy Gray did would understand why he had to go home. He could have even invited her to come live with him. Maybe she would have said yes. 

He’d thought she was a killer because that’s what he was. But she wasn’t like that. A little scheming and manipulative, sure. But no more than anyone with a brain. Her only mistake had been believing in him. And how was she to know? He hadn’t even known he was misleading her. 

He’d really thought a boy like him could be good to a girl like her. 

It was different with Sejanus. When that got to him, now and then, he could tell himself that the boy had been a fool. He’d trusted all the wrong people, and he hadn’t cared to listen when Coriolanus had tried to explain. He’d been headed for a noose anyway, sooner or later. 

That’s what Coriolanus told himself when he couldn’t get the sound of that boy calling for his Ma out of his head. Mostly, it worked. When it didn’t, sleeping pills helped.

There was no excuse here though. He couldn’t think of a single thing Lucy Gray had done to deserve this. That made it so much worse.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not that it mattered. Why should it matter to her? “I’m sorry this happened to you, Lucy Gray.” He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. The experiment or everything from the moment she’d been reaped? 

No, not all of that. Him. He was sorry he’d happened to her.

Without him, Lucy Gray would have lost her Games within minutes, but it would have been better than this. She would have had a quick death at the end of Coral’s trident. Instead, he’d promised to protect her and then left her undefended.

He’d left her for people like Dr. Gaul to play with. 

“I have a cousin,” he said suddenly, realizing that Tigris could be a boon rather than a complication. He could trust her with Lucy Gray. She might hate him now, but she was a soft touch; she’d always been so gentle with him when he was sick as a kid. “She’s – kind.” He looked into Lucy Gray’s eyes and pretended he could see light in them. He spoke to her as he had so many times before, when he’d made all the promises he’d broken. “She’ll be kind to you. And I’ll figure this out.” He clasped her hand and stood. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll introduce you.” 

–

It was quiet when they arrived at the penthouse. He made for his study and got Lucy Gray settled there in one of the new, high-backed green leather chairs he’d been so delighted to purchase just a few months ago. It had felt like everything was finally going his way.

He checked and saw that the light was on in Tigris’ room, but then detoured to brush his teeth and tidy his hair before approaching her. With no more excuses, he still hesitated, pacing in front of her door. He caught himself running his hand through his hair nervously. That was becoming a bad habit. 

When he finally got the courage up to knock, she made him wait a long minute before poking her head out. “Yes?”

“Join me in the study?”

Tigris’ brow furrowed, but she didn’t question it. Just nodded and closed the door behind her. His cousin wasn’t a fool. She knew that was one of the safest places to talk in the house. 

Coriolanus led the way, beset by visions of Tigris accusing him when she saw the state of Lucy Gray. She’d made her opinion of him clear, hadn’t she? If he was such a villain, why not add the kidnapping and torture of innocent girls to the list? 

He was all prepared to defend himself when he closed the study door behind them.

“Lucy Gray?” Tigris asked, shock clear in her voice. “Lucy Gray?” Coriolanus could see the moment Tigris realized the full horror of the girl’s state. She literally sank to the floor under the weight of it, kneeling on the plush rug in front of the chair. “Oh, no –” She took Lucy Gray’s hand, staring at the marks on her wrist. “No,” she shook her head and turned to him. “What happened to her, Coryo?” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

She was concerned for him. The warmth of her affection stunned him for a moment. It had been so long. It was almost a year now that she’d looked at him like an invader in his own home. But right now her gaze was soft and compassionate. 

The sudden kindness made tears come to his own eyes. “They hurt her,” he said, his voice cracking. He cringed at that. He sounded like a boy again, like he used to when he’d tell cousin Tigris all about some wrong the world had done him. He blinked the tears back, embarrassed, and cleared his throat. “I need you to look after her while I figure out–”

He stopped himself before he could finish the sentence. Figure out what to do with her sounded cold, calculating, and just not very nice. 

But Tigris knew him well enough to fill in the blanks. He saw her expression shift, growing wary. She rose, bracing herself on the arm of Lucy Gray’s chair. “We’re going to help her,” she said, half-way between a question and a statement. She stepped forward, so she was between him and Lucy Gray. “Aren’t we?” she asked, her hand gripping the chair. 

He could see how hard she was struggling to be brave. 

Horror twisted in his stomach. Was she scared of him? All these months, he’d thought she was just using him as a scapegoat for her guilt over their new lifestyle. She'd made correct assumptions about the kind of behavior a penniless young man engaged in to secure it and she couldn't live with it. Not without blaming him. It had never occurred to him that she might be afraid. What did she have to fear? He was honest enough to admit that he wasn’t good to many people. But he was unfailingly good to Tigris and Grandma’am. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked. He was feeling so frayed right now that he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t know,” Tigris said, shaking her head. “But I remember what Dr. Gaul made you do,” she said, probably referring to that dead tribute from the Games. The first time he'd learned what he truly was. “And I know –” her voice caught on a sob, her arm curling against her chest protectively, “you’ve had to do so much more.” 

She didn't bring up the Plinths, but if she'd figured this much out she must have some good guesses on that too. He'd shared his true feelings on Sejanus with her in the past. It would be obvious to her that he was manipulating the boy’s grieving parents at least. She might suspect the rest too, if only vaguely.

She certainly suspected him of being more involved in Lucy Gray’s torture than he was saying. He could see it on her face, the barely contained fear. The pathetic way she–so willowy and delicate–tried to stand there like a guardian over Lucy Gray's still form. This wasn't like he'd imagined at all: Tigris wasn't coming at him with accusations, she was looking at him like her heart was breaking.

She still loved him. And he was killing that love. 

The hurt of it grew so total that he felt numb. How could she think he was capable of hurting anyone like this, let alone Lucy Gray? What had he done to deserve that? He’d killed people, sure. And he'd kill more, as needed. But he wasn’t a sadist. 

If he’d known it was happening, he would have done something. He would have tried to stop it. If there was nothing intelligent to do, he would have done something foolish. That was why it was vital that he never fall in love again. It made him stupid. 

Coriolanus looked away, at the small, square painting of daffodils on the study’s wall. The piece hadn't been expensive, but he believed it would be one day. He had a good feeling about the artist. There was something so free about the style she used, evoking the flowers with a few spare, stylized brush strokes. Grandma’am had sold all the Snow artwork long ago to keep them alive. This was the first piece of a large collection he intended to rebuild. 

But everything beautiful came at a price. 

What could he say to Tigris? Certainly not I never hurt her. He had. And he couldn’t say that he wouldn’t hurt her. That was on the bottom of the list, but it was on the list. If he didn’t do what he was told, none of them were getting out of this alive.

Instead of defending himself, Coriolanus just met her eyes. “It could be you next,” he said. It was the plain truth. He needed her to understand the cost of helping Lucy Gray. “It could be me.”

He’d underestimated Gaul. This incident showed that. Everyone knew Lucy Gray was his girl, but especially Dr. Gaul. She knew every stupid mistake he’d made for love. If the doctor had no problem hurting her, then none of them were safe. 

Tigris shook her head, tears sliding down her face. “I thought you loved her.” 

“I do,” he said. He might be able to avoid a repeat in the future–if he survived this–but this time love had gotten him before he’d known to be wary. Whether he liked it or not, Lucy Gray would always be special to him. Loving her was part of him now, right down to his bones. “But I might have to choose.”

Was she going to condemn him for not wanting to see her hurt? 

Tigris gestured at the study’s fine furnishings. “We didn’t need all of this, Coryo,” she said, her lips pinched with sorrow. “We were getting by.”

That might be true of the luxuries. But he’d seen Tigris’ face the first time she had a full meal in front of her. It had been heartbreaking. 

Once he’d gotten into the Academy, at least he had gotten to enjoy proper meals at breakfast and lunch. Tigris hadn’t. Her simple pleasure in finally having enough to eat was worth any price. And he knew she’d quit working for Fabricia too. That disgusting woman wouldn’t run Tigris ragged for a pittance anymore, demanding everything from late night babysitting to foot rubs.

Tigris had the space to build her design portfolio and find better employment. She had time to enjoy her life. The things he’d done had lifted real burdens off her narrow shoulders. And she was glad to have them gone. He knew that too. But he wasn’t cruel enough to say any of that. It had been his decision and he would own it.

“It’s too late now,” was all he said. 

Tigris thought that over for a long moment. “How do we help her?” she asked, meeting his gaze evenly. She meant it. He'd explained the stakes and she’d understood. But she still wanted to help Lucy Gray. 

She was giving him permission to risk her life.

It was then that Coriolanus realized how neatly he’d cornered himself. By bringing Tigris into it, he’d taken away his own choice. He had to try everything to help Lucy Gray now. Even if he got up the nerve to follow the most efficient route, he couldn’t. He’d lose Tigris and Lucy Gray both and that was too much at once.

He groped for a half-formed plan. “If Pluribus knows someone who can smuggle her out of the city –” he offered, spreading his hands. 

Maybe they could pass it off as if Lucy Gray had run away on her own. Dr. Gaul would suspect, he was sure of that. But if he could maintain plausible deniability–and play her and Plinth off each other carefully enough–they might get out of this with their lives. 

Tigris’ face lit up. He saw it and felt his own heart lift in response. Maybe they could get away with cheating just this once. 

“That's brilliant!” she enthused. “I’ll drop by tomorrow. I can say I'm interested in buying some of his old costumes.” Before he could raise any objections she said: “I’ll be careful, I promise.” She approached him then, smiling warmly, and took his hand. “We can do this, Coryo,” she said, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “I know we can.” 

Her fear of him was gone as if it had never been there. He didn’t want it to come back. Maybe his stupid, desperate plan could work. He wanted to do the right thing, for once, if only so she’d keep looking at him like this. 

He was tired of winning everything else while losing her. 

Coriolanus wished that she could be more like him or that he could be more like her. One or the other. If Tigris were more like him, she’d understand the things he had to do. If he were more like her – they’d be living some poor, miserable existence, but they’d love each other. There’d be no question about it, none of the doubt and pain his successes had brought. 

If he were more like Tigris, he might have stayed in District 12 when Lucy Gray asked. He pictured a ceremony out in the sunny meadow, with the bride dressed in one of her pretty embroidered frocks, a bouquet of wildflowers in her hand. 

It couldn’t have been legal, of course, since Peacekeepers weren’t allowed to marry. But they could have exchanged promises before everyone who mattered and then gone swimming up at the lake with her family. In the precious thirty minutes he’d been allowed to call home every week, he could have told Tigris all about it. That is, if she could hear him over the bursts of static from the creaky old videophone system.  

He gripped Tigris’ hand back, freed by the inevitability of the trap he’d rigged for himself. Freed by her permission to be foolish just one more time for Lucy Gray. “There’s a lake in District 12,” he said, not sure he was even making sense. But he needed to tell her. “Lucy Gray took me there. I wish you could see it.” 

Tigris tilted her head and gave him a long, searching look. Then she pulled him into a tight hug. Coriolanus hugged her back, resting his head on her shoulder. He breathed in the smell of her new perfume. It was delicate, floral with notes of bergamot. He closed his eyes and felt the determination to somehow make this work burn in his chest.

–

Tigris had to visit several times, making up new excuses each time, before Pluribus finally confessed. He did, in fact, know someone who could get a person out of the city. The price tag was high, though. 

People were supposed to stay where the Capitol authorities put them. That was an essential part of the post-war order, which meant getting Lucy Gray out of the city was nothing less than treason. This wasn’t low level smuggling. This was the kind of crime that got your tongue ripped out.

Tigris came into his study and told him all about her adventures with breathless excitement, as if it was a thrilling teledrama. She wasn’t a fool though; there was a jitteriness to her that he shared. They'd already committed several crimes today, just by discussing it. And they were going to commit a lot more. She was just putting up a cheerful front to comfort him. 

It wasn’t comforting, though. He was putting her and Grandma’am–and the Snow name–at risk. And he was doing it all for the same girl he’d nearly destroyed them over once before. 

He really must avoid falling in love again. It was dangerous and incredibly inconvenient. Not to mention expensive. 

Coriolanus’ expression must have shown his discomfort, because Tigris offered up her own small savings for the cause. She’d worked for Fabricia for months after Coriolanus had come home able to take care of her and Grandma’am, saving up everything she made. He felt his face heat with shame at the offer. He hadn’t even managed to go a full year without needing to sponge off his cousin’s meager earnings. 

“I’ll see what I can do first,” he said. He wanted to politely reject her money, but he couldn’t. He might need the help. He’d see what he could manage on his own first, though. It was a good thing this “class project” was meant to last all summer. Coriolanus would have to save up his allowance for months, make up a good story to get more out of Strabo Plinth, and sell some things besides to afford Lucy Gray’s escape. 

“I told him to plan for August, if that’s all right?” she asked, looking concerned. He was thankful that she’d already anticipated that he’d need time to gather the money. 

Coriolanus noticed that he was, once again, running a nervous hand through his hair. He stopped as soon as he realized, folding his hands in his lap. “It's fine,” he said. He met her eyes and tried to put everything he didn’t know how to say into a very sincere “Thank you, Tigris.” 

The situation was dire, but it could be worse. If this plan had fallen through. If she hadn’t managed Pluribus well enough. If there was no real way to help Lucy Gray… Coriolanus gripped his hands tightly and pushed the thought aside. That hadn’t happened. He had enough problems without tormenting himself with that.

“You know,” Tigris said, “I think it looks better like that.”

Coriolanus frowned at her. “It–?”

“Your hair,” she said, still in a tone of forced cheerfulness, “it looks better when it’s,” she gestured at her own head, “not so stiff. You look less like–” she started and then stopped. “It’s less formal,” she said, correcting herself. 

There was a shadow in her expression, just behind the warmth. It reminded him of the way she’d looked over the past year whenever she mentioned how much he looked like his father now. 

He blinked at her, startled. Several pieces of the puzzle came together in his mind. Had looking like his father helped drive her discomfort with him? Her fear? She wasn’t one to hold a grudge like that for no reason. What could Crassus Snow have done to his niece to merit that?

Coriolanus’ own memories of the man were vague. A strong arm around his shoulders, the rumble of a deep voice, the dashing look of his father in dress uniform. He knew that his father had done some unsavory things, but he’d assumed that he was good to his family. That was the way a man should be. Coriolanus had thought of his father as a template to measure his own success against.

Perhaps he was aiming low.

He tried to imagine what his father might have done to leave such a negative impression on Tigris, but his mind edged away from the thought. Maybe that was better left in the past. He couldn’t even raise the topic without the risk of hurting her. But he could do something about it. 

“I’ll tell the barber,” he said, and he meant it. If seeing him like that upset her, he’d change it.

“You don’t have to,” she said, but her bright, phony smile had softened, growing sincere and vulnerable. “It was just a thought.” 

Her reaction would have convinced him, if he hadn’t already been determined to do something about this. It was a simple enough thing to change, after all.

“What do you say, should I go for–” Coriolanus raised his hand and ruffled his hair into disarray, “something like this?” He was willing to sacrifice a little dignity to make her feel better.

Tigris laughed, her eyes crinkling with real joy. 

With the image of his father firmly evicted from the room, Coriolanus came around the desk and gave his cousin a hug. He hugged her and thought about how grateful he was to have her as family. She was bright and kind and she loved him. She understood why he had to help Lucy Gray. She was good enough that she’d want to help even if he didn’t. 

He felt so terribly selfish, but she’d never think of it like that. 

If they were caught and made Avoxes for treason, maybe they could spend their lives in misery toiling side-by-side in the bowels of the city. But, no. The reality would be so much worse than that, wouldn’t it? There were a lot of buyers who would enjoy playing with helpless, attractive young people who could never speak a word of it.

Dr. Gaul wasn’t the worst kind of sadist in the Capitol.

Coriolanus shuddered at the thought and tightened his hug, trying not to think of all the holes in their plan, each one potentially leading to disaster. It would take some rare luck for all of them to get out of this alive and well. He was almost grateful for the looming prospect of term papers and the exams he had to finish over the next few weeks. It gave him an excuse not to think too hard.

–

The weather was sunny and warm for finals week. Coriolanus walked to his exams, using the exercise to clear his head. He enjoyed seeing familiar shops along the way too. Weeks after he’d gotten back from District 12, his stomach had rumbled as he was passing the neighborhood patisserie, La Parisienne. It had opened a few years back, catering to costumers flush with the post-war pleasure of indulgence. 

The front window held displays of the most beautiful desserts, covered in luxuries like fresh fruit and dark chocolate with delicate flakes of gold leaf. He’d passed it so many times before, the smell of fresh baked bread on the air making his mouth water as he kept his eyes fixed ahead of him. It wouldn't do to gawp at the display like a rube. His Academy classmates could afford a visit, but to him it had been a reminder of everything beyond his touch. 

That time, though, when his stomach had rumbled, he'd realized he could just walk in and order something. His feet had taken him inside before he could question it. The simple cup of coffee and flaky chocolate croissant he ordered had tasted better than anything he’d ever eaten. He’d sat there like he belonged, taking a table near the window where he could finally look out rather than in. 

He didn’t make a habit of indulging often, but it felt good to walk past by choice rather than in desperation. 

Tonight, after his last exam of the semester, he walked home briskly. His nerves were taut and his eyes weary from long nights studying. He didn’t want to dally. His Chem exam had started late, so he walked home by the light of city streetlamps. When he got back to their building, he took the elevator up to the penthouse and was all ready to head to his room and collapse into bed. On the way past Tigris’ room, though, he heard it.

Lucy Gray was singing. 

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,
Lavender's green
When you are king, dilly dilly,
I shall be queen

Coriolanus stopped and stared at the door. A tremor passed through his limbs. He felt as if Lucy Gray had reached out, pried his chest apart and put her small hands inside, tight around his heart.

Who told you so, dilly dilly,
Who told you so?
'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,
That told me so

Coriolanus approached the door slowly. The cadence was sing-song, like a nursery rhyme, though he didn’t recognize it. Maybe it was something from the districts or unique to her Covey. As he listened, he noticed that Lucy Gray’s voice was different. Softer and a little rough. Was it from disuse or the torture she’d been put through? The mental image of her screaming her throat raw over and over in some cold, sterile room burned through him and he shuddered.

Call up your men, dilly dilly,
Set them to work,
Some to the plow, dilly dilly,
Some to the cart

Yes, there was a heartbreaking quaver on the highest notes now. Before her voice had been as clear on the high as it was rich on the low. He raised his hand, pressing his palm to the door. 

Some to the hay, dilly dilly,
Some to thresh corn
Whilst you and I, dilly dilly,
Keep ourselves warm

Would this heal or had they left her damaged forever? His attention splintered into sharp, vicious pieces at the thought, each tracking down a path to the same goal. If he survived the summer, he was going to kill Dr. Gaul for this one day. It would take time, but he could be patient. 

Lavender's green, dilly dilly, 
Lavender's blue
You must love me, dilly dilly, 
Because I love you

Lucy Gray started again from the beginning and Tigris’ soft soprano joined in this time. As they sang, Tigris fudged a word here and there and they laughed together. They sounded like friends. 

Coriolanus pressed his forehead to the door and closed his eyes. He knew they’d like each other. How could they not? They had the same rare quality about them. Something warm and bright. 

He listened to their impromptu duet as they worked through the song for a second time together. He wished the moment could go on forever. It was as if, behind the door, there was another world where things had gone his way. This was what he’d wanted when he asked Lucy Gray to come live with him in the Capitol. 

As he listened to them, Coriolanus embellished his fantasy of the life they might have had. If she’d wanted, she might have studied at the Conservatory. He could have pulled strings and gotten her a spot despite her lack of Capitol pedigree. 

Wouldn’t she enjoy learning with people who could understand and nurture her talent? She could make friends with the musicians and bohemian types around campus. They would be charmed by her and he thought she might feel at home with people like that. Sure, they were Capitol, but they were artists like her.

The two of them could have been happy. He truly believed it. But she hadn’t wanted that, and here they were. 

Lucy Gray must be getting better, if she could sing. Did she remember what had passed between them? If she did, she hadn’t told Tigris yet. They’d hardly want to have a happy sing-a-long after discussing that. 

But she might tell. He was realizing too late that he hadn’t just entrusted her care to Tigris, he’d entrusted Tigris to her, someone who had every reason to hate him. She could ruin things for him. She could tell Tigris all about him and then that fear would come back into her eyes. 

Maybe it would never leave. 

His heart sped up at the thought. His mind filled with the raucous sound of those vicious birds and the memory of being more lost and alone than he’d ever felt in a forest that smelled of rain. His pleasure in the song dimmed. 

He wanted to rush in there and fix things. But he could wait. He could. Lucy Gray was a smart girl. She wouldn’t drop a bombshell like that without being sure of herself. She’d want to scope out the situation first. 

Besides, she deserved this small shred of peace, after everything. She deserved this much from him, at least.

Inside Tigris’ room, the girls started the song again from the top. This time, their duet came together beautifully. He was drawn back into the pleasure of it, soaking in the sound of them for a long moment, eyes closed, his forehead pressed against the door. After a while, he dropped his hand and stepped back.

Coriolanus wanted to stay. He wanted to keep pretending that there was another world on the other side of the door. He wanted to listen to music from a better life. But if he stayed, he'd ruin it. 

He turned and made himself walk away, down the hall to his own room. By way of cheering himself up, he didn't just drop into bed. He changed into the black silk pajamas he’d bought with his first allowance payment, relaxing into the comfort of them. He took a sleeping pill too, just to be sure he could blank out for a few hours, swallowing it with a mouthful of water from the en suite bathroom's sink. 

Coriolanus remembered worrying about Lucy Gray taking her vengeance on him with a sharp object. If she could sing again, what else could she do? Before climbing into bed, he locked his bedroom door. Just in case. 

–

Chapter Text

"For whatever reason, Snow has a very controlling personality. Then he experiences one of the most out-of-control emotions, falling in love."
-Suzanne Collins, interview with David Levithan, May 19, 2020

–

Coriolanus woke the next morning with a sore jaw from grinding his teeth. The pills did a beautiful job helping him sleep through nightmares, and forget the details, but they still left their mark. He rubbed at his jaw and stared up at the ceiling.

With the benefit of sleep, he could see that the smart move was to play along. While she felt safe and in control, Lucy Gray would bide her time. She would focus on charming Tigris and keeping him in the dark. She had no reason to hurt him right now. If he raised the topic too soon, it would just make things dangerous before they needed to be.

At least Lucy Gray’s recovery was good news for their plan. She could aid in her own escape now. And she could take care of herself after too, hiding from the authorities. This was the first time since this whole thing started that Coriolanus could look at the situation and say they had a real chance. 

He wondered what narrative Lucy Gray was feeding Tigris. What buttons she was pushing, for she certainly must be. That was her best play: cultivate the loyalty of the nearest sympathetic person. That was what she’d done with him, after all. And she was very good at it.

But there was nothing to be done for the moment. Besides, he had other things to worry about. There was an event tonight, at the Dean’s house. Coriolanus had befriended his son, Aurelius–a sheltered, bookish boy with a head for economics and little ambition. He might make an excellent Minister of Finance one day. By the time Coriolanus made his play for the presidency, he planned to have a whole cabinet ready, full of people who liked him, were very good at their jobs, and had no interest in ousting him.

Strabo Plinth had arranged a summer internship for him at the Ministry of Justice as well. Coriolanus hoped to scope out likely allies there. He had prep work to do on that front and a dinner with Plinth, Claudius Kerr–the cabinet official he’d be working for–and Kerr’s wife Helena next week. 

Why be in a rush? Let the girls have their secrets. Lucy Gray wasn't the only one who knew how to bide her time. 

–

The Dean’s house was located on campus, nestled in a crop of mature spruce and dogwood trees. Coriolanus followed the familiar, curving path behind the Engineering Department. He’d had lunch there several times since befriending Aurelius. 

At the party, Coriolanus had to spend more time than he liked slipping his way out of summer plans with friends. All of it simply cost too much. It wasn’t that different than his days at the Academy, really. Abject poverty wasn’t his problem this time, though. This time it was because his true plans for the summer involved committing a little treason.

The same old excuses worked, though. 

As he was exchanging pleasantries with Juno Phipps, someone brought up the recent disturbances in District 11. The same sort of rabble Sejanus had aligned himself with were causing trouble there, using explosives improvised from fertilizer to disrupt supply lines to the Capitol. As far as he knew, they were disorganized and not much of a threat. But Capitol citizens were still touchy about anything that threatened their food supply. 

“They’ll bring back rationing soon!” a girl exclaimed in a high, reedy voice across the room.

Coriolanus fought the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, what did it say about humanity that these were the cream of the crop? Nothing good.

Juno looked worried. “That can’t be true, can it?” she asked, sotto voce. 

She was using discretion, at least. And seeking info from a reliable source. She always used to be so smug about the Phipps name, as if his family wasn’t just as old and venerable. But now everyone knew he was the Plinth heir and Strabo Plinth was tied in with the Capitol's security apparatus. Coriolanus could be expected to have real insider knowledge.

He didn’t want to bring attention to himself before he worked out the origin of this nonsense–it wouldn’t do to offend someone powerful by loudly contradicting them in public–but he wanted to reassure her. He touched her arm lightly and shook his head in a firm “no” to the awful specter of rationing.

Juno looked relieved, reaching up to touch his hand before he withdrew it. Coriolanus gave her a nod in return and drifted off, deeper into the room, trying to find the source of this conversation. The rule against discussing such things in polite company ought to go double for imbeciles.

Soon enough, he found the epicenter: a group surrounding Horatio Ravinstill, poor Felix’s brother. A boy standing to Horatio's left, one of the few people here Coriolanus didn’t recognize, said: “We should bomb the whole place!” His voice was ugly and loud. “Turn it to glass!” There was a half-empty cup of something doubtlessly alcoholic sloshing in his hand. It clearly wasn’t his first of the night.

There was a pause, as people tried to figure out how to respond. Then Horatio laughed and everyone followed along, laughing too. It was pathetic, reminiscent of their primate ancestors. Monkey see, monkey do. 

Why was Horatio aligning himself with this fool? He was heir apparent to the presidency and Coriolanus’ major rival, though the boy didn’t know that yet. Coriolanus needed time to build up to open conflict. The Ravinstill heir would inherit his father’s well established network of connections. Coriolanus couldn’t stand up to that. Not yet. 

He looked away, swallowing his annoyance. Let the heir apparent befriend morons and spoil everyone’s evening with nonsense. Every mistake on his part was an advantage for Coriolanus. 

What a detestable lack of wisdom, though. Horatio should have known better. He should have used his clout to nip the conversation in the bud. Instead he was laughing along with someone suggesting that they do the rebels’ work for them and destroy their own agricultural base.

Coriolanus did feel for Horatio on the loss of his brother to rebels. That must play into this misbehavior. But there was no room for mistakes if he wanted to earn his inheritance. He must be too soft to see that. And why wouldn't he be?

He’d never gone hungry during the war, not as the president’s son. He’d never been in the military either. Never looked down the barrel of a gun at someone. He’d never paid the price to maintain order. 

Horatio Ravinstill wouldn’t survive a minute in the Hunger Games or the Peacekeepers. He wouldn’t survive weeks in Dr. Gaul’s lab either. There were plenty of district folk who were smarter and tougher than him. How was he going to control them?

It was practically an ethical imperative that Coriolanus take power from him.

The laughter died down, but the conversation continued. Other boys weighed in with their own boneheaded ideas. Sick of listening to it, Coriolanus headed out to the balcony.

He found Livia Cardew there, leaning against the stone railing and smoking. She was wearing an ivory cape sleeve dress that made her look impeccably elegant. He paused, torn. Their few weeks of dating had ended amicably enough, thankfully. But he’d learned that his plan to court someone he hated had significant flaws. 

Namely, he’d met Livia’s family. Half an hour into dinner, he'd understood the origins of her cruel streak. That was how the Cardews were to each other too. In their own home! Constantly finding fault, taunting and needling at each other. Hateful people with a cigarette or a drink–or both–in hand at all times. 

Coriolanus had been appalled. 

What was the point of any of it if you weren’t even good to your own family? If home was just another Arena where you had to fight to survive? Livia had taunted him for being an orphan when he was small, but her family–even with two living parents and an elder sister–was a wasteland compared to the love he’d known growing up. 

Coriolanus wouldn’t allow any children of his to be raised like that. Influenced by a mother who’d been so starved of love, spending time with such hateful grandparents. He’d rather a pack of wolves raise them. At least wolves knew how to be good to their own.

Still, Livia was better company than the idiots who were dominating the conversation inside. He stepped out on to the balcony. 

“Nasty habit,” he observed in the cold, superior tone she liked. 

She enjoyed having a powerful ally to feel cynical and sophisticated with. Since he’d risen in the world, he fit the bill nicely. She could tell that he was a cut above the yapping puppies like Ravinstill and she liked it. It was an easy enough game to play. He wanted to maintain the connection, now that he understood what buttons to push. 

Her horrible mother did run the largest bank in the Capitol, after all. 

“You love it,” Livia said, giving him a knowing smirk. She extended her hand, offering the cigarette. Its end bore the pink mark of her lipstick. 

Coriolanus took it, pressing his lips to the waxy aftertaste of her lipstick and sucking the disgusting smoke deep. It stung his nose and mouth, but then came the calm, relaxed feeling the nicotine brought, soothing his frayed nerves. It was a welcome relief from the stress he’d been under. He would never allow himself to become addicted like Livia was, but she was right. He did love one now and then. 

He looked out over the property, able to enjoy its beauty now. The Dean’s residence was prime real-estate. It was rare for even the richest Capitol families to have much land, but this house enjoyed a full garden, with a koi pond and perfectly manicured topiary. Spring blossoms neatly lined the stone pathways. The whole delightful prospect was lit up tonight by paper lanterns suspended overhead. They glowed like moons, gently bobbing in the evening breeze. 

“Have I missed anything good?” Livia asked, tilting her head toward the guests indoors.

“Not much,” he said. “The future leaders of Panem are drawing up plans to nuke our bread basket.” His tone was drier than the deserts of the southwest.

“Oh,” she said, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “With the nukes we don’t have anymore?”

She wasn’t connected enough to know that the Capitol had retained a few nuclear weapons after the loss of District 13. Coriolanus only knew because Plinth had read him in on that. A reckless or insane President could indeed turn a rebel district to nuclear glass. And quite possibly wipe out all that remained of human civilization in the process. 

He wasn’t going to trust Livia with that information, though. 

“The very same,” he said, and took another deep lungful of nicotine, exhaling smoke into the cool night air. It was fascinating how soothing self-destruction could be. In small doses. 

Livia laughed. “That would be a neat trick,” she said.

Leaning into his personal space, she reached up to pluck the cigarette from his lips. She took a drag on it, meeting his eyes the whole time. Then she pursed her pink lips and blew the smoke out, slow and deliberate, into his face.

He took a pointed step away, crossing his arms. “You know how I feel about that,” he said. They weren’t dating anymore. They were friends. But even when they had been dating, he’d made it clear that he didn’t like that kind of flirting.

Livia shrugged. “Had to try,” she said. A charming, remorseless little smile kissed her lips.

Coriolanus snorted, rolling his eyes. Her very ineptitude at seduction made him forgive her, though. Even though he had no interest anymore, he did enjoy the effect he could have on her. He enjoyed the way she treated him like he was powerful and desirable. She pushed so hard, not from a lack of regard, but in the hopes that he’d push back. It was proof of how far he’d come. He wasn’t the penniless boy she’d taunted for being an orphan anymore. He would never be that weak again. 

–

Lucy Gray herself upset their equilibrium. Coriolanus woke to her screams a few nights later. They were wretched sounds, piercing and hopeless. He’d bolted out of bed, still half asleep and thinking someone had got into the house. He’d rushed out into the hall, only to have Tigris wave him away as she headed into Lucy Gray’s room. Far at the other end of the hall, Grandma’am had poked her head out with a worried expression. He’d given her a tight smile and told her everything was fine. 

The next day at breakfast, Grandma’am was still unsettled. “I don’t believe that class project of yours is quite well, Coriolanus,” she said, taking a delicate sip of her coffee. “Do you suppose she might be dangerous? Perhaps you should keep her secured in her room.” 

Coriolanus froze, feeling vaguely concussed. He couldn't possibly do that. Lucy Gray had been put through enough; she shouldn't have to feel like a prisoner here. But he was supposed to look after Grandma'am too. She should feel safe in her own home. And he couldn't say anything in the dining room he wouldn't want overheard. 

Would it be wise to take her aside and explain? No. Unlike Tigris, Grandma’am would see right through him. She'd see how selfish he was being, putting his feelings for one girl above the family’s survival. 

When he'd told Tigris, she'd given him permission to risk her life. She’d made it so much easier to do what he wanted. Grandma’am would not provide salve to his conscience like that. 

She'd despise him for this. 

Worse than that, she'd try to make him give Lucy Gray back. The conditioning had broken. Dr. Gaul’s paperwork was clear. If that happened, he was supposed to document it and return her. So the doctor could pin her down and rip apart what was left of her. And then Lucy Gray would be truly gone, drowned in her own mind like those pitiful Avoxes in the tank. 

What was he supposed to do if Grandma’am tried to make him return Lucy Gray? Or if she tried to do it herself?

Coriolanus noticed Tigris giving him a worried look. Following her gaze, he found that he was gripping his fork so tightly the sterling silver was starting to bend. Carefully, deliberately, he loosened his fingers and set it down. 

“She’s no danger to us, Grandma’am,” he said, keeping his voice even. “And she’s not just a class project. She’s our victor.” He hoped that would have some cachet with her. “And our guest.” 

“She saved Coryo's life in the explosion,” Tigris reminded Grandma’am helpfully. 

Grandma’am glanced between them, but the weight of her gaze settled on Coriolanus. “Well, if you say so, dear,” she said, surprising him with how easily she agreed. 

He wasn’t quite used to the new order of things. Since he’d improved their circumstances–and started looking more like his father–she seemed to consider him the head of the family, which meant she deferred to him now. It was strange, even though he’d worked so hard to step into that role. And it made him feel even guiltier. She trusted him to take care of her. She could be difficult and obtuse, but she was his Grandma’am. She deserved to have peace and comfort in her old age. And he was putting her at risk. 

He really was the worst sort of grandson. Feckless, irresponsible, selfish. Led around by his heart. Before the summer was over, Tigris and Grandma’am may very well pay for his crimes. If the great, old house of Snow fell, he’d have no one to blame but himself. 

He looked over at Tigris, feeling lost. She gave him an encouraging smile. It helped, but not enough. She thought that they were doing the right thing so everything would work out. She truly believed that. But Coriolanus was too practical to share her optimism. Their odds were better, but they still weren’t good. 

He couldn’t afford to indulge the girls’ ruse any longer. He needed the full details on Lucy Gray’s condition. If necessary, he needed to get her access to the on-call psychiatrist the Plinths retained. Coriolanus had spoken to the man once himself, to get the prescription for sleeping pills he’d found so useful. The Plinths moving in downstairs could be suffocating at times, but it wasn’t without its upside. 

When Tigris got up from breakfast, he followed her into the hall, stepping in front of her as she headed for her room. “The three of us,” he said, tilting his head toward the guest room where Lucy Gray slept, “need to talk.” 

Tigris’ eyes widened and she nodded.

–

Coriolanus drank in the sight of Lucy Gray. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her since her condition had improved. The shadows under her eyes were still dark, he was sorry to see, but it looked like she’d been eating at least. 

Tigris had altered one of her tea dresses to fit the other girl’s petite frame. It wasn’t Lucy Gray’s style, but it had a nice floral pattern in pink and white that brought color to her still too thin cheeks. He remembered how much comfort her mother’s dress had given her during the Games, and hoped that this heartfelt gift from Tigris had made her feel more safe here.

She was wearing her hair down the way she liked it, loose curls with just the sides pinned up. He indulged in a fond memory of how silky it had felt against his cheek when they’d cuddled together. There was a hunger in his chest, an emptiness, that only holding Lucy Gray satisfied. That empty place had felt so warm and full with her curled trustingly in his embrace. 

He wondered if he’d ever feel that again. Was it possible without being in love? Holding Livia Cardew had been like trying to satisfy hunger pangs with a jar of paste. And the kisses – ugh. Instead of the slow unfurling of wonder and longing he’d felt with Lucy Gray, he’d been distracted by the thoughts of how slippery and unhygienic the human mouth was. 

“Tigris, honey, can you give us a minute?” Lucy Gray asked, so sweet and polite you’d think they were all just socializing here. The gracious young Miss Baird paying a friendly visit to the Snows.

It was so good to see her alive and well and charming people, same as always. Though he was a little annoyed by “honey” – did that rate higher or lower than the rare “sweetheart” he’d earned from her?

“Of course,” Tigris said, standing. She looked between them, meeting their eyes in turn, like a mother reminding the children to play nice.

The moment Tigris closed the door, Lucy Gray turned her focus on him. Her expression hardened. He kept quiet, not wanting to be the first to speak. For her part, she seemed determined to let the silence drag out. As he sat there, trying not to fidget, it occurred to him that Lucy Gray was the one person in the whole world who truly knew him. 

All of him, from the best to the very worst. 

It was awful. It made him feel like a millipede pinned under a microscope, its multitude of twitchy little legs flailing helplessly. He wanted to skitter away and hide. But it was wonderful too. He wanted to open his mouth and tell Lucy Gray everything, just everything. He hadn’t been able to talk honestly with anyone since he’d come home last year. He used to share everything with Tigris but, even now that they were reconciled, there were things he could never tell her.

Tigris was a gentle soul. She’d never understand. But Lucy Gray – she was a good person, but she was a victor too. She was a survivor. If anyone could understand, it would be her. But he’d ruined that. He’d made the one person who might understand hate him. 

“What’s your game, Coriolanus?” Lucy Gray finally asked, breaking the silence. “The truth,” she said, “not the lies you tell that sweet girl.” She seemed offended on Tigris’ behalf that he was her family. 

Her hands were gripping the arms of her chair and she had her chin raised, like a brave heroine facing down the dastardly villain. She was all courage and pluck, his girl. And she really was back, not just a pale shade of the girl he’d known. He’d feared he’d never see her whole again. He feared he’d never see light in her eyes again. But there it was, blazing inside her. Even if it was blazing with hatred, he didn’t care. He just wanted to forget how empty and wrong she’d looked only a few weeks ago. 

But how was he going to convince her of his good intentions? 

“No game,” he said. “We’re trying to help you.” He was glad he didn’t have to waste energy lying. Just this once, he was innocent of all charges. 

“I don’t believe you,” Lucy Gray said, and he was reassured by that. If she wasn’t willing to give him a chance to prove himself, she would never be that honest. She’d tell him whatever she thought he wanted to hear. 

“Fair enough,” he said. He folded his hands on the desk, considering his options. “What if we agreed not to lie to each other?” he suggested. “That would make this whole situation a lot simpler, wouldn’t it?”

“I never lied to you,” she said, with special, accusatory emphasis on the innocent I and the oh-so-guilty you.

“All right,” he said, granting her the point. “Then I swear not to tell you any more lies. How’s that?”

“Got your word on that, do I?” she asked sweetly, giving him a bright, fake smile that told him exactly what she thought of that. 

His heart warmed, despite the threat she posed. There was a real chance here. She wouldn’t be talking like this, giving her true feelings away so easily, if she wasn’t willing to be persuaded.

“I wouldn’t have brought you to my family,” he said, emphasizing the word, “if I’d wanted to hurt you, Lucy Gray.” He had done something incredibly stupid for her. He just needed her to be able to see that. Then they could start building the trust they needed to survive this. “I wouldn’t have let you anywhere near that,” he gestured toward the hall where Tigris was doubtlessly hovering, “sweet girl.” 

Her expression shifted from defiance to worry. “They’re in danger?”

“We all are,” he said. 

Her strong front faltered, and he thought he’d got her. But then fire came back into her eyes. “What would you have done?” she demanded. “If you hadn’t brought me to your family.”

Why was she even asking? She’d learned what he was capable of in the forest. Was she trying to punish him by making him spell it out for her? Or testing his promise not to lie?

Coriolanus looked down at his hands. “That should be obvious,” he said, glancing back up at her. He hoped that admission would be enough.

What was the point of pillorying him for it? She was a victor. She could see the shortest distance between two points as easily as he could. It was only that he took that path more often than she did. 

She nodded slowly and there was such a sadness to her. He got the strangest feeling that she was disappointed in him. But he couldn’t understand that. She knew too much to be disappointed, didn't she? 

“But I didn’t want to,” he added, because that was just as true.

He’d known what the smart move was, but he hadn’t wanted to make it. He couldn’t. He already knew what it was like to live with killing her. He’d spent a year hearing those vicious birds in his dreams as he ran through a forest that never ended. 

It had been bad enough when he could tell himself it was self defense. It had been bad enough when he could make himself believe that she’d gotten away. Taken the supplies he’d left for her in the cabin and made a cozy life for herself up north. But to do it for certain? When she couldn’t even fight back? 

He might as well grab a kitchen knife and carve his own heart out. It would hurt less.

“But how would destroying her –” Lucy Gray’s expression darkened, “experiment help you?”

“You’re not the one being tested here,” he said. “I am.”

“Why?”

“She’s my mentor,” he said. “And you’re a weakness. She’s trying to make me strong.” 

Well, the goal was a little more complicated than that. It was to either force him to be strong or break him. If he broke, Dr. Gaul could find a better protege before she’d wasted too much of her time and resources on him.

Lucy Gray drew back in her chair, as if she wanted to get away from what he was saying. “How do people like your cousin survive this place?” she wondered, glancing around the well appointed room as if she could find the answer to her question in his handsome new oak desk or the matching bookshelves he was slowly filling with new volumes. 

Like their art collection, the Snow library had all been sold or burned for heat during the war. He could still remember huddling over the flames as a child, trying not to cry as his beloved picture-books had turned to ash. No child of his would ever feel like that.

“They survive by having people like me,” he said. 

This city had been in the process of eating Tigris alive before he’d figured out how to take care of the family. Fabricia never would have let her rise, never would have helped her make connections. She was a user, through and through, and she had meant to use Tigris up. She’d figured out that the Snows were penniless and she knew you could do whatever you liked with people like that. 

Dr. Gaul’s mentorship might be harsh, but Coriolanus had endured it because she was actually interested in preparing him for power. She wanted to teach him how to win and then help him do it, not use him up. It was simply her bad luck that she didn’t understand love. She didn't understand that it could make him weak, yes, but it could make him strong too. Dr. Gaul hadn't anticipated that if she hurt Lucy Gray her compliant little protege would have the grit to turn on her.

Oops. 

He wondered if they’d ask him to sing at her funeral.

“She should have known you were off limits,” he told Lucy Gray. It came out angrier than he’d intended. 

“Off limits,” Lucy Gray repeated slowly, a furrow of confusion between her brows.

“You are,” he said. “I’m going to kill her for this,” he added, as proof of his good will. Dr. Gaul was his mentor–one of the twin pillars of his rise to power, along with Plinth–but she'd broken his loyalty with this stunt. She could have had everything she wanted, if she’d just left his girl alone.

Lucy Gray wasn’t impressed. She seemed confused, actually. He should probably slow down on the homicidal confessions. But she’d demanded the first confession from him. She’d opened that door. Was it his fault that he wanted to walk through it?

She looked at him like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “Do you like it?” she asked quietly. Her gaze on him was so intent it felt like a touch. “Killing people?”

“That’s rather personal,” he hedged, suddenly uncomfortable. Would a truthful answer break their fragile detente? She had killed too, but she seemed to take no satisfaction in it. It felt improper to confess his sincere feelings on the matter.

He knew why he wanted to tell her things, but why would she want to hear them? Maybe she was trying to put together a more accurate picture of who he was, so she could predict his behavior better. That made sense. Her prior portrait of him had been so dear and loving, and so very naive. 

Lucy Gray just looked at him. “You promised,” she said.

Technically, he’d promised not to tell her lies. That was different than promising to always give her the truth. One of the best ways to mislead someone, after all, was simply knowing when to keep your mouth shut. But he wanted to tell her, so he indulged the question. It could go wrong, but it might build trust too. 

Did he like it? He thought through them, trying to find the common thread. Mostly, he’d just wanted to survive. 

“I like feeling safe after,” he said. Safe and in control, like they could never hurt him again. 

Lucy Gray’s gaze dropped. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, in understanding.

His heart leapt. “You know that feeling,” he said, relieved that a good person could feel it too. When she didn’t look up at him, he pushed: “Don’t you?”

She raised her eyes and the look in them was so sad. “I do,” she admitted. 

He felt better somehow, sharing this with her. But he also knew that this wasn't the whole truth. Highbottom hadn’t been a threat to him, and he had enjoyed killing that hateful old man. And he was going to enjoy killing Dr. Gaul too, when the time was right. She’d hurt Lucy Gray. 

“I like getting even too,” he said, just to be sure he was keeping his word.

This confession didn't strike a chord with her. “Not much for revenge killing, myself,” Lucy Gray said.

How curious. “The thought of me putting a stop to her doesn’t feel good?” he asked, fascinated. 

She took a slow breath. “World might be better off,” she allowed. 

“So, you do like the idea,” he said, delighted to be able to do something for her. To have her sign off on this one. “You approve.” 

“Do you need me to?” she asked, tilting her head. 

He probably was giving too much away here, but it felt good to talk to her again. It had always been so easy to share things with her. Her mind was sharp but not unkind. She took people as they were. Seeing the world with an artist's eye, she could observe without rushing to judgment. He feared her opinion of him, but he craved it too. 

He shrugged. “Might be nice.”

“But there’s plenty more like her,” Lucy Gray said. “Aren’t there?”

“I suppose.”

The light in her eyes dimmed. “Then what’s the point?” she asked. She sounded so very tired that he ached to hear it. 

“It would balance the scales,” he said, trying to encourage her.

“What scales?” Lucy Gray asked. “What balance? Everything’s wrong here.” She leaned forward in her chair, meeting his eyes. “Can't you see it?”

He could feel her desire to be understood rising to meet his own, and he welcomed it, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to see. He frowned. “How do you mean?”

“The lab people,” she said, “they were just like her. They used to–” tears came to her eyes, sudden and heart-wrenching, her lips thinning in pain, “used to talk about makeup and parties while I was…” her eyes lost focus, “hurting.” A tear traced down her cheek. “Like I wasn’t even there.”

The force of will she’d been exerting to hold strong evaporated then. She was, in a moment, just a scared, hurting girl. Tears sliding down her face, her gaze lost. 

The sight clawed at his heart. But he couldn't go to her or comfort her the way he used to. He didn't have the right. 

Quite the opposite. Listening to her cry, his thoughts twisted around one sharp, jagged point: had she cried like this about what he'd done? Hiding in some damp corner of the woods, alone and scared while the pure, sweet boy she’d thought she knew had turned into an animal. 

Were some of her nightmares about him? 

Put in that light, this conversation took on an eerie quality. Why was she giving him a chance like this? Perhaps because she could see how much he was risking for her now. But even with that, didn’t she want to take her pound of flesh for his betrayal? 

Shame and a deep sense of wrongness churned inside him as he sat there, averting his eyes to give her some privacy. He found himself wishing idly that he could just leap out the window. He wanted desperately to get away from how horrible this felt. 

After a while, good manners kicked in. He reached for his handkerchief and then paused. She didn’t want him coming near her right now, obviously. Instead of carrying it over to her, he stood, placed it neatly on the corner of the desk nearest her, and then sat back down. 

She reached out and took it, dabbing at her eyes, trying to master her emotions. But the memories must have overcome her again. She buried her face in his handkerchief, her shoulders shaking. 

His heart ached like an overstrained muscle. He felt her anguish and then a deep, cold rage. How dare they treat his Lucy Gray like that? Who did they think they were? She was worth a hundred – no, a thousand of them. 

Beneath his anger, the memory of sitting beside a tank of test subject as they suffocated gnawed at him. Had he made their miserable end that much worse just by sitting there, chattering away like a jabberjay? Repeating what his mentor wanted to hear like they weren’t even there?

Did those Avoxes have families who'd wish him dead if they knew the way he'd behaved? The same way he was wishing the people who had treated Lucy Gray like she was nothing dead. But, then again, what did it matter? Even if they wanted him dead, they weren't strong enough to do something about it. But he was.

He couldn’t comfort Lucy Gray like he used to. He could never be that pure, sweet boy for her again. But he could do what he was good for and give her something no one else could. If Dr. Gaul wasn’t enough, maybe killing all of the people who had acted just like her would be.

“Would you like to tell me their names?” he offered. He’d have to be careful about it–it could take years to do it right–but he could keep an eye on them and wait for an opportunity.

She looked up slowly, staring at him like a mouse transfixed by a snake. “I want to tell you,” she whispered. She seemed disturbed by that.

“Go on,” he coaxed. “It’s all right.” All she had to do was tell him and then she’d never have to think about it again. He’d take care of the rest. 

She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you offering?”

“They hurt you,” he said. “I take that personally.”

Lucy Gray shook her head slowly. “I can’t,” she said. 

“Can’t or won’t?” he asked. Did the staff hide their identities? He doubted it. He was pretty sure he could figure out one of the culprits all by himself. That fashion-forward assistant, Hera something, with the expensive new dress, seemed a likely candidate.

“Won’t,” she said. Somehow, it was as if refusing his offer made her feel stronger. She was sitting up straighter now and her tears were gone. 

“Why not?” he asked. And why had rejecting his help made her feel better?

“That’s not how I live my life,” Lucy Gray said firmly. “And I won’t let them–or you–change that.” The proud tilt of her chin had returned and she met his eyes with confidence. 

“I bet I can guess one,” he said, watching her expression. “Hera.” 

Lucy Gray’s lips parted in shock and he knew that he’d gotten it right. Hera, Hera, lovely lab assistant, chatting about makeup and parties while you hurt my girl. Enjoy your dresses while you can. 

“I bet I can figure out the rest too,” he said. It shouldn’t be that difficult. There had to be all kinds of records in the Citadel, and he was the doctor’s protege. That granted him a lot of leeway to poke around. 

“Why?” she asked. 

“They hurt you, Lucy Gray,” he said. He couldn’t give her anything else. He couldn’t take back what he’d done. But he could help her escape and then erase the memory of what they’d done to her. Get rid of documents and culprits. Eventually, he might be able to make sure people stopped looking for her altogether. 

Lucy Gray sighed. “Do what you like,” she said. “But I won’t give you their names.” On her lap, her hands tightened around his handkerchief, as if she was drawing strength from it. “And when you kill that doctor–” she said, “don’t think it’s for me.” 

He nodded, trying hard not to let his hurt show. She didn’t want anything from him. This was the best he could offer and she threw it back in his face. Well, honestly. What did he expect? 

At least they could communicate and had a foundation to work from in planning her escape. That was all he could reasonably hope for. He still couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t brought up what he’d done, though. She wasn’t petty enough to draw it out just to torture him. 

“Are you going to tell Tigris about me?” he asked finally, determined to just get it over with. Even if she wasn’t forthright with him, her reaction would tell him a lot. 

Lucy Gray squinted at him, looking confused. “About Sejanus?” 

He blinked at her. Now he was confused. Why was she focusing on his supposed best friend and not what he’d done to her? 

“What else?” he threw out casually, as a lure. Had she forgotten somehow? Maybe the conditioning had caused it. If so, what happened when the memory returned?

She shook her head. “It would only hurt her.”

“But I lied to you,” he said, testing the lure. Did the lie bother her the most or was there, perhaps, something more traumatic she could hold against him? Like, say, a little attempted murder by a rabid boy with a gun. 

“And I ran,” she said. “I told you – without trust, you might as well be dead to me.”

He nodded slowly. She did remember what happened, but somehow not what he’d done. “You dropped my mother’s scarf,” he said, watching her reaction. 

Lucy Gray winced. “I ran. I was scared. You–” she licked her lips, “you know you weren’t acting right, Coriolanus.”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted. “Don’t you want revenge for that?” 

“I told you,” she sounded tired again, “that’s not how I live my life.” 

It took all he had to fight the urge to smile. She didn’t know! She’d been gone by the time he’d come for her. He could feel the weight of a year’s guilt slipping off his shoulders. If he hadn’t hurt her–if she hadn’t even been there–where was the crime? 

If a boy loses his mind in the forest and no one’s there to hear it, did he make a sound? 

The best part was that he didn’t have to tell her a single lie. All he had to do was keep the truth from her. That wasn’t the same, right? 

“I suppose I’m glad, then,” he said, barely containing his joy at her ignorance, “that you’re not one for revenge.” 

“I do have a favor to ask,” she said, “if you'll consider it.” She nervously twisted his handkerchief between her hands. “Matters a lot more to me than getting even.”

He nodded, interested. “What is it?” 

“Can you get me more of that poison? I –” her face crumpled and she was on the edge of tears again. She took a moment to contain herself before continuing. “I need to know I’ve got a way out,” she said, “if they come for me.”

That was a big favor. But it made sense. She needed to know that she had some control over her life, after everything had been ripped away from her. He could understand that. 

If he failed her, that poison would make the difference between a quick death and a lifetime of torture. How could he deny her? But he needed some reassurances first.

“Promise you won’t –” he groped for a delicate way to put it, “be hasty?” Her mental state wasn’t good, that much was obvious. He didn’t want to give her something if she was suicidal. The poison should be an escape route of last resort. 

“I don’t give up easy,” she said, raising her chin. 

That was true. Even with the odds against her, she’d fought with all she had in the Games. And she’s clawed her way back from the worst Dr. Gaul had thrown at her. She had a strong will to live.

“And you won’t hurt my family?” He didn’t dare ask her to promise not to hurt him. That would be taking too much advantage of her ignorance. 

Her eyes widened. “I swear it,” she said. “You know I’d never hurt innocent people like that, Coriolanus.”

He did know it. She hadn’t even wanted him to kill the people who’d tortured her. It was strange, how Lucy Gray could be so similar to him and so different too. She wasn’t gentle by nature; she was a victor and a survivor. She had killed. But she wasn’t a killer like him. She lived by that bright line she saw in her mind, between good and evil. 

He wondered how it could be so clear to her. 

“All right,” he said. “I’ll arrange it.” 

“Thank you,” said the girl who didn’t know what he’d done. The girl who never, ever needed to know what he'd done. She gave him a tentative smile–something real, though not much more than a polite lifting of the corners of her lips–and he entertained some modest hopes. 

It would be nice to part on good terms this time. They could go on with their lives after, each remembering the other fondly. That was a good way for young love to end, wasn’t it? 

And maybe doing the right thing like this with Tigris would help her. She could remember this summer when she needed to ignore the things he had to do in the future. Then he could move forward with his life and his family in peace. 

“Would you do me a favor in return?” he asked. 

He hands, which had been twisting his handkerchief nervously, stilled. “What could I do for you?” she asked, looking perplexed. 

“The nightmares,” he started, trying to phrase it diplomatically, “if they’re a problem, we have a doctor you could–”

Lucy Gray tensed. “No doctors,” she cut in sharply, interrupting him.

He gave her a look, raising his eyebrows. “You won’t consider it?” He was willing to bend on letting her have poison in his home, but she wouldn’t even let him finish his sentence? 

Lucy Gray shook her head. “No doctors,” she repeated and then bit her lip. “I don’t like them,” she said quietly, like she was confiding a secret. There was something so young and scared about her in that moment that it hurt to witness. 

Did people in the Seam even have access to doctors? They’d seemed to get by with herbs and superstition. Could it be that Dr. Gaul was the only real medical professional Lucy Gray had ever received care from? 

How awful. 

“Of course,” he said. “Never mind, then.” 

“Is there anything else?” she asked. “I get tired easy these days.” 

Coriolanus stood politely. “Nothing that can’t wait,” he said. “It was good talking to you, Lucy Gray.” He was going to add that he’d missed her, but then thought better of it.

Lucy Gray looked up at him, as if she couldn’t quite understand what she was seeing. He wondered if she’d write another song about him. This one would most definitely not be about purity. After a moment, she stood and nodded her farewell as she left.

He waited until he was sure she was gone to relax, sinking back down into his comfortable leather desk chair and smiling to himself. She didn’t hate him. He wasn’t one of her nightmares. And she’d never tell Tigris about him. She couldn’t because she didn’t even know. And she never had to. He could keep the truth safely away from her for the rest of her life. Control the narrative of their relationship and arrange a better ending for them both.

It could be just like it had never happened.

Chapter Text

“There’d been little music in his life until Lucy Gray appeared."
-Suzanne Collins, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, 127

After their conversation in the study, Coriolanus saw the summer in a new light. Lucy Gray’s precious ignorance changed everything. It was a rare opportunity. A very dangerous one, to be sure, but worth the price. Not only could he use this good deed to keep Tigris happy in the future, he could rewrite the past with Lucy Gray too. He could make everything right. 

The important thing–second only to not getting caught–was to make Lucy Gray’s stay with them as pleasant as possible. Tigris had already done a lot toward that end. She had been kind and generous, providing for the other girl’s needs and keeping her company. He’d even heard Lucy Gray strumming a guitar the other night. Tigris must have picked one up from Pluribus.

What was left? There was the poison Lucy Gray had asked for. He could put that in his mother's silver compact and offer it as a gift. That way she’d always have something of him with her. As the long years passed, he could take comfort in knowing she was out there somewhere, remembering him at his best. Being brave for her. Taking care of her.

But how to present it? The kitchen calendar gave him an idea. He saw that Grandma’am’s bi-monthly bridge game with the other pre-war fossils was coming up. The rose garden would be safe for a few hours. Lucy Gray loved being out in nature. Even the luxury of the penthouse must feel claustrophobic after so many weeks cooped up inside. Hopefully, sunshine and flowers would lift her spirits.

Coriolanus spent more time over the next two days planning what he’d wear to take Lucy Gray up to the garden than he did preparing for the finest Capitol parties. After much deliberation, he chose his royal blue herringbone linen vest and matching trousers. He paired this with a crisp dress shirt and his white gold cuff links. How he loved those cuff links. They were pure class, elegant and expensive without being ostentatious. As it happened, they were at the top of his list of items to sell to finance Lucy Gray’s escape too. Might as well enjoy them before they were gone.

–

The moment he heard the front door shut behind Tigris and Grandma’am, Coriolanus sprang into action. He checked his clothes and hair in the bathroom mirror, appreciating his new haircut. It hadn’t been such a bad idea to let the curls out a bit more. It made Tigris happy and it was still tidy enough. Not too boyish. He tucked the silver compact, newly refilled with poison, into his trouser pocket and crossed the hall to tap on the guest room door. 

After a moment, Lucy Gray opened the door and regarded him silently. She was wearing a green sundress with vines and small flowers embroidered on the bodice. Her chestnut curls were loose about her shoulders, with just one side pinned up with a brass filigree dragonfly clip. The metalwork on the wings was so delicate that they gave the appearance of being translucent. 

Coriolanus recognized the piece with surprise. That was all Tigris had left of her mother’s jewelry. They must be close friends now, if his cousin was willing to share it. The whole look was Lucy Gray’s style, unlike Tigris’ resized tea dress had been, and he was glad to see it. He hoped it helped her feel more like herself.

“Tigris told me that you haven’t seen the garden yet,” he said. “Would you like to?”

Lucy Gray peered around him, down the hall, as if expecting someone to pop out. “Is it safe?” she asked quietly. 

“They won’t be back until after lunch,” he said. He’d gone over his plan with Tigris to make sure she’d keep Grandma’am away until then. 

He offered his arm to Lucy Gray, all polite and proper. Pleasantries like that had always made her feel better about things. There was an odd similarity between Covey ways and his best Capitol society manners. He remembered how little Maude Ivory had beamed at him and curtesyed prettily when he’d bowed and presented some of Ma Plinth’s popcorn balls to her as if they were a rare treasure.

Lucy Gray looked down at his proffered arm and back up at him. “You sure?” she asked, still not moving to join him. 

“I’m certain,” he assured her, holding his arm steady. “It’s very pretty up there,” he added, temptingly. “More roses than you’ve ever seen.” He felt confident in that. District 12 wasn’t big on much of anything, apart from coal, and certainly not floral displays. “All kinds too. I’m eager to learn your favorite.” 

Lucy Gray’s tense expression eased. “That does sound very fine,” she admitted. 

“It is,” he said, and called on every etiquette lesson Grandma’am had drilled into his head. “As you’ll see, if you do me the honor?” 

Lucy Gray gave a small smile and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. A change overcame her then, as she entered into the spirit of the thing: her posture grew upright and proud rather than skittish. She stepped up to him and rested her hand on his arm, lightly, with all the grace of a queen with a favorite courtier. 

Coriolanus’ heart swelled with pleasure as they set off down the hall. His stratagem was going to work, he was sure of it. Roses and sunshine were just the thing for her. He wanted very much to–as the Covey way of speaking put it–’get some happy in her head.’

–

When they stepped into the greenhouse, Lucy Gray’s breath caught and her lips formed a soundless Oh. Coriolanus could see why. The greenhouse was particularly beautiful this morning. Lit by golden sunlight through the glass roof, the roses were bright as jewels. 

She let go of his arm then, drawn away by the flowers. She floated between them, blossom to blossom, like a butterfly. From time to time she would pause to lean close to a flower, breathing it in, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

Coriolanus leaned against the potting bench, smiling as he watched her. He’d forgotten what it was like to just feel joy and smile. Lately, he’d been doling them out with careful intent, the way Grandma’am used her roses to maintain the family’s prestige.

Lucy Gray was so different up here, easy and free. He was glad to see it. The garden had always cheered him up too, ever since he was a child. Caring for roses was as much a science as an art. The rules and precision comforted him even as generations of his family’s creativity inspired him. The rest of the world might be chaos, but the Snow garden was always beauty and perfection. 

If only Lucy Gray was as easy to keep as a rose. He could build her a tower so high that no one could ever reach her except him. It would have a garden, full of sunshine and flowers, and a little apartment. But a girl like her could never be content with safety at such a cost. She couldn’t live without music and an audience to charm any more than he could live without ambitions and goals for the future. 

What was the point of living without the things that made you feel alive?

After a while, Lucy Gray circled back around to him. “I found my favorite,” she announced, her eyes bright.

“Already?” Coriolanus teased. “You haven’t seen the whole garden yet.”

“I know,” she said, “but this is the one.” 

She reached out, taking his hand and tugging him along behind her. She led him to the back of the greenhouse, to a hybrid rose with lovely double ruffled petals. The delicate layers of the large blossoms shaded from a light yellow at the center to peachy orange and rich pink at the edges.

Lucy Gray lightly cupped a particularly gorgeous blossom with her other hand. Too much touching could be bad for them, but he didn’t mention it. She was looking at it like it was the face of a beloved friend. 

“I know you call them Wildfire,” she said, referring to the neat plastic identification tag at the base of the plant, “but they look like sunset to me.” 

“They do, don’t they?” he said, looking at them with new appreciation. They’d been part of his life since he was a child. “You have good taste. These are award winning.” Grandma’am wouldn’t spare precious space for any rose that wasn’t a fine specimen, of course, but even for the Snow garden, Wildfire was renowned. 

“Mm,” Lucy Gray said. “And they don’t just look good, the smell is–” she leaned in, taking a deep breath of their scent, “heavenly.”

“I’d offer you one, for your room –” he started, apologetic, “but Grandma’am is very careful with these. This plant and the one outside are all she has left of my great-aunt, Calliope.” Grandma’am had been an only child and had taken to her new husband’s little sister instantly, doting on her. “She died young,” he explained, “of melancholy.” 

That was the way Grandma’am had always said it, anyway. Coriolanus had been ten years old before Tigris had quietly explained that this was a nice way of saying the girl had committed suicide. He’d wanted to learn more about her life, but Tigris didn’t know more than that. There was no one left to ask but Grandma’am herself. And he’d never risk hurting her by raising the topic.

From the sadness that flickered across Lucy Gray’s expression, he suspected that the euphemism was familiar to her. Coriolanus wondered how much cultural exchange there had been, between districts, Capitol, and Covey, long before the war. What had things been like when Grandma’am was their age? 

“Don’t worry yourself about getting one for me,” Lucy Gray said. “It’s pleasure enough just visiting with them. I think they’re happier here, anyway.” 

He was delighted by the way she spoke as if the roses were her hosts and she their honored guest. The world always felt so much more alive when he was with her. Or maybe it was that he felt alive with her, so he saw the life in the world too.

“I’m sure they haven’t had such a charming visitor in ages,” he said, shifting so their fingers were laced together. Her hands were so dainty and soft, but they were a working musician’s hands too. Her fingertips bore the calluses of her guitar.

She took to the move comfortably, idly tracing her thumb over his knuckles. It was a small touch, but the simple contact tingled through him. She seemed content to just stand there together, holding hands and admiring the flowers.

After a while, he gave in to his curiosity. “Did the Covey ever play shows in the Capitol,” he asked, “before the war?”

“Not sure,” Lucy Gray said. “Mama and Daddy passed before I was old enough to ask about things like that.”

She didn’t have any adults to tell her the stories of her family. Not even a single grandparent like Coriolanus had. The thought of a family’s past just being gone like that left him feeling unmoored. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked.” 

Lucy Gray shook her head. “It’s good you asked. I like talking about them. There’s just a lot I don’t know, is all.”

“What did –” he paused. How to phrase a question that would allow her to talk about them without making her sad? “What sort of things do you remember them telling you?”

“Oh, all sorts. About plants and gathering and how to put on a good show. They taught me all the Covey ways too – who we are. And there’s the music, of course. They fed me songs like mother’s milk.” Her gaze went soft, bittersweet. “Every time I open my mouth to sing,” Lucy Gray said, “I can feel them with me.” 

It was one of those things she said sometimes, like the world was full of magic. But this one made sense to him. Wasn’t her voice a gift from her mother and father, after all? A gift of their genes and their teaching. Nature and nurture in harmony. And weren’t the Covey songs like her inheritance, the living memory of her family? 

“I believe that,” Coriolanus said, before he could think better of it. “I mean –” he struggled for a moment, over whether to be honest. Then he remembered that he’d have precious few opportunities to speak with her before she left, and pushed on. “I don’t believe in a lot of things. Not in gods or fate –” or stars he thought, but didn’t say. “I believe that, though,” he said, sincerely. “That they’re with you.” Not as literal ghosts, of course, but that her family was with her in every way that mattered. “I’d never really heard music that meant something, before you. But yours does. I think other people can feel them with you too.”

Her voice was a whole chorus of voices. Generations of talent and love. He wished he could record her singing before she left, so he could keep part of her with him always.

Lucy Gray took that in, listening closely as he fumbled his way to the truth. “You never said, before,” she observed. “About not believing in things.”

“I didn’t know how,” he said. It was rude to contradict someone when they told you something nice. Once she’d talked like that, ever mentioning his true feelings might seem like that, like contradicting her. He’d just been glad that she’d seen her magic in their love. It meant it was real to her too, in her own terms. It meant she’d be true.

“Do you think I’m silly,” she asked, “for believing in things?” He was grateful to see that she seemed more curious than offended.

“I think you’re extraordinary,” Coriolanus said, simply. “And that you should get to do whatever you want.”

Who had the right to judge her? Certainly not her lessers.

Lucy Gray mulled over that, looking at him thoughtfully. But she didn’t continue the topic. “Which rose is your favorite?” she asked instead. Her eyes tracked over the plants in the greenhouse. “Is it here?"

“It’s outside,” he said, “let me show you.” He led her toward the back door of the greenhouse. “It’s a climbing rose,” he explained, as he opened the door for them. “They need a lot of space.” 

They strolled, hand in hand, along the wood decking that surrounded the large, outdoor planters. The last time he’d been up here was back in May, before Dr. Gaul had surprised him with his ‘summer project.’ He’d spent a weekend helping Grandma’am prune and fertilize the outdoor plants. 

Grandma’am refused to accept help from the Plinth Avoxes on any of this. They could clean the greenhouse and sweep up here, but caring for the Snow roses themselves was strictly a family affair. For a long time, the roses had been all that remained of the Snow grandeur for Grandma’am to share with them. 

Tigris had been there too, of course, working beside him like always. Coriolanus felt a sense of vertigo as he remembered how cold they’d been with each other. They’d barely spoken a word. What if they’d gone on like that forever, their hearts in a perpetual winter even as years passed and the seasons changed? The thought left him feeling adrift. He must avoid that at all costs.

He and Lucy Gray soon found themselves standing before the large wooden trellis where his favorite rose spread out against the brick back wall of the penthouse’s garden space. This rose bush was taller than him and over five feet wide. The blossoms were rich and plentiful, with petals that were pure white at the center and a brilliant red at the edges. The contrast was stunning.

Lucy Gray took the plant in, her eyes round with delight. “What a gorgeous creature you are,” she said to the rose. She glanced over at him. “It’s got real presence,” she commented, approvingly. 

“It has a good story too,” Coriolanus said. 

“Oh?” She tilted her head. “I’d like to hear, if you’ve a mind to tell it.” 

“My Great-Grandfather made this rose for his wife, Lucrezia,” he explained. He gestured at the plastic name tag at the bottom. “Named it after her too. You see, Lucrezia’s family, the Roths, were at odds with the Snows at the time. But the two of them changed all that. The rose symbolized their success – white, for the Snows, and red for the Roths.” Wait. Would Lucy Gray catch the reference? He didn’t suppose district schools took much time for languages. “Roth means red in German,” he hastened to add, just in case.

Lucy Gray nodded slowly, and then there was a spark of mischief in her eyes. “Two households,” she intoned, like a storyteller enthralling her audience, “both alike in dignity.”

“In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,” Coriolanus finished, pleased by the comparison. That play had been one of the only enjoyable parts of Literature class. Who didn’t like a good love story? And one with sword fights and family politics too. It had everything. And the annotated edition the teacher had placed on hold at the Academy library had explained it all very nicely, including the foremost erudite interpretations. He hadn’t felt lost and stupid trying to talk about it in class. “It was a little like that,” he agreed. “But with a much happier ending.” 

“Did you get to meet them?” Lucy Gray asked. “I never met my grandparents, let alone any great-grands.” 

“Well, no.” He didn’t remember much of his family, actually. Not personally, just the stories he’d gotten from Grandma’am, and the living memory of the rose garden. “But I heard the story a lot, growing up. And Grandma’am says I take after Lucrezia,” he gestured at his face, “when I smile.”

“Hm,” Lucy Gray considered. “Give me a smile?”

Coriolanus felt self-conscious, but complied anyway, smiling at her. Where was she going with this? “Good enough?” he asked.

“It’ll do,” Lucy Gray said as she leaned in, looking closely at a blossom and then turned her head, looking at him just as studiously. After a moment, she nodded. “There is a family resemblance,” she decreed, as if Grandma’am had been comparing him to Lucrezia the rose rather than his own great-grandmother. 

Coriolanus laughed. “Thank you,” he said, “I think.” Was it good to be a boy who was like a rose? Perhaps it was. He recalled how much Lucy Gray had liked that he smelled like the flowers.

“Did your family make all of these?” she asked, turning her head to take in the whole outdoor garden. 

“Most of them,” he said. 

She looked back at him. “Do you know how to make a rose, Coriolanus?” she asked, as if this was a very serious matter indeed.

He felt shy suddenly, and inadequate. “Grandma’am is the expert,” he said. “But I get by. Maybe –” he shrugged, “one day, I’ll make my own.” 

Coriolanus didn’t have time for it now, but when he was older perhaps he could putter around in a greenhouse. It would be nice to slow down one day. But only when it was safe, when all his battles were won and there was a child or grandchild ready to lead the family.

Looking at Lucy Gray, he felt inspired. “What’s your favorite color?” he asked her on impulse. “I could make one and name it after you.” 

Surely it would be safe, by the time he got around to it. If anybody asked, he could say the flower was named for a poem. And it would be a nice way to remember her, leaving a secret mark of their love in his family’s memory. If he did his work well enough, Lucy Gray the rose would be an honored part of the Snow gardens for generations.

“I like blue,” the girl herself said. “But roses don’t come in blue, do they?”

It would be tricky. “There are shades of lavender that can pass well enough,” he said. “What if I made the bluest rose I could for you, Lucy Gray?”

She inclined her head, as if she was accepting a formal honor. “I’d love to be a rose,” she said, “like you. I’d want to be a climbing one, mind. Spread out all over the garden, like this beauty. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said. “I’ll do it. And I won’t stop until we’ve won at least two awards.” 

“Aim for three,” Lucy Gray said, smiling. “Just to keep it challenging.”

He laughed. “Okay.” He wanted so badly to hear her sing in that moment that he went for a little subterfuge. “You know, some people think it’s good to sing to plants? Helps them grow.” Grandma’am chatted to them and sang sometimes too. Coriolanus wasn’t sure her off-key warbling benefited them much, but it made her happy. “I know it sounds silly,” he said, “but there’s real science behind it, I believe - something about vibrations, frequencies.” He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

Lucy Gray looked at him for a long moment. “Angling for a song, are you?” she asked, her gaze shrewd. “And using these innocent flowers to do it too!” She shook her head in disappointment. There was a gentle, theatrical quality to the way she said it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. She adjusted things, shifting their intonation. But she wasn’t a liar. 

She was disappointed that he’d tried to manipulate a song out of her. But she was dressing it up prettily, probably because she didn’t want to offend him. Her life was in his hands, after all. 

He felt a blush heat his face at the reminder that she wasn’t here by choice, no matter how pleasant he made it. “Sorry,” he said. “You don't have to.” 

He looked away, feeling foolish. But was it so wrong to want this moment to be as sweet as possible? He was going to have to live a lifetime on the memory. 

She squeezed his hand, drawing his gaze back to her. “Try asking nicely,” she said. 

“All right,” he said. “May I please have a song?” He thought for a moment and then reached down deep inside to the why of it, pulled up what he found there, and gave it to her freely, as an apology. “I missed your voice,” he said. His memory of it had become twisted by the forest. After months of nightmares, all he could remember was the horrid way the mockingjays had echoed her song – and now he knew that hadn’t even been real. Just some mad hallucination. “I missed it,” he said, “every day.” All that had been left was an aching emptiness and the vague memory of how alive her voice had made him feel, once, long ago.  

He looked into her eyes and let her see, let himself be stupid and vulnerable. Her own gaze softened, went tender. She gently nudged her arm against his, tightening her grip on his hand.

“Come to think of it,” she said, “I might know a pretty little something, about roses. Let me see –” she took a breath, closed her eyes. 

Come over the hills, my bonny blue-eyed lad,
Come over the hills to your darling.
You choose the rose, love, and I’ll make the vow
And I’ll be your true love forever.

Either the song wasn’t in the range that had been weakened, or her voice was stronger now. He hoped she was getting better. She sang with such clarity that he felt like it was resounding inside him. It was no wonder she believed in magic, since she could do something so close to it. Listening to her, it was as if she could slow time, drawing it out by filling it with her voice. The sound filled up something empty inside of him too. 

Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows,
And fair is the lily of the valley.
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne
But my love is fairer than any.

He took a shuddering breath and pressed closer, his arm to hers. The summer would end too soon. Then he'd have to live a whole lifetime without her. It was a bitter thought. He pushed it aside, refusing to let it ruin the moment. He focused on being here now, soaking in the beauty of her, like a flower turning its face toward the sun after a long, cold night.

’Twas down by the green shady woods that we strayed
And the moon and the stars they were shining.
The moon shone its rays on his locks of golden hair
And he swore he’d be my love forever.

He wondered if she’d chosen a song about a fair, blue-eyed lad on purpose. Was it a reference to him? She had said her favorite color was blue. True love forever – how wonderful that would be. Just link hands and walk forward together, changing the world, making it what they wanted it to be. Making it a place where they could have a good life. Like Great-Grandfather Hector and his beloved Lucrezia. 

How on earth had they managed it? The world must have taken more kindly to being changed back then. 

Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows,
And fair is the lily of the valley.
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne
But my love is fairer than any.

Lucy Gray opened her eyes. “It gets sad after that,” was all she said.

Yes, well. It would, wouldn’t it? If he tried to push for impossible things, they’d end up more like Romeo and Juliet, dead in each other’s arms, than Hector and Lucrezia. That was, if Lucy Gray would even want him now. He could hardly be certain of that. 

The thought helped bring him back to reality. As much as he might want to idle hours away here in the garden with Lucy Gray, escaping the world with her, that just wasn't practical. It was time to address the true purpose of this sunlit stroll. He let go of her hand and reached into his pocket, withdrawing the silver compact.

“I got what you asked for,” he said, extending it to her.

Lucy Gray looked down at its polished surface gleaming bright in the sun. “A loan?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “It’s yours now.” There would never be another girl he’d want to have it.

“I can't.” Lucy Gray touched her hand to her throat, shaking her head. “I ruined her scarf,” she said, regretfully. 

“That wasn’t your fault,” Coriolanus said. The thought of her feeling guilty for anything that had happened that day was revolting. “None of it,” he said, and then inspiration struck. “Why don’t we just agree to forget all about the forest?” he suggested.

That would finally put it to rest. He could bury the guilt that still gnawed at him. And she’d be so much happier too, never knowing the truth.

Lucy Gray frowned. “You can’t just forget like that.”

“Why not?” he asked. If they both agreed, surely that would make it all right. “Who would it hurt?”

She regarded him for a long moment. “Maybe you can,” she allowed. “But I can’t. And –” she seemed to gird herself, “I can’t take your gift, Coriolanus. I owe you too much already.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, fighting to keep frustration out of his voice. His dream of how this morning would go was evaporating before his eyes.

“How’d you figure?” Lucy Gray asked. “All of this you’re doing, helping me – it can’t be cheap. And I know it’s not safe.”

This wasn’t right. Not right at all. He’d never wanted her to feel guilty. He’d just wanted to get to be her hero again. Just one last time. That way, she’d remember him fondly through the years, like he would always remember her. 

“But it’s my fault this happened to you,” he explained. She hadn’t been selected randomly. Dr. Gaul took her because of him. It was that simple. She wasn’t indebted to him, he was repairing the wrongs he’d done her. Both the ones she knew of and the one she didn’t. 

“You didn’t know,” Lucy Gray said. “You didn’t want this.” Her expression grew doubtful and then she shook her head, as if dislodging an unwanted thought. “I know you didn’t. You said so, in the park.”

His thoughts stuttered to a halt. “You heard that?”

She nodded. “It’s like being trapped underwater,” she said, “when I’m – like that. But I pick up a lot. And people – ” her gaze took on that far away look she had when she was remembering what had happened to her, “they show you their true colors.” 

He tried to remember everything he’d said and done that day. He’d conducted himself well enough in the lab and the park. But in the study, with Tigris – what had Lucy Gray overheard of that conversation? He felt so exposed. What miserable details of his life, how he’d sold his honor to rise in the world, was she privy to now? Had she figured out how fragile all of his successes were? No wonder she was worried about how much all of this cost.

Though perhaps that raw insight had helped him in the end. “Is that why you were willing to hear me out?” he asked, thinking back to their conversation in the study. Even accounting for her ignorance, she’d given him a lot more trust than he’d expected.

Lucy Gray nodded. 

She’d thought she’d seen his ‘true colors’ that first day. But it had been dumb luck that she hadn’t heard something awful. Or worse. If he hadn’t followed his heart and brought her home to his family, if he’d forced himself to kill her instead – Lucy Gray would have known. She would have felt it. She would have spent the last moments of her life hurting and terrified, witness to all the ugliness of what he truly was. 

He felt dizzy, as if he’d nearly stepped over the edge of a deep chasm. Everything inside of him had been against it, but he knew from experience that he could have forced himself past that. He’d done it before. He knew how deeply he could betray himself and survive it. But if he’d done it and then Dr. Gaul had told him Lucy Gray had been aware the whole time? Perhaps as some final test of his mettle? 

He’d have come up here and walked off the roof.

“It doesn’t matter that I didn’t want it,” he said, desperate for her to understand. “She did this to you because of me.”

“That’s her sin,” Lucy Gray said, “not yours.” Her warm brown eyes were so gentle and full of concern. For him. 

Shame burned inside him at her kindness.

“No,” he insisted. “I knew what she was like. I chose someone like her for my mentor. I brought her into your life.” True, once Dr. Gaul had Sejanus’ death to hang over his head, rejecting her offer of mentorship would have been difficult. But he hadn’t even tried. He’d been too eager to begin his meteoric rise. “I have to make that right.”

“It’s enough you’re helping me, then,” she said. “More than enough.” She looked down at the antique silver warming in his palm. “Why do you want me to have that too?” she asked.

He curled his fingers tightly around the compact and lowered it to his side. He remembered pleading with her to take it into the Arena. Go on. Take it. Take me with you. He was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to convince her this time. 

“You don’t owe me anything, but I hope –” he swallowed hard, his palm sweaty against the silver case, “that you’ll keep it and remember me. That’s all. If you feel obligated to do something, do that.”

He’d intended to make things easier for her, but that hope crumbled as he spoke. She looked positively haunted by his suggestion, and he couldn’t figure out why. He gritted his teeth, hating the way the conversation kept slipping through his fingers. 

Why couldn’t something be simple for once?

“I met Ma the other day,” Lucy Gray said, seemingly apropos of nothing. “She overheard Tigris and me singing. Recognized me. She knows I’m not–” she made a face, gesturing at her own head, “you know.”

Coriolanus gaped at her. “She knows?” he repeated, stupidly. 

Lucy Gray nodded, her gaze watchful. 

Great. Who might Ma have told by now? She didn’t have much in the way of friends or visitors, but still. She could tell her husband or let something slip to Grandma’am. Either one would move to resolve the situation. Coriolanus didn’t just belong to himself. He was their investment in the future too. One they would not so easily lose to his own foolishness. 

He paced away from Lucy Gray, his heart thundering in his ears. Visions of Peacekeepers rolling up to drag her away flashed through his mind. What was he supposed to do, try to fight them off? Grab a gun and have a shootout in the living room? Or stand there helplessly and let Lucy Gray’s last image of him be of a coward?

“Did you think that might be pertinent to share?” he asked crisply, glancing back at her. “I’m only trying to keep us alive, after all,” he said, struggling to check his mounting frustration. “Unless the two of you would like to take over? Then you can be responsible for what happens.” 

He didn’t think they’d enjoy it much. Certainly not if he went around pulling stunts like this. How was he supposed to prepare for threats nobody bothered to tell him about? 

“Don’t you go blaming Tigris now,” Lucy Gray said firmly, and he heard frustration creeping into her voice too. “It was my decision. I didn’t trust you yet.” She was trying to fall on her sword for her friend. How touching. Unnecessary, though. He already knew Lucy Gray was the dominant personality in that duo. “Ma promised not to tell,” she added, as if that mattered. 

“Oh, well, if she promised–” he scoffed. “That doesn’t mean anything! The woman’s out of her mind on pills most of the time.” 

The on-call psychiatrist had written him a prescription for the same tranquilizers Ma used, along with his sleeping pills. The first time he’d tried them, he’d felt like his mind was untethered from his body, floating off in a warm, frictionless space. It had been such a relief. That, of course, was why he didn’t take them. He knew to be wary of the lure of escape. He’d spent far too much time as a Peacekeeper drinking to forget.

Lucy Gray’s expression was pained. “I know,” she said, heavily. “I saw.” 

All the fight drained out of him at that. Oh, right. Lucy Gray hadn’t conveniently forgotten about Sejanus too. She’d seen what had become of Ma and, more importantly, she knew why. She knew what Coriolanus had done to that poor, simple, helpless woman. With that information, the way he had just spoken about her must have seemed extremely callous. 

Remorseless, even.

He stopped pacing and looked at Lucy Gray, trying to figure out how bad this was. Her pained expression – was there a hint of disgust in it too? Well, why not? He’d taken a mother’s only child from her. He’d hardened his heart against her pain. And Lucy Gray had seen. He’d shown her that, like an idiot. He might be used to himself by now–to living with what he truly was–but she wasn’t. 

“She liked our singing,” Lucy Gray continued, before he could figure out what to say. Her expression was soft and sorrowful. “Asked if I knew ‘Wayfaring Stranger.’ When I sang it, Coriolanus –” her voice dropped to a whisper, “she wept.”

He must be missing something here. “Why?”

“It’s about the people we've lost,” she said, “waiting for us in the sweet by and by.”

“Oh.” That. Happy dead people floating in the clouds. Rewards for the good and punishment for the wicked. The lie that there was justice somewhere, somehow, if only in another life. It was the kind of lie that helpless people like Ma told themselves to get through the day. 

He could picture the scene now. Ma crying her eyes out on Tigris’ shoulder while Lucy Gray sang and thought about what a monster Coriolanus was. He’d taken all that woman had. Her son–her only joy in life–and her future. Children were, after all, the only real afterlife anyone got.

Coriolanus rubbed at the bridge of his nose and took a slow, deep breath. “I see,” he said. He hastily shoved his mother’s compact back into his pocket, giving up on it. 

Lucy Gray had seen too much to want a keepsake of him. Even without the forest, she knew enough to be sickened by him. That’s why she’d brought Ma up. She’d seen what he’d done to that poor woman and she couldn’t stomach it. She’d been charming and gracious earlier, but she could do that as easy as breathing. It had been her job since she was a child. 

It didn’t mean anything. 

“I’ll get you something else,” he mumbled, glancing away. 

He couldn’t meet her eyes, so he looked out over the rose garden instead. He traced his eyes over the the long planters with their neatly spaced rose bushes and along the back wall where climbing roses spread out like untamed creatures. It was all just as beautiful as ever but, for the first time in his life, he hated the sight of it. 

He hated himself too, for indulging in boyish fantasies of love. Everything was tainted by the knowledge that she'd just been enduring him. How disgusting Lucy Gray must have found it, to be courted by such a creature. 

He wished he could sneak away. The thought of conversing with her further was turning his stomach. His internship started soon. He wanted to ignore her and focus on his bright future instead. Besides, he didn’t need to spend time socializing with Lucy Gray to do his duty toward her, helping her escape. Surely she’d like things better that way too. 

“Did you do it for the money?” she asked.

Her words hit him with a shock, as if she’d slapped him. “What?” he choked out, his gaze snapping back to her. “No. I had no way of knowing they’d–” he considered the possibility of surveillance catching something and paused, measuring his next words carefully. “I had no way of knowing what would happen.”

If that’s what she suspected, no wonder she was disgusted. What Coriolanus had done was bad enough. He’d betrayed his friend, but he’d done it to survive. He’d obeyed the law. Killing a boy just to take his money, though? That was criminal. It was monstrous. 

“Then why?” she asked. 

“I thought I had to,” he said. “I thought it was the only way to survive.”

He felt a strange sense of relief saying the words. It really was that simple in the end. Something a victor would have to understand, even if she couldn’t accept it. He’d thought he was fighting for his life. In retrospect, he might doubt, he might wonder if there'd been a better way. But there was nothing to be done about it now. The boy was dead. His mother walked around in a daze. And the Snows survived.

Coriolanus didn’t insult Lucy Gray by whining about how sorry he was. Right or wrong, there was an animal part of him, the thing Dr. Gaul has shown him when he had killed for the first time. It had kept him alive last summer. It had provided for his family. He knew he’d done shameful things, but he couldn’t be sorry that he was alive and his family was okay, so he had to own up to all of it.

If that’s what he was, then he had to be grateful for it. He hadn’t set the rules, but he wanted to win the game. And only people like him could do it. It was something he could give the people he loved, even if it meant hiding his truth from them. 

Lucy Gray looked at him for what felt like an eternity. Adrenaline burned through him, making his breath come short and his heart race. He felt a prickle of sweat break out on the back of his neck, but tried to look earnest. It was such an effort, which seemed unfair. He was telling the truth. Shouldn’t that be easier than lying?

After a while, she just nodded. 

He looked at her until some combination of things–her straightforward gaze, the sorrow still turning the corners of her lips down, or the way she didn’t fidget, just regarded him evenly–convinced him. She believed him. She understood the kind of animal he was. He wouldn’t kill a boy for his money. But he’d do anything to survive.

There was a small, quiet place inside him then. A measure of peace.

In less than an hour, he’d gone from indulging in fantasies of romance to being grateful–so grateful that he felt sick with it–just for this. He nodded back, too tongue-tied to speak, and turned. He walked until he was at the waist-high brick wall that separated the garden from the edge of the roof. He braced himself against the wall with both hands and just breathed, looking out over the city. 

The Capitol was spread out before him like a patchwork. Here and there, new steel and glass buildings rose up above the grand old stone construction. That was the future. But the past was with them still. All of it, even the ugly parts. Pockmarking the scene were the ruins of bombed out buildings. More than a decade after the war, and some wounds still hadn’t healed. 

Maybe it was fitting, for the city to be like people that way. 

After several long minutes, Lucy Gray walked up beside him. “Never been so high up before,” she said.

When he glanced over at her, there was a look of quiet wonder on her face as she gazed out at the city. She was choosing to interact with him, to move the topic away from his misdeeds. Did this mean she could accept it, if only as something a person who was helping her had done? 

Their fates were linked for the moment. But they wouldn’t always be, would they? She could choose to betray him on the way out the door. Spill the truth to Ma or Strabo. Hadn’t she already been keeping secrets from him? And manipulating Tigris into it too.

A chill crawled up his spine as his thoughts began to spiral. He was always looking for threats. He was always figuring out the best way to neutralize them. This kept him alive, but it could drive him mad too. He looked at Lucy Gray, innocently enjoying the view, and was afraid of himself. He remembered where suspicions like that had taken him, even if she, thankfully, didn’t.

Even survival should have its limits. He wasn’t going to think further about this. He wasn’t. He just had to hope she liked Tigris too much–and would feel too guilty about destroying a little old woman’s life–to tip the Plinths off. Besides, she’d said she felt grateful for the things he was doing for her, hadn’t she? And she didn’t know the one thing that would make her hate him. 

“It’s a lovely view,” he said. “But you don’t want to look straight down.” They were twelve stories up. He’d rather not discover if she was prone to vertigo.

“Oh,” she said, “okay.” She didn’t question it, just sensibly kept her gaze looking out rather than down. “This must be what the birds see,” she observed after a while. “Up high, soaring above all our troubles.”

He looked back at the skyline, captivated by the way she saw it. They were like birds up here, weren’t they? Far above the troubles below, even if they couldn’t take wing and be truly free like the birds could. For a moment, fear and calculation faded away. Instead of threats, the world was full of beauty. 

Despite everything, being with her brought the world alive for him. It probably always would, even if they had a lifetime to spend together. He wished he could have had the chance to find out. But that was all gone now. Fancies about fondly remembering each other too. Even if she wasn’t going to hurt him for what he was, she knew too much. She knew him too well.

No one worth loving would ever be able to accept who he truly was. 

“Must be,” he agreed, just to fill the silence.

“Hm,” she murmured, looking out at a world he was certain she saw so much more in than he ever could. He almost envied her for having an artist’s eye, but it suited her so well and it would be wasted on him. 

He wondered if the view was inspiring a song. What would it sound like? In that moment, all he wanted was to hear it. To know what music was blossoming within her. 

She swayed a little and he reached out instinctively, hand supporting her elbow. “Easy,” he said. “Are you okay?” He could feel a tremor in her muscles under his hand. 

“Didn’t get much sleep last night,” she explained. She didn’t seem bothered by the touch. She didn’t try to move away or brush him off, at least. “Nightmares.”

“I didn’t hear you,” he said, frowning.

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t have. I sat up reading most of the night.”

Too afraid to sleep? He gave the warm, silky bare skin of her arm a comforting squeeze. She deserved so much better than this. 

“I have pills that help,” he offered. “I should have thought of that sooner.” She and Tigris were keeping secrets from him, but he should have guessed. Hadn’t her screams woken him up just a few days ago? He felt like a dunce. “I’ll give you some.” 

If she’d talked to the psychiatrist herself, she could have had her own prescription. She wasn’t going to tolerate that, though, so she could have his instead. The doctor wasn’t exactly the picture of ethics anyway. He seemed to actually know his stuff with the psychiatry, but at the end of the day he was just another Dr. Feelgood to the rich. If Coriolanus requested double his usual pills, he was sure the man would hand them over without blinking.

“Okay,” she said, then she reached up and drew his arm behind her, so it snaked around her waist. The welcoming move puzzled him. He left his hand where she put it, but rather limply. 

What was going on in her head? It seemed to be worlds away from what had been going on in his. As he stood there, trying to make sense of it, quiet settled between them again. 

“Don’t know if I love it or hate it,” Lucy Gray said, breaking the silence. She was frowning at the city now, as if it had insulted her. “It’s so beautiful up here,” she said, “I can almost forget what it’s like down there.” She sighed and wobbled a little, blinking hard. 

He firmed his grip around her waist, steadying her. She really was worn out. He shouldn’t have tried to do so much this morning. She’d told him she got tired easily these days, hadn’t she? But he'd still dragged her up here, pestered her for a song, and then argued with her. Such shabby, thoughtless behavior. 

She needed to go get some sleep, but he was loathe to say it. It would be weeks before Grandma’am’s next bridge game. That was, unless–

“You could visit the garden at night,” he said, already planning it out in his head, “if one of us stays downstairs to make sure Grandma’am is asleep.” 

Lucy Gray and Tigris could come up and enjoy themselves while he read in the living room, keeping an eye out. He was confident he could distract Grandma’am long enough if she happened to wake up. If he couldn’t manage that much, he should reconsider his plans for a career in politics. 

He was sure that Lucy Gray would like it up here at night. The Capitol was so pretty, shining bright beneath the dark sky. He’d come up here sometimes and feel his heart rise at the twinkling city lights, spread out before him like a carpet of stars stretched to the horizon. This was humanity’s last great city. A lone lighthouse against oblivion. It sheltered the remnants of all the great cities that had gone before in its libraries and museums. It maintained order. 

She turned her head, raising an eyebrow at him. “Shooing me off to bed, Coriolanus?” 

“Yes,” he said. “Is it working?” 

Lucy Gray gave a short laugh. “Sure,” she said. “Lend me an arm?”

He turned and offered her his arm. She leaned heavily on it this time. Still, even with that, her pace was slow and strained as they walked. A wild thought occurred to him then. He could just sweep her up in his arms and carry her back, like a hero in a story. The thought was so sudden and so soppy that he cringed internally. 

Hadn’t he made a big enough fool of himself for the day? 

“Do you know what’s causing this?” he asked, concerned. What if the things they’d done to her had damaged something vital?

“Not sure," she said. "Just get these spells sometimes, is all."

She was trying to downplay it, but that sounded terrible. Even if it wasn’t fatal, had her time in the lab left her with a permanent disability? He hated the thought of her struggling out there on her own. After her escape, she was going to have to be on the run for a long time. Years, probably. He could only erase the evidence of her captivity and kill the culprits so fast without getting caught.

Before she left, he’d have to find some kind of medical care that she’d accept. He mulled over that as they walked. He curbed his longer stride to match hers until he felt like he was just shuffling along. When they got to the stairs, he was sincerely worried she’d fall. 

“It might be safer if I carried you,” he offered, keeping his tone neutral. He wasn’t trying to live out a fantasy of being her knight in shining armor. He really wasn’t! He just didn’t want her to fall and crack her head on the stairs, that’s all. 

Lucy Gray stopped and looked up at him, squinting. The skin around her eyes was tight with exhaustion, making the dark circles stand out. “Okay,” she said. “If you don’t mind, I don’t.” 

No turning back now. Coriolanus bent down, slipping an arm under her knees as she put her own arms around his neck. Supporting her back and legs, he lifted her smoothly. She was so light, disturbingly so, but before he could get worried about that, she settled against him like she belonged there. Her head rested against his shoulder and she relaxed, sighing.

His heart warmed. It was hard to see how she could feel safe with him, given everything she knew. But she did. The proof was right here in his arms. She still trusted him, at least enough for this. He still had that. But there was no room for sappy feelings right now. She needed someone to help her, not make a nuisance of himself.  

He tried to imagine that it was Tigris or Grandma’am–someone he loved in a simple, familial way–in his arms and it helped. A matter-of-fact attitude settled over the whole experience as he carefully navigated the narrow stairs, and carried her along the hall to her room. When they arrived without incident, he thought the trip had been a success. 

Once he set her down on the bed things got awkward again, though. She was too tired to do much. She put Tigris’ dragonfly hair clip on the bedside table for safekeeping. But unlacing her shoes and dropping them beside the bed seemed to take all she had left. After that, she just sat there, looking discontented.

“My dress is going to get all wrinkled,” she said. She seemed to consider this rather sad, but didn’t have the energy to do anything about it.

Coriolanus turned his back and extended a hand, feeling oddly like a butler. “You can give it to me,” he said, as if this was perfectly normal. “It’s okay. I won’t look.” 

There was a pause, then he heard a rustle of cloth and the dress was deposited on his waiting hand. He walked over to the closet and hung it up next to the couple of other dresses she had in there. By the time he turned back around, Lucy Gray’s modesty was protected by the bed’s blue and white quilt. She was sitting with it pulled up to her chest, watching him.

His mind helpfully provided speculative images of what she was wearing–or, rather, not wearing–under the quilt. He forced it off that path. The last thing he wanted was for her to notice him staring. She was vulnerable right now. She didn’t need him being lecherous on top of everything. 

“All right,” he said, clearing his throat, “well. Let me get the pills.” He smiled tightly and exited, wishing he didn’t have to come back and face her so soon.

In his own bedroom, he poured out enough pills for the next few days on his nightstand and took the rest of the bottle for her. He grabbed the tranquilizers from his bathroom medicine cabinet too, just in case. Circling back around through the kitchen, he fetched her a glass of water too.

Back in her room, he tried to adopt the same matter-of-fact attitude that had gotten him through carrying her. He set the glass of water on her bedside table and held out the pill bottles. Pointing to the one in his right hand, he explained: “The blue ones are for sleep.” They didn’t make the nightmares go away exactly, but she should sleep through the night and not remember them in the morning. “And the beige,” he pointed to the bottle of tranquilizers in his left hand hand, “are calming, but they’re strong. You don’t–” he struggled to find the right words, “don’t need to take anything, if you don’t want to. But the sleeping pills really help.” 

Lucy Gray put out her hands. When he passed the bottles to her, she turned them over thoughtfully. She frowned, fumbling as she tried to get the child safe cap off the sleeping pills. “Um. How do you–?”

“Oh, it’s–” he took the bottle and demonstrated, pushing down on the cap and then twisting, “like this.” He got a sleeping pill out and offered it.

She accepted it into her palm, peering down at the blue, triangular pill. She really hadn’t had much to do with modern medicine before now, had she? He wondered if this was reminding her of the lab. Had they made her swallow pills or just put things straight into her veins? He hoped the prospect of taking medication wasn’t going to set her off, like the thought of talking to a doctor had. 

“Are there any plants that help with nightmares?” he asked, equal parts curiosity and trying to distract her from any dark thoughts this might be bringing up.

She nodded. “We make a tea,” she said, “with lavender and mugwort. Got both growing out back, behind the house. The lavender’s so pretty when it flowers. And the mugwort is good for,” she patted her stomach, “sick tummies too.”  

The way she said that made him think of Maude Ivory. Kids got sick a lot, didn’t they? He vaguely remembered being young and Tigris petting his hair when his stomach was bad. And little Maude Ivory had been prone to nightmares after her cousin’s Games too. Lucy Gray must have made her a soothing cup of tea plenty of times.

When was the last time Lucy Gray had gotten to see her family? When was the last time she’d been home, in that little house with the lavender growing out back? Or in the meadow where she liked to practice her music. Once she escaped, she’d have to stay away for a long time. It was the first place they’d look for her. 

He pictured her, trying to make it after they got her out. All alone and still dealing with illness from the lab. If just this morning’s exertion was enough to bring on ‘a spell,’ how would she managed on her own out there? When would her life ever feel good again? 

“I wish I had something like that for you,” he said, referring to the herbs, but meaning all of it. He wished he could give her back everything she’d lost.

“These are okay,” she said. She appeared to resolve herself to it then, quickly washing the pill down with a gulp of water from the glass. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Now that she was settled in, he felt out of place, hovering over her. “I should go, let you sleep–” he turned and then stopped, glancing down.

Lucy Gray had grabbed his wrist. He could pull away easily, but he didn’t want to. He just looked down at her, waiting. What was she doing?

“I’ll take the compact now,” she said. “If you still want me to.” 

After all the ups and downs of the morning, he couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so he just asked: “Why?” 

“You told me the truth,” Lucy Gray said. “Finally, and I believed you. I –” she sighed. “I missed you too, Coriolanus,” she whispered, looking up at him. He felt captured by the tenderness he saw in her eyes. “Every day.” She pressed her lips together in a tight line. “But who was I missing?” She shook her head. “I didn’t know.” She gave his wrist a gentle squeeze. “I think I do now, though.”

I missed you too. Every day. 

She was repeating his words back to him, from earlier. She knew what he’d meant when he said he’d missed her voice every day. Of course she knew. He’d made it so painfully obvious. He was still in love with her. He always would be. And now she was implying that she still loved him too.

That couldn’t possibly be true. She’d loved the boy he used to be, back when she thought he was pure and good. She’d written a whole song about it, hadn’t she? But he was none of that now. He’d burned it all away to survive. And she knew. How could she love that?

“You don’t have to take it, or say things like that for me,” he said. “I’ll take care of you regardless. Don’t –” he grimaced, struggling to say it clearly without being harsh, “please don’t play games, Lucy Gray.” 

She wouldn’t be helping either of them if she tried to manipulate him like that. It wasn’t necessary to get him to look out for her. It would only make it harder for him to fight his distrustful tendencies. He just wasn’t built for being this vulnerable to someone, no matter how much his heart compelled him to bare his throat to her again and again. If she started playing with him, his mind would eat itself alive with suspicion. 

“No games,” Lucy Gray said. “If you want me to have it, I’ll take it. Keep it with me always. And I’ll remember you –” there was something deep and quiet in her expression, some understanding that seemed to give her strength, “all of you, your good and your bad.”

Her gaze was open and sincere. It had none of the theatrical edge she put on when she was playing a role. She meant it. 

Coriolanus sank down on to the edge of the bed, his legs gone weak. He stared at her, too moved to say anything. When he felt the heat of tears prickle at his eyes, he had to turn his head away to gather himself, taking several deep, calming breaths. 

She was offering so much more than he’d asked for. The most he’d hoped was that she could find a way to remember their moments of sweetness and forget the rest. But she was promising to hold all of him in her heart. 

Your good and your bad.  

It was staggering. He’d only wanted for them to share a fantasy of might-have-been up in the garden, topped off with a keepsake. Looking at it honestly, that would have required Lucy Gray to be a fantasy version of herself, too, a girl who could accept his gift without questioning him. But that wasn’t worthy of her. It wasn’t real. 

This was real, though. She’d questioned him. She’d made him answer for himself. And now she thought he’d earned a place in her heart. Except he hadn’t. He was still lying to her and he never, ever intended to stop. She didn’t know his “bad,” not really. It wouldn’t be right to accept this from her when he couldn’t give her the truth. 

He cleared his throat and turned back to face her. “If you still want it by the time you leave,” he said, reaching up to touch her hand where it gripped his wrist, “it’s yours. But forget what I said. You don’t have to keep it or remember me. Do what you like with it – sell it, if you need to. It’s all right.”

It had been stupid and selfish for him to ask her to keep something that valuable with her always. Lucy Gray was an honorable girl. If she promised to keep it, she’d do that. She’d starve rather than part with it. Hadn’t the Peacekeepers had to wrestle her to the ground to take it from her after her Games? He didn’t want to weigh her down like that. He’d rather she have food in her belly than his gift in her pocket.

“You sure?” she asked. She was so tired now that her eyes were drooping shut. She blinked rapidly, fighting it, and he felt the urge to pull her into his arms. Hold her tight, pressed close her rare heart. 

Lucy Gray might have accepted him for who he was, if only he’d told her the truth that day. He could have asked her to come to with him again. She might have said yes. They could be living another life right now, one where he could crawl into bed beside her and hold her when she was sick. Comfort her in sorrow and share in her joy too. Touch her, make her smile and moan and pull him close to her. All she’d asked for was his trust. But he’d been too scared to give her that. He could never take that back. Not the lie or everything that followed.

He hadn't been a fool to trust her, he'd been a fool to doubt. He was going to have to regret that for the rest of his life.

“I’m sure,” he said. Her grip on his wrist loosened, her fingers relaxing as she fought sleep. “Come on,” he said, “lie back.” He adjusted the pillow behind her and helped her settle down against it. Once she was lying down she looked so sweet, sleepy and peaceful. His heart clenched at the sight. “You’re safe here,” he said.

It was the truth. He would make it true, no matter who he had to fight. Even if it was himself. 

“I know,” she said, and yawned, her eyes sliding shut.

Coriolanus stayed, sitting there beside her, until her breathing evened out and he was sure she was asleep. Then he stood, meaning to leave straightaway. But he couldn’t help giving into temptation. He bent and gave her forehead a soft kiss before quietly making his way out.