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“Yes! At least there, I had a choice!”

“But did you really?”

I froze, confused. Of course, I’d had a choice. I didn't have to take on clients who I wasn’t interested in. I could’ve walked away if I wanted to.

Except… not really. I was only ever good at one thing. Sex. Whether at Quincy’s place or somewhere else, it was the only job I knew. The only job I’d ever be hired to do. No one would hire a former whore in any other job. They’d risk people recognizing me and shaming the business. It was my choice to stay, but what other option did I have?

Feigrind’s grip on me loosened, but he didn’t fully release me. He held me against him, like he knew I was conflicted and understood. Like he was offering me comfort. I hated it. I hated that he saw me as weak. But after I shoved him away and put space between us, I hated the loss of his comfort even more.

Twelve

FEIGRIND

Simon went quiet after our discussion. It wasn’t like him. Ever since he’d come clean about understanding our language, he never failed to say something to let me know how he felt about being here. I thought I’d be happy when he finally went quiet, but it bothered me. He wasn’t a quiet or submissive man. It didn’t suit him.

I decided to give Simon space to think. I trusted that he wouldn’t run by now. He’d made it clear he understood the risk and didn’t deem it worth it. He wanted me to bring him home, and because I wouldn’t do that, he wasn’t going anywhere. Most of the time, this was when I started letting tributes meet others in the clan. He understood our words, and he was no longer at risk of running. This was when he would meet someone else and move on.

But I couldn’t do it.

The thought of letting him go, of another tribute tossing me aside, was abhorrent. I couldn’t keep him; I knew this. I wasn’t what he needed. He’d said more than once that he was usedto frequent sex. He wouldn’t be happy with me if I made him celibate just so I wouldn’t be alone. But I wasn’t ready to let him go yet.

“I will be back. It is not safe to leave so?—”

“I know that!” he snapped, glaring at me. I expected more, wished for it even, but he went quiet again, pulling the furs over his head petulantly. My chest ached at the dismissal, and I ducked out to go check on Maman. The foul weather sometimes hurt her bones. I didn’t want her in pain and alone.

The rain was harsh and sharp, like ice. I was soaked by the time I ducked into Maman’s tent. She wasn’t resting like I hoped, instead playing with her clay while she hummed to herself, but she didn’t look to be in pain. She glanced up at me when I entered and shook her head with a sigh.

“You are asking for illness, son of mine. I do not need your constant hovering.”

“No,” I agreed, moving to sit by the fire. Not all tents had the space for fires so large like she had, but my father had built this tent for her so that she could always fire her pots no matter the weather. It was larger than other tents, and a pain in the ass to take down when we eventually moved on, but I liked that she could keep doing what made her happy, no matter the weather.

“Where is Simon?” she asked, her eyes sharp on me.

“I gave him time to think. He is… quiet lately.”

Her brows furrowed, pulling at the wrinkles on her face. “Do you think he will run again?”

I shook my head. “No. He says he understands the risk, and I believe him. He is angry with me, I think, for making him question his freedom at home.”

She huffed out a laugh, turning back to her work. “All tributes feel this way. He will get over it.”

True, and I’d experienced the reaction in the past, but it felt different for Simon. I thought he’d never stop fighting. It bothered me that he did.

“His reaction is not new. Yours is. Why are you making that face?”

I wiped away the emotion on my face, pulling off my tunic so that I could wring it out. I ignored the annoyed suck of her teeth when I wrung it out on the dirt floor. At least I didn’t do it over one of the carpets.

“Have you eaten yet today? I can fetch something for you,” I offered without looking at her. It was easier to mask my emotions if I didn't make eye contact. She knew me well enough to see through me.

I heard her rise, and I had no choice but to look up when she moved to stand over me. She stood with her hands in fists on her hips, her scowl as familiar to me as her smile. One day, she would stop fighting, too. It broke my heart to even consider it.

“Stop that!” she snapped. “You are being dreary. Explain yourself.”

I shook my head. “There is nothing to explain. I—Ow!”

She stopped my excuse-making by pulling my hair, which was beyond childish. I leaned away from her, rubbing at the sore spot.

“What was that for?”