“Maybe it won’t happen,” I said uncertainly. “Maybe he’ll wake up.”
When Greyson looked at me, his eyes were rimmed with red and he wore a twisted mockery of a smile. “I’m not that lucky.”
I didn’t know what to say. The silence built up around us, and finally Greyson sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“My mother and brother were killed by the Blackcoats,” he said. “I knew it was only a matter of time before they came for me and my father. I was hoping I’d be first, though.”
“No one should hope for that kind of thing,” I said quietly.
He shook his head. “I should have died with them anyway. The four of us were supposed to go to the theater for a performance, but I didn’t…” He paused. “Something came up with China, and my father wanted Jameson to stay behind and help. He refused, though, and not even my father could make him do something he didn’t want to. So I stayed instead. We were supposed to be right behind them, no more than a few minutes late, except—”
He stopped. The seconds ticked by, and I wanted to comfort him, but I had no idea how. None of my friends in the group home had parents or siblings to lose. Family was almost a dirty word, since they’d been the ones to give us away to begin with. But the devastated look on Greyson’s face made it clear how much he’d loved his.
“There was a bomb planted in the car,” he said. “The officials who investigated the case, they said whoever put it there probably didn’t realize my mother and brother would be in it. It was my father’s car, and he used it to drive all over town. We always used a separate one, but because it was supposed to be all four of us…”
His voice broke, and I studied the floor to avoid looking at him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”
“Of course you can. You know exactly what it’s like to lose a parent.”
I had no idea what had happened to Lila’s father, who must have died when I was very young. I couldn’t even remember any article Benjy read ever mentioning Celia being married. I’d seen the pictures on her wall of the three of them, though, so they must have been happy once. And now Celia was the only one left.
Greyson watched me, and I squirmed underneath the intensity of his stare. “It was a public execution,” he said. “My father accused him of treason, claiming he had planned to kill us so Celia could become prime minister.
You were seven years old, and my father made you and Celia watch. Death by firing squad. You screamed—”
Greyson winced as if he could still hear it. “Celia had to hold on to you so you wouldn’t get in the way. She covered your eyes, but you still heard it. After that, you sneaked into my room almost every night and slept at the foot of my bed. Said you could hear the guns going off when you tried to sleep by yourself. When the servants found out, they had another mattress moved into my bedroom for you.”
I shivered. No wonder Lila had hated Daxton so much.
Being forced to watch her father’s execution—I didn’t need to know what having a father felt like in order to imagine it. If Daxton had done that to me, I would have strangled him with my bare hands. Though he had in a way, hadn’t he? By murdering Nina in front of me. I’d wanted to kill him then, and if he hadn’t cuffed me to the railing, I would have.
Lila was smart enough to know that it wouldn’t have changed anything, though. Even if the title was passed down to Greyson, Augusta still ruled, and Greyson would have been risking his own life to go against whatever she said. Before Daxton died, there had to be a plan in place to stop her. But Celia, sick with desire for revenge, hadn’t thought it through. She’d only seen an opportunity and taken it.
“The night you got here was the first time in ten years that Lila was in Somerset and didn’t sneak into my room,” said Greyson. “I thought I’d done something to make you mad, but everything you say, the way you talk to me and look at me—it’s all wrong. You look like her, but you’re not her, are you?” He swallowed. “They Masked you, didn’t they?”
Augusta’s warning echoed through my mind, but there was no hiding it now. If he knew, there was nothing I could do to convince him I was her. So I nodded.
“Please don’t tell Augusta you know,” I whispered.
“She’ll kill me.”
“So will my father.” Greyson grimaced as he looked at Daxton’s still form between us. “Is that what happened to Lila? Did they—did they kill her?”
“They did,” I said gently. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say anything for several minutes. My hand twitched as the desire to take his overwhelmed me, but I resisted. The last thing he probably wanted was for me, some screwed-up version of his best friend, to touch him.
Instead I focused on the rise and fall of Daxton’s chest, wishing with everything I had that it would stop.
“Celia did this to him,” said Greyson suddenly, breaking the silence. I opened my mouth to protest, but he kept going. “Don’t bother denying it. I know my own family, no matter how many secrets they try to keep from me. I understand why she did it, too. If I’d had any idea they killed Lila…” He paused again, and at last he looked me in the eye. “How long have you been her?”
“About a month. Daxton bought me at a club on my seventeenth birthday. I was a III.” I searched his face for any sign of shock or disgust, but his expression was blank, and he held my stare without flinching. “He of- fered me a VII for helping him out, and he didn’t say how, but—he’s the prime minister. I couldn’t say no.” I tugged on a lock of Lila’s hair. “They took me to a car and knocked me out. When I woke up, I looked like Lila. I had no idea it was going to happen until it was already over.”
“That sounds like him,” said Greyson. “Who else knows?”
“Celia,” I said. “Knox. Augusta.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “So everyone. And none of them thought I should know that my best friend was dead.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but Augusta…”
He rubbed his eyes. “I know. You’re the last person who should apologize, and I’m sorry they put you through this. No one deserves to lose their identity like that. What’s your name?”