“Is that what siblings do?” he joked. “My brother—our brother, I guess—he mostly ignored me.”
Jameson, Greyson’s older brother and the original heir to the title of Prime Minister, had been killed in the same bombing that had taken the lives of the real Frederick and his wife. Greyson had only been spared thanks to that marvelous brain of his, when he’d skipped the outing to tinker on his inventions instead, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for it. “I won’t ignore you,” I said, as I let him go and tapped my cuff. “I won’t even ask how to turn this thing off in case you get too chatty.”
“There’s a gemstone on the side,” he said with a smile. “All you have to do is slide it down. Slide it back up to turn it on. Obviously you’ll want to keep it on as much as possible, just in case, bu
