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current romance. A quick defection from Peeta could cause the audience to lose sympathy for her," says Plutarch. "Especial y since they think she's pregnant with his child."
    "Agreed. So, on-screen, Gale can simply be portrayed as a fel ow rebel. Is that al right?" says Coin. I just stare at her. She repeats herself impatiently. "For Gale. Wil that be sufficient?"
    "We can always work him in as your cousin," says Fulvia.
    "We're not cousins," Gale and I say together.
    "Right, but we should probably keep that up for appearances' sake on camera," says Plutarch. "Off camera, he's al yours. Anything else?"
    I'm rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I'm in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I'm devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. "When the war is over, if we've won, Peeta wil be pardoned."
    Dead silence. I feel Gale's body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn't sure how he'd respond. Not when it involved Peeta.
    "No form of punishment wil be inflicted," I continue. A new thought occurs to me. "The same goes for the other captured tributes, Johanna and Enobaria." Frankly, I don't care about Enobaria, the vicious District 2
    tribute. In fact, I dislike her, but it seems wrong to leave her out.
    "No," says Coin flatly.
    "Yes," I shoot back. "It's not their fault you abandoned them in the arena. Who knows what the Capitol's doing to them?"
    "They'l be tried with other war criminals and treated as the tribunal sees fit," she says.
    "They'l be granted immunity!" I feel myself rising from my chair, my voice ful and resonant. "You wil personal y pledge this in front of the entire population of District Thirteen and the remainder of Twelve. Soon.
    Today. It wil be recorded for future generations. You wil hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you'l find yourself another Mockingjay!"

    safety, or you'l find yourself another Mockingjay!"
    My words hang in the air for a long moment.
    "That's her!" I hear Fulvia hiss to Plutarch. "Right there. With the costume, gunfire in the background, just a hint of smoke."
    "Yes, that's what we want," says Plutarch under his breath.
    I want to glare at them, but I feel it would be a mistake to turn my attention from Coin. I can see her tal ying the cost of my ultimatum, weighing it against my possible worth.
    "What do you say, President?" asks Plutarch. "You could issue an official pardon, given the circumstances.
    The boy...he's not even of age."
    "Al right," Coin says final y. "But you'd better perform."
    "I'l perform when you've made the announcement," I say.
    "Cal a national security assembly during Reflection today," she orders. "I'l make the announcement then. Is there anything left on your list, Katniss?"
    My paper's crumpled into a bal in my right fist. I flatten the sheet against the table and read the rickety letters. "Just one more thing. I kil Snow."
    For the first time ever, I see the hint of a smile on the president's lips. "When the time comes, I'l flip you for it."
    Maybe she's right. I certainly don't have the sole claim against Snow's life. And I think I can count on her getting the job done. "Fair enough."
    Coin's eyes have flickered to her arm, the clock. She, too, has a schedule to adhere to. "I'l leave her in your hands, then, Plutarch." She exits the room, fol owed by her team, leaving only Plutarch, Fulvia, Gale, and myself.
    "Excel ent. Excel ent." Plutarch sinks down, elbows on the table, rubbing his eyes. "You know what I miss?
    More than anything? Coffee. I ask you, would it be so unthinkable to have something to wash down the gruel and turnips?"
    "We didn't think it would be quite so rigid here," Fulvia explains to us as she massages Plutarch's shoulders. "Not in the higher