His hand stilled. “I haven’t.”
“How? I’ve looked like this—like Lila—for months,” I said. “How could you possibly still look at me and see Kitty Doe?”
Benjy shifted so we were face-to-face, and he touched the curve of my jaw. Lila’s jaw. “It isn’t about what you look like. It never has been. It’s about what’s underneath, and that hasn’t changed.”
He was trying to be kind—he was being kind, like always. But I could see the way he looked at me sometimes, especially when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. I tried to imagine what it would be like if Benjy were Masked into someone else—Knox, or Greyson, or Strand—and part of me knew that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t be able to separate them completely. He would always be somewhat changed. Maybe Benjy was better at this than I would be—maybe he still saw the real me underneath. But I wasn’t the same anymore. The past four months had changed me irrevocably, and sometimes I wondered if he knew that. Or if he wanted to pretend as badly as I did.
“Yeah, but—” I hesitated, not knowing how to put the knot of frustration in my throat into words. “It’s not just that. I don’t know where I belong anymore. I’m a Hart. I’m a former prisoner. I’m a Blackcoat. But I’m not really any of those things, either. And I’m not who I look like. I’m not anything except that speech. And even that wasn’t good enough for Knox, not really.”
Benjy’s hand resumed running through my hair, and he toyed with the ends. “Forget Knox. He’s under so much pressure right now that nothing is going to make him happy, so you might as well focus on making yourself happy instead.”
I frowned. Happy had become such a foreign concept to me that I wasn’t sure I remembered what it felt like. “I don’t know how to do that anymore.”
“Sure you do.” He smiled, but it faded quickly. “This isn’t forever, Kitty. And when we’ve won, there will be a place for you in our new world, and a place for everyone who doesn’t feel like they belong.”
I wanted to believe him, but there was no good place in the world for me after the war was over. I would never be me anymore. I would always be Lila’s double. And while others—smarter than me, most likely—would know how to use that to give them the life they wanted, I didn’t.
At the rate I was going, as lost and confused as I was, I would always be someone else’s idea of who I should be. And I hated that thought nearly as much as I hated the man known as Daxton Hart.
The radio crackled, the music replaced by white noise. I muttered a curse and reached over to turn it off.
“Wait, keep it on,” said Benjy, and I frowned. But before I could ask when he’d gained an appreciation for static, a voice began to speak—one as familiar to me as my own.
“My apologies for interrupting your evening,” said Lila Hart, though she didn’t sound very sorry at all. “This will be brief. Earlier today, a girl by the name of Kitty Doe, who was hired to impersonate me at public events for my own safety, made several claims against my uncle, Prime Minister Daxton Hart. I am here of my own free will to tell you all that every word out of her mouth is a profound, grievous, and traitorous lie. The man who is your Prime Minister is and always has been my biological uncle, and the United States government will take every measure not only to prove this, but also to show you how deep into the well of lies the entire Blackcoat rhetoric goes.”
I stared at Benjy, my stomach constricting painfully. He shook his head in resignation. “We knew this was coming,” he murmured. “There was never any question how they were going to counter.”
“But—” My mouth went dry. No matter how stupid it was, part of me had thought offering Lila a lifeline would change something. But of course it hadn’t. She was still under Daxton’s thumb, and she would be until one of them was dead.
I almost couldn’t bear to listen to the rest of it as, one by one, Lila recounted my claims and insisted they were false. No matter how many holes she alleged were in my full story, she returned to Daxton’s true identity over and over again. But while I dug my nails so deep into my palms I was sure they’d start bleeding, Benjy smirked.
“Do you hear that?” he said, and I shook my head. “‘The lady doth protest too much.’”
“I have no idea what that means,” I said miserably. “Can we please turn it off?”
Benjy switched off the radio, and merciful silence filled the room. Or mostly silence, anyway—from somewhere in the manor, I could hear Lila’s voice filtering up toward us, her words muffled. But that was infinitely better than having her blasted in my ear.
“It means there’s a very thin line between rightfully protesting, and protesting so much that it becomes clear you’re trying to hide something,” said Benjy. “Anyone with half a brain can tell she took a flying leap over the line.”
I was quiet for a moment. “Do you think she’s doing it on purpose?”
“Maybe, if her speech isn’t scripted,” he said. “If it is, clearly someone’s panicking, and that someone is probably Daxton.”
So there was a chance Lila was fighting back after all. I forced myself into a sitting position, wincing as my ribs protested. “I need to talk to Knox.”
“No, you need to rest,” said Benjy, reaching for my shoulder. “You may not have any broken bones, but that doesn’t mean you’re not injured.”
I shrugged off his hand. “Benjy, I love you, but Knox was furious that I pardoned Lila for her crimes, and he’s going to use any excuse he can get to undo that. She just handed him one on a silver platter.” I swung my feet around carefully and stood. Though walking back to the manor through the tunnels hadn’t been difficult, now that my body had had time to rest and the adrenaline had worn off, every little wrong move sent aching pain through me. “He won’t listen to me with the other Blackcoats backing him up, so I need to talk to him before he calls a meeting to figure out a rebuttal.”
“I’ll be there to support you,” he pointed out.
“And a dozen other Blackcoats will be there to support him,” I said.
Benjy didn’t look convinced, but rather than fight me on it, he stood as well and offered me a hand. “At least let me help you down the steps.”
I gave him a long, searching look, but at last I accepted. Together we made our way through the hallway and down the staircase, his grip on me strong and steady, the sort that never made me question whether he’d catch me if I fell. I didn’t know how I’d lucked out, having Benjy in my life, but it was one of the few things I wouldn’t trade for anything.
I was positive he would try to weasel his way into my talk with Knox, but to my surprise, once we reached the foyer, he let me go. “I’ll be helping with dinner. Shout if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I said, watching him head into the kitchen. As soon as he disappeared, leaving me alone in the marble entranceway with an ornate H decorating the floor, I crossed to the office that had once belonged to Jonathan Mercer, Hannah’s husband. Even now, two weeks after she had killed him, I still felt a shiver run through me every time I approached the white double doors.
I cracked them open, my mouth open and a greeting on the tip of my tongue. Before I could say anything, however, Knox’s voice shot through the room like a whip. “No.”
“I need—” I began, but the words died on my lips. Knox wasn’t talking to me. Instead he paced in front of his desk, and on the monitor I saw a feed of Celia Hart. The real Lila’s mother.
Knox shot me a vicious look over his shoulder, but rather than forcing me to leave, he gestured for me to come in, sparing us both that fight.
I slipped inside and closed the doors, sticking to a corner where Celia wouldn’t be able to see me. On the monitor, she leaned forward until