His speech didn’t work. A moment of kindness didn’t erase the years of feeling unloved. And they had been lying to me the whole time. I didn’t even have unloving parents—I had no family. I was truly alone—the last Stavros. How dare he try to tell me those horrible experiences growing up were to teach me lessons and then expect me to buy this act. Not going to happen.

Hawke started talking about how they intended to keep me safe, how he and Lincoln would take turns guarding me, and how we would continue to act like a family so no one would know the truth. He kept emphasizing how important it was to keep my identity secret, reiterating that I would put my friends in danger should they find out.

I barely listened. If they had been protecting my identity this whole time, how had that woman found out about me?

“Do you understand?” Hawke gave me that expectant look one more time. When I did not respond, he repeated himself. “You have to act normal, especially in front of your friends, and especially in front of Lady Ambrosia. It’s best to keep them in the dark, that way they won’t be harmed.”

“Crystal clear. I need some time alone. I’ll stay within the perimeter you’re allowing me.”

Without waiting for a response, I stormed past them. I couldn’t stand to be there another second. I decided that I could not trust these people.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I couldn’t face my friends just yet. No matter how much talking to them would help me process everything I had just learned, I simply could not risk anybody else getting hurt—not after finding out that what happened to Bryan and Carlo was essentially all my fault. I would never forgive myself if I put anyone else in danger.

I also wasn’t ready to pretend like nothing had happened, which was what Drake, Hawke, and Lincoln were asking me to do. I had just been given a serious mental overload, so I spent the rest of the day alone in my room. As I paced my bedroom, pieces of the puzzle kept clicking into place. The very first night here I had been sick after taking one sip of wine from the Golden Chalice. Now it all made sense: Because I was a Pure Royal, I couldn’t ingest the wine meant for the Regulars without feeling ill. No wonder I had passed out. And that time when Adrian and I had snuck into the library, that spirit Yew-la Bew-la or whatever her name was had let me in, and she even mentioned that it had been a while since my kind had been there. Had she meant Stavroses? Had she known all along? Then there was my dream about the Stavros door—had my subconscious somehow known the truth?