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I’d let her poke and prod at me because it seemed easier than getting into another screaming match. At least, for her part, she spoke only when instructing me to do something, like suck in my stomach or turn my head while she fixed my hair. It was an uneasy truce.

“And at last, our Sole Survivor herself will take the stage with a short message of hope and solidarity,” Julius said, flashing a bright white smile that likely contained none of his original teeth. “She’s traveled a long way to be here this evening, and I hope you’ll all give her a greeting worthy of her sacrifice.”

Oh God. My stomach heaved as Julius took my hand and led me to the podium, and I felt like I was suffocating. I stood at the podium and looked at the cameras with a stupid, wide-eyed stare. Thousands of people were watching me, and for a brief moment, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been more afraid. I had nothing of value to say to them. As a teacher, I’d found public speaking challenging but not impossible because I’d had actual knowledge to share, and that’d always been my strength.

There was a teleprompter ahead of me with words I was supposed to be reading, but I was frozen. I was terrified that I was about to be sick, live on air, and I couldn’t take a proper deep breath because I was squeezed into a corset that felt like a vise. I gave a couple silly-sounding pants, and Julius gave me a pointed stare, smiling through gritted teeth.

“Um, I—” I stammered, took another too-short breath, then tried again. “Th-thank you for being here, uh, I…”

The pressure was too much. A wave of dizziness hit me, and my vision blurred. I was suddenly unbearably hot, feeling a drop of sweat slide down my spine. All my focus was on not emptying the contents of my stomach onto the polished floor.

I thought of John, alive somewhere, probably trying to find a way to get to me. I thought of Kimmy, who was undoubtedly with him. I thought of the Valley, and everything I stood to lose if I didn’t make it through this.

And somehow, I rallied and started reading the teleprompter. I couldn’t have repeated anything I said during the short speech afterward; it was all a blur. I only remembered taking one short breath at a time, focusing only on getting through the next sentence. Polite but enthusiastic applause followed, and I let out a long sigh of relief, even though I was still deeply uncomfortable.

But I made it, I told myself, with a touch of pride. I did what I had to do.

After the speech, I was supposed to greet guests in a receiving line. As Hamilton took his spot next to me, another wave of dizziness made me clutch my arms around myself.

He frowned and said in a hushed tone, “You okay?”

“This corset is suffocating me,” I answered in a bare whisper. “Polly laced me so tight, I feel like I’m about to faint.”

I suddenly had a flicker of realization: this was probably her revenge. She probably hoped I’d fall flat on my face in front of everyone.

His lips twitched. “Why didn’t you say so? There’s a private restroom at the back. Go take it off and come back.”

“But we’re about to start,” I said, worried. “Julius won’t like it.”

“Just be quick,” Hamilton said, shooing me. “We’ll let him blame me for giving you permission.”

I wasn’t so sure, but at the same time, Julius would probably be apoplectic if I actually fainted on camera. I flashed an apologetic smile at the waiting guests and headed to the back of the ballroom, where the restroom was. Thankfully, this corset was modern and included a zipper on the front, so taking it off wasn’t an ordeal. I left the wretched thing on the floor, not caring what happened to it.

The gown I wore wasn’t as structured without it, and my silhouette wasn’t as smooth and refined. I decided not to care, even if I heard complaints later. I took a sharp intake of breath, my nerves returning as I took my place back at Hamilton’s side.

“You’re gonna be fine, Ainsley,” Hamilton murmured to me. “Just take a breath. They’re going to form the receiving line, and all you’ll have to do is stand there and smile politely.”

I’d been prepped for this earlier by Julius, who insisted on making me practice my gracious smile and polite-but-distant greetings. I was to seem almost regal, like a queen looking down her nose at her subjects. It sounded awful to me, but everything about this felt awful, so I considered it just part of surviving in this place.

Julius stood next to me and gave me a look that said he disapproved of me in some way. I braced myself, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by a soldier who, until now, had been off to the side running security for the event.

“Sire, there are protestors outside the Pyramid,” he said in a stage-whisper.

“What are they doing?” Julius asked, still looking at me angrily, as though this was my fault.

“Just holding signs and yelling, for the most part,” the soldier replied. “But you know how these things can start peaceful. Should we clear them out?”

Julius gave a haggard sigh, like his life was so unbearably difficult in his golden ballroom with his unlimited food and drink and his high-society friends. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes back into my head.

“Yes, better to do it now before things escalate,” he replied, then turned to me. “Behave yourself, Sole Survivor. I have a matter to attend to.” He left in a hurry, and I did my best to look entirely unbothered by the news, even as I worried about how exactly they were going to clear those protestors.

The next half hour was a flurry of greeting strangers and pasting a smile on my face. Some of them gave me small gifts, which felt unbearably awkward: an ornate hairbrush; a small compact of makeup; a jeweled bracelet that probably cost more credits than I’d made in a month at my teaching job.

Finally, toward the end of the line, an elderly man with white hair stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

“Welcome to the Delta, Claire Ainsley,” he said, his voice soft and warm. He wore a tweed jacket and a pocket watch, like he’d stepped out of a time machine. He reached for my hand, and when I shook it, he held on for a couple extra seconds, a kindly smile on his face. His palm was warm and dry, and he exuded a grandfatherly aura that I immediately felt charmed by.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” I replied with a smile, though this one didn’t feel fake. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your evening.”