She despised Snow. She knew it the moment she’d met the man. He reeked of rose… A smell that used to remind her of Prim. Her little Primrose. No longer. Not in her hot, sticky, feathery dress. Not in this stupid mansion.

Snow hadn’t allowed her and Peeta to live. Of course he hadn’t. Not much of a tyrant if he didn’t kill people. Peeta had died. Katniss grieved on camera for the people, and then Snow married her off to this prick.

Their wedding was huge and flashy and reeked of rose. She hated the Capitol. And now she’d have to marry one of its products. She hadn’t met them until today, and she’d run from the reception once she realized her mother and sister weren’t there. And she’d been waiting for hours in her bedroom. Their bedroom, she corrected herself. Snow had people watching in case she tried anything. So that meant shared bedrooms… Fake love. She’s already vomited once tonight at the thought of what would happen once her marriage partner entered the room.

She was curled up in the uncomfortable scratchy dress when the door clicked open. She darted to her feet like she’d been alert the entire time.