The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (The Hunger Games, #0)

by Suzanne Collins

Because he cared about her. Because he cared about her? Or because he wanted her to win the Hunger Games so that he could secure the Plinth Prize? If it was the latter, he had cheated to win, and that was that.

No, thought Coriolanus. I’m poor and powerless.

Let me help, Lucy Gray. Or at least let me see that you’re all right, he thought. Then added, I miss you.

Without her, he’d be headed into the future all alone.

If the Snow fortress was about to fall, he would need friends.

And so their friendship was shakily renewed.

Something tugged at his heart, and the memory

but the point was, he got to keep her. And he wanted to keep her. Safe and close at hand. Admired and admiring. Devoted. And entirely, unequivocally his. If what she’d said just before she kissed him — “The only boy my heart has a sweet spot for now is you” — was true, then wouldn’t she want that, too?

Coriolanus sat frozen in anticipation. Was that it? Had he really won? The Hunger Games? The Plinth Prize? The girl? He studied Lucy Gray’s face as she watched Reaper from the stands, but she had a distant look, as if she were far away from the action in the arena.

as if she were putting children to bed.

He’d won glory, and a future, and maybe love, too. Any minute now, he’d have Lucy Gray in his arms.

There, arranged on the table like lab specimens, were three items: an Academy napkin stained with grape punch, his mother’s silver compact, and a dingy white handkerchief.

as agreed, Coriolanus headed directly to the Recruitment Center, where he became Panem’s newest, if not shiniest, Peacekeeper.

“Do you hear that, Coriolanus? It’s the sound of Snow falling.”

“Remember, Coriolanus, that wherever you go, you will always be a Snow. No one can ever take that from you.”

“I’ll try to one day be worthy of it.”

“You were set up to fail,” said Tigris. “The Hunger Games are an unnatural, vicious punishment. How could a good person like you be expected to go along with them?”

“I’ve left you with everything to deal with. The apartment, the taxes, the Grandma’am. I’m so sorry. If you never forgive me, I’ll understand.” “Nothing to forgive,”

To erase the Games would be to erase Lucy Gray as well.

“For what? Falling in love? I think more people pity you. A lot of romantics among our teachers, come to find out,” said Sejanus. “And Lucy Gray made quite a good impression.”

“The Hunger Games are a reminder of what monsters we are and how we need the Capitol to keep us from chaos.”

His girl. His love. His Lucy Gray.

After all the weeks of fear and yearning and uncertainty, he would wrap her in his arms and never let her go.

A few weeks ago he was a schoolboy, but now he had the uniform, the weapon, the status of a man. And even the lowest-ranking Peacekeeper had power conveyed on him by his association with the Capitol.

Name’s Arlo Something-or-other. Still tracking down some of the others, although I don’t know where they plan on running. Nowhere to run. Okay, everybody out!”

black bird, slightly larger than the jabberjays, suddenly opened its wings to reveal two patches of dazzling white as it lifted its beak in song. Coriolanus felt sure he’d spotted his first mockingjay, and he disliked the thing on sight.

That could be a problem. Jealousy pricked his heart. But no. She was his girl, wasn’t she?

Coriolanus didn’t care for it; the sound unsettled him. He sat through at least three songs of this kind before he realized it reminded him of the mockingjays.

. . . the irony of which was not lost on the audience. The Capitol had tried to take everything from Lucy Gray, and it had utterly failed.

That’s me, Coriolanus wanted to tell people around him. I’m her true love. And I saved her life.

It confirmed that Lucy Gray belonged to him.

Maybe he was not cut out to be a lover. Maybe he was more of a loner at heart. Coriolanus Snow, more loner than lover.

He’d never been motivated by love or ambition, only a desire to get his prize and a nice, quiet bureaucratic job pushing papers around and leaving him plenty of time to attend tea parties.

As a rule, she mystified him, and he welcomed the chance to observe her without her usual defenses in place.

“Sorry. Still got one foot in the arena.”

“You found me,” she said. In District 12? In Panem? In the world itself? Never mind, it didn’t matter. “You knew I would.” “Hoped you would. Didn’t know. The odds didn’t seem in my favor.”

“So, Coriolanus Snow, what are you doing in my meadow?” What, indeed? “Just spending some time with my girl,” he answered.

“Yes,” he said. “You covered beautifully for me on that one.”

“Well, that’s it, then. I saved you from the fire, and you saved me from the snakes. We’re responsible for each other’s lives now.” “Are we?” he asked. “Sure,” she said. “You’re mine and I’m yours. It’s written in the stars.”

“No escaping that.” He leaned over and kissed her, flushed with happiness, because although he did not believe in celestial writings, she did, and that...

Why would evil incarnate help his girlfriend? Respect? Pity? Guilt? Morphling-induced whimsy?

don’t have to deal with all my baggage.” “It’s in the stars, I guess,” Coriolanus said with a smile. It was time anyway that he confronted Billy Taupe and laid down a few rules.

accept that Lucy Gray was no longer his, but belonged firmly, and for always, to Coriolanus.

brought to his own life. He yanked his arm free. “They lost the war. A war they started. They took that risk. This is the price they pay.”

course, there were other things you could buy. Like information, and access, and silence. There were bribes. There was power.

it. But this was a bald-faced lie, delivered as naturally as the truth. Which meant that now anything he said was suspect.

So supportive. So duplicitous. So self-destructive. Like a moth to a flame.

He felt trapped here on base, while she could freely roam the night. In some ways, it had been better to have her locked up in the Capitol, where he always had a general idea of what she was doing.

At least they’d both had public failures.

A major public failure. Coriolanus felt more comfortable. He’d only embarrassed himself in the Hunger Games, not a nationwide