Chapter Text
Death was something Artemis Plinth prepared for like she prepared for war. With that came expectations of bloodshed, tears, pain and suffering.
Which is why the surprise of her death did not lay in the fact that it happened, but in the lack of pain and suffering.
There was no blood. No screams. No pain. Nothing to link to how she knew Death.
Death was someone she knew well. A trusted friend, an ally.
She had been the loyal servant of death for several years and when he came for her, it was a wonder he spared her everything she expected of him. For she had always brought Death his victims with bloodshed and tears in their final moments.
Her Death comes in silence. Sitting across from a man with eyes as blue as the skies above. Her fingers tremble, then still. That is how she knows. Her own dark eyes find those blues, ones she knows well and trusts to a certain level. Ones she had maybe trusted too much.
She manages to push herself up from her velvet-covered chair, the stillness of her hands now spreading to her arms as she takes a step towards the one who was delivering her to Death himself.
The man with the blue eyes that often burn into her soul when he gazes upon her naked body, illuminated by the fireplace, after a long night together. Who is carved of the same wood as her.
The moment she reaches his side, the stillness finds her legs and she falls onto her knees in front of him. Silently, his fingers reach out and find her chin – pushing her face up slightly so his gaze finds hers.
“I always knew it’d be you” is the soft whisper that finds its way from her lips before the stillness takes her into its grasp and spreads to her heart and lungs.
She’s determined to look him in the eye until her sight goes – which it does just seconds later. Her lungs take a last breath of air and her heart a final thrust of blood through her veins, before she gasps and all life leaves her body.
Collapsed into the lap of the man who killed her lies Artemis Plinth, victor, mistress, manipulator, daughter – whose lifeless eyes release a final tear.
5 YEARS EARLIER
“We’re gathered today for the case of Julius Plinth, charged with fraud and embezzlement of a Capitol owned weapon factory located in District 2 – the district in which Mr. Plinth is born and raised. Multiple witnesses have come forward to testify against Mr. Plinth and several pieces of evidence have been collected to prove Mr. Plinth’s involvement in this matter”
Artemis finds herself only half listening to the charges her father faces. Her neatly cut fingernails run over the back of the court bench in front of her as her eyes wander the people gathered for the hearing.
She already knows the final verdict, everyone in the courtroom does. With the amount of witnesses and evidence, it’s harder to defend her father than to prove his guilt. Which is only fair, because he is – as a matter of fact- guilty of all crimes he is on trial for. Artemis has seen him work at his desk, witnessed him putting papers in the fireplace so he could act as though they never existed.
It’s no use pretending that all the new clothes and shoes she had received that year were bought from money that her father had made without cheating.
Her head tilts slightly as she watches the back of her father. He’s slightly hunched over and even from behind, he looks older than he is. It must be weighing on his mind to know that he faces the death penalty for his crimes against the Capitol and great nation of Panem.
Artemis doesn’t condemn his actions. He wasn’t wrong for what he did, he was just dumb to get caught. The one thing she is always told by her parents is that winning is the most important thing in life. How one wins is not relevant, as long as you come out a winner and if you have cheated your way there – just do not get caught.
Her mother pulls her hand from the court bench and shakes her from her string of thoughts about how one could win in every scenario.
Vesta Plinth is a woman of little words but when she does speak – her words cut through every surface on the face of the earth and Artemis tries her best to remember everything the woman has ever told her. Her mother is a woman of intellect, someone whose spirit is cemented in war – which is precisely why her father married her.
Her mother merely gives her a strict glare as she pushes Artemis’ hand back in her lap and that tells her more than words could.
At 16, Artemis Plinth is on top of her class at the academy for tributes – she was selected from a group of 100 preselected candidates who were allowed to try out, along with 9 others. Dark curls frame her face and fall just above her shoulders, she is in possession of dark eyes that have the ability for both sharpness and gentle gazes and though she does not have a more than average length to her – she likes to think that there is something unique about her. Whatever that may be has yet to be determined, but she has time to figure it out.
“How do you plead, Mr. Plinth?”
Artemis’ expression is as blank as her mother’s when they hear her father plead ‘not guilty’. His lawyer whispers something to him but he shakes his head.
The judge takes a moment to write something down and then turns to the members of the jury – all handpicked by the president himself and brought in from the Capitol to help decide on the case.
“We’ve been presented with the testimonies and evidence, so let us discuss the case in the glass office and gather here in an hour” the judge tells them. The Capitols jury whispers amongst themselves as they already seem to be discussing the obvious case that lays before them.
When they are dismissed and told to wait outside the courtroom until the decision has been made on her father’s fate, her mother glances at her as they get up from their seat.
“Tell your father good luck and come straight out to the hallway” she informs Artemis, who nods and makes her way over to her father – the man is in the middle of a heated discussion with his lawyer.
“I was told to wish you good luck, pa” she says when he turns to her, and she sees the forced smile on his lips that tells her he doesn’t want to appear as scared as he probably is.
If only he hadn’t been caught.
“That’s kind of you, my dear” he tells her as she offers him a smile that bears no meaning to it. “I’m sure I’ll be alright. We’ll all be having dinner tonight, I promise”
“Ma says we shouldn’t make promises we cannot keep” Artemis informs him but her father shakes his head and takes a step towards her.
“Some things I can promise you” he softly tells her as his hand squeezes her shoulder. “It’s not over yet”
All Artemis can do is offer him that same meaningless smile before she makes her way out into the hallway where she finds her mother. The woman is as hard to read as she always is and the conversation doesn’t dwell on her father.
While they wait they speak about school. About her upcoming assessments and the fact that she needs to work on her hand to hand combat skills if she wants to remain on top of her class.
Her specialty is thrown weapons, especially knives. There’s something in the weight and speed of them that she has always been pulled to.
Her mother offers to train her outside of school and she agrees because she knows better than to decline such an offer. Vesta’s father was a commander in the military during the war and raised his daughter like a soldier, so her mother did the same thing with Artemis.
When they’re called back into the courtroom, she sees something shift in her mother’s gaze when she seems to recognize someone.
Artemis’ gaze follows her mother to the figure of a tall, broad man whom she has never seen before – yet her mother seems to recognize him immediately.
“Who is that man, ma?” she softly asks her mother when they take their seats – the man is sitting up front and the way he carries himself tells Artemis that he has a military history.
Her mother, however, does not seem pleased to see him and gives her a look as she answers her daughter’s question.
“That is Strabo Plinth, your uncle”
Strabo Plinth- that is a name that has never been mentioned in a kind voice.
He’s her father’s older and only brother. Him, his wife and their late son Sejanus moved to the Capitol after the war. Uncle Strabo had made a fortune during the war and managed to buy his way up – something that was not appreciated by anyone in 2, least of all by her parents.
Her father always told her that it was a selfish and ridiculous thing to buy your way up to the Capitol, but Artemis always felt a bit of jealousy behind it – because her father never managed that type of fortune for himself.
As everyone settles into their seats and the judge starts his endless speech, Artemis studies the man. His face is made of stone as any in her family is, and it’s impossible to read him. He looks like her father, with the same eyes and lack of hair – but several years older.
“As stated earlier, there is a price set for bail that covers the costs of what have been lost in this fraud and embezzlement case – which Mr. Plinth previously stated is above what he is willing to pay” the judge starts.
Above what he is able to pay, Artemis corrects him in her head. They’re well off, the top few percent of their district even, but this amount of money is something that her father wouldn’t be able to pay even if he sold their home and all their belongings.
“There is, however, a generous donation that has been bestowed upon us in the name of Mr. Julius Plinth, which provides the set amount of money needed for his bail. The donation has been granted by Mr. Plinth’s brother – Mr. Strabo Plinth”
That explains why her uncle is there.
Artemis’ blood boils and she hears her mother softly gasp beside her.
The court is dismissed and her father free of all charges.
Artemis isn’t pleased. Not at all. A true soldier faces the consequences for their own actions and solves it themselves – without the help of others. Yet her father accepted the help of the one person he swore he’d never speak of again – the person who was dead to their side of the family.
Her hands clutch to fists as she gets up from her seat and makes her way over to her father. There’s a short moment where her uncle shakes her father’s hand and makes eye contact with her – her own glare as deadly as the one her mother gives him.
“Thank you brother, truly” she hears her father say to his brother as the two of them shake hands. Uncle Strabo nods with a smile.
“It’s no trouble, I’m glad to be of help and I hope this will bury the hatchet between both our families” uncle Strabo tells him and then gazes at Artemis and her mother when they join them. “And this must be your daughter”
“Yes, yes she is” her father tells him with a relieved smile. “Artemis, you remember the stories of your uncle Strabo?”
Artemis, recognizing that this isn’t the moment for sharp comments, sends her uncle a charming smile as she offers him her hand and he shakes it with the strength of a trained solider. “Of course I do. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, uncle”
Uncle Strabo seems content with the strength she puts in her handshake and gives her a nod before looking at her father. “Polite and strong, you’ve done well”
Her father nods and then glances at his wife, who seems less than pleased with the reunion “and you remember my wife, Vesta?”
“Of course, how could anyone forget a woman like her?” uncle Strabo shakes the hand that is reluctantly offered to him by her mother, earning him a sour smile that is wrapped in a pretty package.
“We should make our way back home before dinner” her mother tells her father, refusing to speak a word to the man who just bought out her husband.
Her father nods “we should, would you care to join us for dinner, brother?”
Artemis knows her mother is furious about the question and thankfully, her uncle declines – informing them that he has to catch the train back to the Capitol in an hour.
Back to the Capitol.
She’d never say it out loud – not with her parents hatred for their ‘traitor’ side of the family – but she envies the man. Living in the Capitol with more money that she knows how to spend, sounds like a wonderful life. Like a life she craves.
She’s a girl born with the need for greatness and admiration in her veins. It runs through her like oxygen and feels like something she cannot live without.
Once they get home, Artemis finds her voice in the anger she feels for her father and everything that happened those hours before.
Especially when her father is suddenly all words of praise about her uncle.
“It’s a miracle that he came to my rescue. Apparently he heard it from a close family friend and he contacted me about it two days ago” Julius Plinth tells his wife and daughter as they make their way into the living room.
“I find it amusing that you’ve told me time and time again that they are traitors who packed up for the Capitol and deserted us – that uncle Strabo and his family are dead to us – yet now you let him buy you out?!” Artemis can no longer contain her anger.
Her father turns to her, grimaced face and all “I did not have any other choice Artemis, my life was on the line. If I had been found guilty, I’d be hanged”
“Then perhaps that was the correct punishment for the fact that you got caught” she tells him. “I’m taught that we’re a family forged in war, that we take on the consequences of our actions if we make a mistake – and yet you did not face any at all!”
“I’ll warn you not to use that tone with me” her father’s strict voice booms through the dining room but she doesn’t flinch. Not this time.
Artemis finds her father’s gaze, his eyes narrowed as he takes a step towards her. “And are we to be kind to them now? Are we to dine with them in the Capitol and tell them how much better their life is compared to ours?!”
“Artemis, I am warning you-“
“Am I to lay roses on the grave of their son, whom you’ve spoken so poorly of over the past decade, and tell them that I wish he was still around?!”
Her father’s hand strikes her before she can respond. Her cheek will bruise because of it but Artemis doesn’t mind. She isn’t afraid of facing the consequences of her actions, unlike the man who laid his hand on her.
“Artemis” her mother’s voice is strict and unforgiving. Her tone betrays the fact that she sides with her father on this matter and not with her.
It takes her everything not to lash out at her mother but she takes a deep breath and glances between her parents. Her mother isn’t happy with her father’s behaviour but will always take his side over hers. After all, she is but a child to her mother and he is her husband. He’s the one person she is supposed to side with in arguments and that is just what she does now.
“I’ll be having dinner in my room” she tells them but her mother stops her before she can walk out.
“You’ll have dinner with us, in the dining room, without complaint, or no dinner at all” she tells her strictly, hoping it will pull her daughter back to her unfazed self.
But Artemis is relentless and gives her mother a stone-cold glare “then I shall go hungry for the evening”
And with that, she makes her way upstairs.
It takes her everything not to scream into her pillow out of frustration, but she keeps it together. She is raised to be in control of her emotions at all times and even when she is by herself, she upholds that rule.
With a sigh, she sits down in front of her vanity, facing the mirror on top of it and finding that she looks rather unbecoming when she allows her anger to show. The scowl on her face and the frown make for a very unattractive picture.
She is set on being presentable at all times and pulls her face back to a neutral stance before practicing some expressions that tell the person who is subjected to them that she is beyond furious – but silently so. A glare that means death is better than the ferocious anger she displayed earlier.
She is a Plinth after all. They never give in, never lose and never fall.
In the weeks leading up to the reaping of the 25th Hunger Games, a special announcement is made that turns the academy for tributes upside down.
The seniors have been training for the final assessment for months, all of them eager to be selected as the student who will be allowed to volunteer. It’s the one thing that they train for, but only one girl and one boy are selected from the senior class every year.
The academy is the work of the first victor from District 2 to have ever won the games: Italus Grant. He won the 9th Hunger Games back when viewing wasn’t mandatory. When the games were renewed and made into quite the show, Italus was the one who – along with the first victor from District 1 – pitched the idea of a special academy to the high council of the district.
Technically, training for the games is illegal but there’s a lot of money that goes around the academies in 1 and 2, and Artemis knows for a fact that most of it goes to the Capitol.
The academy for tributes has been around since the 12th Hunger Games and from the day it was created, her parents have pushed and trained her to be one of the chosen ones for the academy.
They accept 10 students for the freshman class each year, after a rigorous amount of tests and challenges. Only the strongest, quickest and smartest are granted an invitation to join the freshman class. From there on out they train from the age of 14 until they reach the senior class at the age of 18 – which is when they take the final assessment and that determines who will be granted the honor of volunteering for the games.
Everyone wants to be the chosen one – and Artemis knows that she makes a decent chance at being selected once she is in the senior class.
No one, however, expects the twist that the 25th Hunger Games takes just weeks before the reaping.
There’s an announcement made by the president, mandatory for all the country to watch.
On that great day of change, Artemis is seated on the far end of the sofa, her mother on the other end and her father in his arm chair as they watch the president make an appearance on the television.
He looks as poised as he always does, 33 years of age and president for 10 of those. It’s a miracle how he managed to get elected that young but Artemis can see what everyone saw in him. The man’s a beacon of strength and statute, in her eyes.
“Dear citizens of Panem” he starts the speech that he half reads from the card he is holding in his hands, his voice strong and full without being unnecessarily loud. His wife, Livia, sitting behind him – watching him as intently as she always does whenever she appears alongside him.
“As it was written when the Hunger Games were created, there would be a quarter quell every 25 years. This serves as a reminder of those who lost their lives in the uprising against the Capitol” Artemis leans in slightly, her elbow resting on her knee as she leans her chin on the palm of her hand.
The president takes a momentary pause and then continues. “This first quarter quell has been carefully selected to remind the districts of their responsibility in the deaths of countless children during the rebellion”
Artemis searches every corner of her mind to try and figure out what this means before the president reads the card out loud.
She cannot put two and two together exactly, but the president puts her out of her misery by telling the country just what this cryptic message entails.
“And so it has been decided that for the 25th Hunger Games, all tributes must be voted into the games by citizens of their own district. Volunteers won’t be allowed and all votes will be collected on July 3rd, the day before the reaping”
Artemis feels her heart skip a beat and her eyes find her parents, who seem unfazed by the words their president just spoke. Perhaps they do not yet realize the weight this carries.
Voting means that anyone stands a change to go into the games and for those that will be voted in as tributes, it can mean one of two things.
One: your district voted you in because you have the best chance at winning.
Two: your district voted you in because they have a bone to pick with your family.
And Artemis knows that the second is a very, very dangerous one.
Her father’s trial wasn’t well received amongst the citizens of District 2. They’re already a bit of an outcast because of the reputation her uncle left them with when he packed up for the Capitol and left – but the trial and the fact that her father paid his way out of it… Let’s say it left a very sour taste in everyone’s mouth.
Artemis never had many friends – she preferred the term acquaintances, since that was how she saw most people she was friendly with – but her social life at the academy hadn’t improved after her father’s trial.
Still, she kept her head high and didn’t speak of it with her parents. She only let the fear of being voted in come to her when she was lying in bed – late at night when no one could hear or see her.
Fear was an emotion she despised. Not because it pulled on her stomach or made her capable of decisions that she usually would not make – but because she didn’t know how to use it to her advantage. Not when it was consuming her.
Though perhaps she might learn that in the long run of things.
The day of the reaping promises nothing special to Artemis Plinth. The academy has selected two seniors that have been promoted by the district as the two tributes to vote for.
It’s a relief to know that she won’t be going into the arena before her time, before she is selected properly and deemed adequate enough to stand a chance at winning.
The crowds of people that gather for the reaping of the District 2 tributes is larger than usual, which is surprising considering this reaping is selected beforehand. Most people already know who is going into the arena, but apparently everyone still want to witness the moment where the two tributes – voted in by her district – are called onto the podium to defend the honor of their district and win the Hunger Games.
Artemis finds her way into the crowd of 16 year old girls that are eligible for the reaping, just before they start.
A woman with bright red hair and an outfit that is unmistakably Capitol – skintight snake printed suit – steps onto the stage, towards the microphone.
Odd, since the mayor is usually the one in charge of the reaping.
She introduces herself as Harmony Wilts and apparently she is the very first and proud escort of the tributes from District 2. She explains in short that the Capitol plans on making this the most spectacular Hunger Games yet, considering it’s a quarter quell, and that the tributes will have an escort from the Capitol assigned to them to guide them through the week leading up to the games.
Artemis listens as her eyes find the two bowls on each side of the podium. Each with only one white slip in them. The male and female tribute who have been voted in by the district.
Which should mean that the names that Harmony is about to read are Evander and Clementine.
Harmony takes her time with introductions, the showing of the film that they do every year, and eventually makes her way over to the bowl that carries the one name of the voted male tribute.
“Evander Kent”
The crowd applauds as Evander takes the stage, tall and strong – already counting himself a victor as he raises his hand in the air and waves at the crowd with a bright smile.
Harmony seems pleased with the enthusiastic response from her first tribute and moves onto the bowl with the name of the voted female tribute – obviously hoping for another response as this.
Her fingers fold open the piece of paper and calls out a name that shocks the crowds as much as the tribute.
“Artemis Plinth”
Silence is all there is to hear first, then a slow wave of applause but everyone knows that she isn’t voted in because she is the strongest or most likely to win.
Absolutely mortified – that is how she feels as she makes her way towards the podium. Her face is void of emotion but her heart is speeding up and her palms are sweating.
“Is it any wonder after what her father did?” she hears a boy mumble to one of his friends as she passes them.
It feels surreal and like the mistake could be announced at any moment, that someone else was supposed to be voted into the games. But the announcement never comes and Evander seems a little amused to see her walk up on the podium.
She glances out over the large crowd of people. Her people. Or at least, they used to be. Now the majority of them has voted her into the Hunger Games in hopes of punishing her father with her death.
It takes her a few deep breaths to decide that winning is the only option. The ultimate revenge on those who have voted her in will be to win and take home the prize that is rewarded to each victor since the 11th games.
A life of wealth, of prosperity, one where visits to the Capitol were allowed and it would almost be like she could be one of them.
Harmony’s speech concludes with the phrase that everyone knows by heart.
“May the odds be ever in your favor”
A painful reminder that the odds aren’t in your favor when your district votes you into the Hunger Games as a means of revenge against your father. Evander is chosen for honor, for the true purpose of winning for the district – she is chosen because the district wants her dead. Simple as that.
Which is exactly why she lashes out to her father the second he enters the room where she is allowed to say goodbye to her family.
“You did this to me!” she tells him, unable to hide the anger that radiates off her. However unbecoming she may look, she needs to let it out or it’ll be buried inside until she explodes. “My own district voted me into the games because you couldn’t face the consequences of your own fucking actions!”
Her mother grabs her chin in an iron grip immediately, forcing her tear-filled eyes to look at her instead of at her father.
“I won’t have you use such language or tone against your father – you may not like the outcome of the reaping but there is no need for dramatics” her strict tone freezes her anger and melts it into a puddle of destruction.
“I’m not ready” she tells her mother “I have another year to go”
“Your time comes when it does, my child” Vesta Plinth tells her, grip still tight on her daughter’s chin. “You’re a Plinth, so act accordingly. Never give in, never lose-“
“Never fall” Artemis concludes, finishing her mother’s words that have been drilled into her since she was a child.
“Exactly” Vesta lets go of her daughter’s chin with a nod “you come home a winner or not at all. Your father and I raised you a victor, and that is what you’ll become”
There’s no question about it, no doubt that there is any other fate in store for her than winning the Hunger Games – regardless of who she is up against.
“I do not want to see those tears again” her mother tells her “not on television and not when you return to us”
“Strong and steady” Artemis tells her mother with a nod and her father steps towards her, feeling that it might be alright to approach her now that she has calmed down.
“There’s nothing more important in this life than to win, Artemis” he tells her, his tone softer than her mother’s but still drenched in authority. “You’re a Plinth. We have war in our bones and so do you. Find it, channel it, use it”
A family forged in war was the perfect way to describe them and her dark eyes find her father only to give him a confident nod and push aside and fear that tries to nestle in her heart. Fear isn’t something useful for her now, so she might as well not feel it.
“I’ll win” she tells them “a victor you’ve raised and a victor I’ll become”
“Good” her father tells her “that’s how we like to hear it”
They say their goodbyes after that. There are no embraces and no genuine smiles. A pat on the shoulder from her father and a nod from her mother, stern smiles on their lips as they watch her make her way to the train.
Artemis finds herself in a need to get her breathing under control as she gets on board. Her heart beats faster than she’d like it and there’s an uncertainty in the back of her mind that is making her unfairly doubtful.
Harmony is on her immediately and takes her into the compartment that serves as a lounge of sorts. Evander is nestled in one of the chairs by the window and there’s a cart with some refreshments in the corner – which is where she spots Italus Grant himself. He’s been the mentor of the tributes from 2 since district-chosen mentors became a thing.
The mentors are always victors from their own district and should there not be any victors, the Capitol University selects a student to be a mentor. Over the years, less and less University mentors have been around – but there are still some districts without any victors.
Some even have male and female victors – which is the best possible option. That means that both tributes have their own mentor but the ones that have victors of only one sex, get assigned only one mentor for two tributes.
Which is why Artemis and Evander are stuck sharing one mentor. District 2 has 4 victors, but all of them are male.
Should she win, she’d be the first female victor for her district – and that thought chases away any fear. Such honor would be something that she has dreamed of since she was a young girl.
Artemis weighs her options for a moment as she decides on who to go for first – her mentor or her district partner.
She goes with the latter when Harmony strikes up a conversation with Italus.
“That must’ve been a shock” Evander tells her when she sits down across from him. Her eyebrows shoot up slightly and he immediately clarifies. “I know you weren’t counting on being voted in… even I thought Clementine would be voted in alongside me”
Artemis offers him a sweet smile, the one she saves for people she dislikes but wants something from. In this case, she needs him on her side for the games. Of all the previous games she has seen, those who last longest are those who stick with an ally.
“I was shocked, to say the least” she tells him “but there’s nothing to change about it now… at least three years of the academy have prepared me for more than most of the other tributes”
Evander nods and seems to consider that she is not as useless as she might have seemed at first, considering she isn’t a senior yet. “What are your skills?”
“Knives are my specialty, but any thrown weapon is useful to me” she truthfully answers his question. He was going to find out anyways and the best liars stay as close to the truth as possible. “What about you?” she settles back in her seat, appearing more relaxed than she is.
“Hand to hand combat and swords” is his answer. She had expected as much, considering he is about twice as broad as she is. He’ll be useful, considering she isn’t the best at hand to hand combat herself.
Evander’s eyes scan her for a moment. It’s quick, but she catches it effortlessly. He seems to approve of what he sees and her instincts immediately play with that. She leans into the armrest slightly and tilts her head as she offers him a sweet smile.
“Tell me, what sort of wonderous advice do they give to the senior who is selected to be a tribute?” she purrs sweetly. Her fingers play with the long necklace that she wears around her neck. She catches his gaze drifting to her fingers for a moment, then up to her chest, and then back to her eyes.
Evander’s grin is charming and she can see why he is popular in school – she’s heard about him in the hallways countless times. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You might use that sort of thing against me”
Artemis chuckles in response “perhaps. But I’d be foolish not to want you on my side”
Her district partner seems to think it over for a moment as he leans back in his seat and places his hand on his knee “and just how would you be useful for me in the arena?”
“Oh that’s easy” she sweetly replies as she leans in slightly “I’m the one with the best stamina in my class, I’m the quickest and I am excellent company – not to mention that I am fantastic at wielding weapons”
Evander nods as he runs his fingers over his chin. One thing about him is that he is easy to read. He may be one excellent fighter, but his eyes give away his intentions before he speaks a word or makes a move. And that is what makes him an easy prey.
‘Tell you what” she softly suggests, her hand reaching out to pat his knee. “I’m not going to twist your arm to be my ally, I’m not one to force boys to be with me. I’ll let you come willingly. And when you do, I’m convinced our alliance could be very… productive”
Her words hit something in Evander, whose eyes glance over her again as her fingers slowly slide from his knee and she sits back in her seat.
All she had to do is play the one card that most men are sensitive to and it wasn’t hard to get him where she wants him.
“I’ll think about it” are the words he speaks but his eyes tell her that he has already made up his mind about an alliance with her. He’s eating from the palm of her hand and if she plays this the right way – it’ll stay like that until she comes out the victor of the 25th Hunger Games.