He’d drawn two stick figures standing on a beach, with waves and a sand castle nearby. Their little fingers were interlocked, and between them was a sideways figure eight—the symbol for eternity.

“Love you, too,” I whispered. I refolded the note and tucked it safely in my pocket. As long as we were both alive, I had to believe that everything would be okay.

Celia awoke shortly after midnight, just long enough for me to tell her Daxton was still alive. She was furious, but as each day passed and he remained in a coma,

I breathed a little easier as it seemed less and less likely that he would regain consciousness.

Greyson spent hours every day at the impostor’s bedside, and when Celia demanded I leave her alone, I stayed with him. Augusta was so busy running the country in Daxton’s place that I was all but forgotten in the aftermath. That was exactly how I wanted it.

“You’re lucky,” said Greyson two days into his bedside vigil. We barely spoke, and even when we did, I was usually the one doing the talking, chatting about anything other than the V-shaped ridges I knew lay on the back of that man’s neck. Getting Greyson to speak to me was about as effective as moving the walls with my bare hands, though, so when he did, I looked at him, surprised.

“How?” I said.

“You don’t have to rule if you don’t want to,” he said.

“My father—I know he isn’t the god he wants the world to think he is. I know he’s not perfect, and I’ve seen the things he’s done just like everyone else in this family. But he’s still my father.” He hesitated, and I had to bite my tongue to stay silent. “If I tell you something, will you promise to never tell anyone?”

“I can keep a secret.” If only he knew just how well.

Greyson ducked his head. “I don’t want to be the prime minister,” he said so quietly that I had to strain to hear him. “It was always supposed to be my brother, not me.

He’s the one who trained for it, and as horrible as it sounds, the worst part about this is now there’s no one standing between me and that title. It’ll be me next, and Grandmother would rather choke on acid than let Celia have it instead of me.”

“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?”

My name. It was such a small thing, but I’d thought no one would ever ask me again. “Kitty. My name’s Kitty.”

Greyson offered me a watery smile. “Kitty. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Greyson.” He stuck out his hand, and I took it. His grip was warm and firm. “Friends?”

Another thing I thought I’d never have again. I smiled back, and for a few precious seconds I allowed myself to push my nagging worries aside. Even if I was dead tomorrow, at least I would have this.

“Yeah,” I said. “Friends.”

* * *

After nearly a week in the infirmary, Celia was finally released. That night, someone knocked on the door, and I opened it, expecting to see Greyson. Ever since our conversation over Daxton’s bedside, we’d been spending more and more time together. We played card games and chess to pass the time, ate our meals separate from Augusta, and he told me everything he knew about Lila, things even Celia hadn’t known.

“She talked about running away all the time,” he said.

“That’s why I made her that necklace. She felt trapped here, and I thought if she had a way out, maybe…maybe she wouldn’t leave me.”

“I can’t imagine her wanting to leave you,” I said, and it was the truth. I’d never met anyone like Greyson. Even though darkness permeated every corner of Somerset, he made me smile. He was no Benjy and I was no Lila, but he seemed to need a friend as badly as I did.

When I opened the door, however, Celia stared back at me, not Greyson. She was pale and unsteady on her feet, and I stepped aside to let her in, not wanting her to collapse in the doorway. She made her way slowly to the sofa and sat down with none of her usual grace.

Her dark hair was lank and dirty, and the circles under her eyes made her look like she hadn’t slept in days. Considering all she’d been doing was resting, I had no idea how she could still look so tired. The poison, I assumed.

Maybe this was what it did to someone who survived.

“I hear you and Greyson have been talking,” she said.

Her voice was hoarse.

“Yeah.” I tried to keep the wariness out of my tone.

“He’s nice.”

“You’re lucky my mother’s been too busy to notice.”

Celia stretched out across the couch and closed her eyes, leaving me no place to sit beside her. Instead I perched on the edge of an armchair and nervously picked at my nails.

As the seconds passed and she said nothing, I scowled.

“What do you want?”

Celia cracked open an eye. “World peace. A hot bath.

My real daughter and not a spineless replacement. You didn’t give him the full dose, did you?”

“I didn’t have time,” I lied. “The guards were coming, and Daxton was struggling. It was a miracle I got that much in him.”

“So you say,” she said mildly. “My fault for trusting you with it. If Daxton ever wakes up, I won’t make that mistake again.”

Infuriated, I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails cut into my palms. Any chance she had of finding out about Daxton from me vanished. “Did you just come here to insult me, or was there a point?”

“Of course there’s a point.” With a groan, Celia sat up.

“Mother dropped by my suite and reminded me that before this whole mess started, Daxton scheduled a speech for you in New York tomorrow afternoon. Since I’m ill and he’s half-dead, Knox will escort you.”

I crossed my arms. Knox had made himself scarce since that night, leaving me to fend for myself. “What’s the speech about?”

“An apology for making them believe that there was ever a reason for revolution. I’ve given Knox your real speech, though. It’s about Daxton,” she added. “The media isn’t going to report on what happened, so it’s up to us to get the word out, starting in New York.”

“Why?” I said. If I went off script, there was no telling what Augusta might do to Benjy. “He’s not dead. What’s the point in telling everyone he’s in a coma?”

“Hope,” said Celia. “To show your supporters that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. No matter what he wants the people to think, Daxton isn’t immortal.”

No, the dead certainly weren’t. I bit the inside of my cheek. “What if Augusta decides to have someone Masked in his place?”

“That’s exactly why we have to do this,” said Celia.

“To make sure Augusta doesn’t have the chance. Having someone Masked is a risk, but she’ll do it if she has to. She’s already proven that.”

More than Celia knew. It would be so easy to stand on a podium and tell the world that Daxton wasn’t really Daxton after all; it would give Celia the opening she needed to snatch the country from her mother, but I would also be signing my own death warrant. Along with Benjy’s. “What will Augusta do to me?”

“Nothing. She’ll threaten and posture, but in the end, with Daxton in such bad condition, she needs you more than ever. Tell the world she’s lying about Daxton’s health, and they’ll flock to you. Lila’s supporters have more power than Daxton and Augusta want to admit,” she added. “That’s why you were Masked, and that’s why Augusta will still need you even if you go off script. Without Daxton, she won’t be able to charm the country into believing whatever she wants. Lila has that power. Do what I tell you, and I swear nothing will happen to you—or your boyfriend.”