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"If you don't get in here, you're going to miss it," Rena called out to me from the next room. I simply rolled my eyes; however, I did heed her warning and meander my way over to stand behind her.
Artemisia had also snuck into the room, finding a seat in the corner while Atticus did the opposite. He couldn't enter a room and not announce his presence.
"Well, let's see how you did," Atticus remarked, clapping his hands together. Rena had assumed the comment was about herโshe did with everything reallyโyet Atticus's eyes never left mine as he took the seat beside Artemisia.
And that's when Caesar Flickerman flashed up on the screen. He leapt into his introduction, going on for a few minutes before transitioning into the reason everyone in panem was watching, "As you know the Tributes are rated on a scale of one to twelve after three days of careful evaluation. The gamekeepers would like to evaluate..."
On the screen flashed an image of the aforementioned tributes with their scores. It was like the room held their breath as they waited for each name to be called out.
From District One: Lux, score of ten.
From District One: Halo, score of ten.
I'd expected high scores from our allies, but that didn't mean a small part of me had wished they'd monumentally screwed up. And then my own name flashed up the screen. I closed my eyes, almost as if I was willing to completely miss the moment; however, Atticus had risen and joined me at my side to clap a hand on my back. I opened my eyes and allowed a surprised chuckle to escape my lips.
From District Two: Romulus, score of eleven.
From District Two: Rena, score of ten.
Rena narrowed her eyes as she glanced over her shoulder in my direction; however, a haughty look quickly replaced her bitterness as if she didn't really care all that much. "So what'd you do to earn a score like that."
I glanced over at Atticus as if asking for approval. He simply shrugged, leaving the decision up to me. Nonchalantly, I cleared my throat and made my way across the room to take Atticus's chair. "I proved I wasn't afraid to spill blood."
"You cut a peacekeeper?" Rena asked, her eyes widened incredulously. "Do you realize how risky that is?"
"And what might the Capitol actually do about it?" I asked. "If I go into that arena and die, there's nothing they can do. And if I win, I'm goldenโuntouchable."
Artemisia was harder to read. Her jaw was set, and her eyes always looked like they were deep in thought. Always calculating, always searching for a weak point. "How deep was the cut?"
"I'd say you could live without a pinky finger," I replied, leaning back in my chair as I turned my direction back toward the television. From my peripherals, I could see that Rena's jaw had dropped.
From District Three: Xavier, score of eight.
From District Three: Electra, score of seven.
From District Four: Beckett, score of nine.
From District Four: Marlowe, score of seven.
From District Five: Edison, score of six.
From District Five: Joule, score of eight.
From District Six: Otto, score of six.
From District Six: Mercedes, score of five.
From District Seven: Kane, score of five.
From District Seven: Lilac, score of six.
From District Eight: Tucker, score of seven.
From District Eight: Webb, score of seven.
From District Nine: Harlan, score of four.
From District Nine: Juneaux, score of twelve.
Rena screamed with outrage. Anyone in the room immediately covered their ears. The other scores that followed were rushed through and overlooked.
From District Ten: Rex, score of eight.
From District Ten: Honey, score of three.
From District Eleven: Emory, score of six.
From District Eleven: Clementine, score of five.
From District Twelve: Dirk, score of three.
From District Twelve: Sage, score of four.
And as if everyone in panem hadn't heard, the screen returned to the tribute parade while circling back to District Nine's scores. They overlooked the boy, he was young and not much to focus on; however, the red-head's spirit was like fire as they'd zoomed in to view where they could look the tribute in the eyes. He hadn't seen it then, he'd overlooked the glare of defiance in her eyes and somehow she'd surpassed him. What could she have possibly done during her evaluation to receive such a high score? All week she'd remained at the survival stations, never once touching a weapon. He drew blood... he was starting to wonder whether she'd actually killed someone or proven herself a big enough threat to need a target on her back.
"This has to be a mistake," Rena insisted, then turned toward me with a venomous accusation. "You said we didn't need to worry about her. You said that the kid was her weakness and a liability."
"Well, she wasn't with the kid in her training session, now was she?" I retorted rhetorically.
Artemisia scoffed, then chuckled as she shook her head. She rose from her seat and began to leave the room; however, Atticus called out to her. "That's all you had to say?"
She slowly turned around with a look of warning. "I know Caius well. He'd tell his tributes to fall back somewhere in the middle of the pack. Now think. If that girl was hardly trying and was given a twelve, what else might she be capable of that you underestimated?"
"You're our mentor," Rena spat. "You're supposed to tell us how to win. Instead, you've hidden away in your room and only graced us with your presence during meals."
"Are you done playing pretend?" Artemisia's tone of voice took a dark turn. "Are you done pretending to be warriors? Because until you're ready to accept that you're children playing with knives, well I have nothing to offer."
"We need public favorโ"
"You need to focus," Artemisia interrupted Rena before she could continue her complaints. "You're focused on all the wrong things. You care too much about scores and appearances when once you step foot in that arena, none of it matters. You don't need sponsors to win the game when you understand how to manipulate the Capitol to work around your needs."
"How did you win the games?" I asked after a blunt moment of silence. "We're children thrust into war, but we've been training our entire lives. We were forged weapons, childhood was not a word offered to our vocabularies."
"You've been training, but not for something like this," Artemisia contradicted. "You may know how to kill, even have a bloodlust for it... but they never prepare you for the guttural screams. The sound of someone choking on their own blood. They don't prepare you for looking into the pleading eyes of fear. They don't prepare you to lose your soul."
"Then prepare us," I challenged.
Artemisia took a breath. "If given the choice between viciousness and mercy, choose the later."
Atticus scoffed. "How are they to win if they spare their competitors?"
"I didn't say spare lives," Artemisia contradicted. "You want to know how I won the games? Alright. Fine."
Artemisia walked back through the center of the room and returned to her chair. Although Atticus seemed to dislike our mentor, he was equally as intrigued. Apparently, Artemisia kept the secret to her victory close at heart.
"The public hated me," Artemisia admitted. "I may have volunteered for the games, but only because my family knew my weak points. They knew which strings to tug and which they should threaten to cut. We'd just lost everything to a bad business deal and my parents looked at the games as a chance to regain status. I didn't plan to make it easy for them."
"You haven't made things easy for us either," Rena muttered under her breath.
Artemisia ignored her. "I didn't smile, and I refused to let my stylist do anything lavish or extravagant. From the start, most mistook me for a tribute from District Twelve. At first, it was defiance... then it became a strategy. I made the public despise me for silence they presumed was weakness. For a tribute to volunteer and treat the games like a suicide... it worked in my favor. I tanked my evaluation, scoring a two."
"Didn't that draw the other tributes to you like you were a target?" I asked, knitting my brows together in confusion.
Artemisia nodded her head. "They lost me after the cornucopia though. I slit their throats that night. All four of them that had formed an alliance. One from each of the first four districts. They never saw it coming."
"And what about your nickname, Nightlock?" Rena asked, crossing her arms. "They said you never killed a tribute before the truce."
"I made it look like the other tribute from District One," Artemisia explained. "A tribute from District Five had messed with some of the electrical circuitry of the arenaโkilling themselves but shutting down the cameras for a few hours. The public was in the dark, but when they regained their sight... their favored were dead."
"So was there ever a truce?" I asked, beginning to think otherwise.
"Yes," Artemisia answered. "I called a truce when there were twelve of us left. One from each district, ironically enough."
"And how could you possibly earn their trust?" Rena asked, unconvinced.
"Because I'd proven that I could've killed each of them," Artemisia replied. Her tone was cold. "I'd held a knife to each of their throats when I'd lied that I'd found a way for each of them to win."
"And why would they believe you?" Rena continued to interrupt with questions.
"Because they still believed I was suicidal," Artemisia's answer almost came before Rena had even finished her question. "The meal wasn't much, just some of the prey the gamemakers placed in the arena to keep us alive. And then I discovered the nightlock berries. We toasted. I'd poured out everyone's glass but my ownโmine had been prepared beforehandโand suddenly I'd given the games a twist they never saw coming."
"And your family?" I asked.
"What about them?" Artemisia asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Surely they were proud of your accomplishment," I added on to my question.
Artemisia shrugged. "I'll never know. They died as I arrived at the Capitol. Apparently the bottle of wine they'd toasted over while watching the tribute parade had... soured."
And then she left, gone without another word or explanation. For a mentor, she didn't exactly hand out strategies... then again, she likely understood that we were both too full of ourselves to accept outside help. Rena thought herself above the rest, while I preferred to remain on my own to think. Tomorrow that would need to change.
Rena had claimed that she was going to spend the day walking in Artemisia's shadow until their mentor offered her something helpful. That was fine with me because she was in for the surprise of her life when I'd walk out onto that stage for our interviews. My goal was to work with Atticus on my persona. Artemisia was cunning, but Atticus had charm. Artemisia's strategy to be underestimated as a tribute from District Two had taken a lot of work, and it relied on the empathy of others.
My plan required the opposite. I'd already proven myself a threat in the arena. Now I needed to show a side that would steal the favor of the Capitol. The more resources I took from the other tributes, the quicker the games would pass.ย And if I played up the cameras, my own allies might start to underestimate how much the fame had gone to my head. I needed them to believe that my ego was even larger than Rena'sโthat I had a weak point to exploit, which I'd eventually use to reverse the situation and claim victory. Unfortunately, that meant competing for the spotlight against an unforeseen variable: the golden girl of district nine.
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๐๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ซ'๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐ญ๐๐ฌ | Okay, so I was originally only going to give Juneaux a rating of like nine. I really didn't want to be that person who puts one character above the others even though they have no combat training; however, she literally poisoned a guy... so I think she earned it. The gamemakers are simply going to assume she'd been holding back, but also she poisoned a guy without anybody noticing. The peacekeeper was mostly fine, but they didn't think it would hurt to put a target on her back. Only two more chapters before they enter the arena, and that's when all the drama really begins. As always don't forget to vote and would love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Thanks for reading!
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