“Yes. Her other abilities were much the same as mine.” The hint of a smile appeared on his face, and I tried to convince myself that it was because the blood was nearly gone. Not because he was thinking about her. “She could travel. She also had a talent for telling a truth from a lie, and she could create, like all of us can.”
“Create?”
He held out his hand, and a moment later, a flower made of jewels appeared in his empty palm. Exactly like the ones in the garden outside. “For you.”
I took it and examined the delicate petals made of pink quartz. Nestled between them were tiny cream pearls, and the stem was made of metal that was as light as air. I touched the blossom to my nose, but smelled nothing. As stunning as it was, it wasn’t the real thing.
“My brothers and sisters and I are much more powerful than our descendants,” he said. “With each generation, the gifts grow less potent.”
My stomach churned. Our descendants, not their. Then again, Henry always grouped them together as if they were one single entity instead of six individual beings. “Do you—have kids?” I said timidly.
It was humiliating, realizing that I knew so little about him. After studying long and hard last year, I knew what the myths had taught me and what he himself had told me, but myths weren’t always accurate, and Henry had been less than forthcoming about himself. Calliope had once told me it was widely believed Henry had never slept with anyone before me, not even Persephone, but Calliope had turned out to be less than reliable.
“No, I do not,” said Henry, and I nearly choked sucking back my sigh of relief.
“Do you—” I stopped, but Henry nodded encouragingly. “Do you want to someday? A few decades or centuries from now?”
He gave me a wan smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “We will see how you feel then. I do not wish to saddle you with another responsibility you did not ask for. Now come, we must get you ready.”
I frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Did he think I didn’t want this, to be married to him and everything that came along with it?
James’s words floated back to me. This was the choice he’d been talking about, wasn’t it? He knew Henry was having doubts. He knew Henry thought he was a burden to me, or that I was going to pull a Persephone and leave him. Worse, James had tried to talk me into it.
“You know I want this, right?” I said. “No matter what anyone else has said—”
“No one else has said a word about this to me,” said Henry. “Even your mother has respected my boundaries. For once,” he added under his breath. “But this is the beginning of our rule together. We do not need to make these decisions right away.”
Our rule together, not our life together. Another distinction, but this time it wasn’t a slip of the tongue. My throat tightened. “Not when you think I might back out of it anyway, right?”
He hesitated. “I am not your captor. If you wish to leave, you may.”
“No, you’re not my captor. You’re supposed to be my husband,” I snapped. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want to rule alone or—or fade or whatever will happen to you if I go?”
I wanted him to yell at me. I wanted him to be livid. I wanted to make him feel the overpowering emotions he triggered in me when he was like this, when I was so desperate for the approval he refused to give me that I was practically tearing my hair out.
Instead he watched me with a maddeningly calm gaze and said evenly, “I would like for you to give us both some time to adjust to this. It is a new life for us both, and I wish to grow into it together rather than war. There is no need to rush. We have eternity.”
It was rational. That was the worst part about it; I had nothing to bark at him about. He was being the mature one, giving us both space to adjust to this, and I was being the one who clung to him because even though I trusted him with my life, I didn’t trust him enough to love me the way I wanted him to. And in that moment, part of me hated him for it.
“Just tell me if you want me to be here or not,” I whispered. “Please.”
He lowered his head, as if he wanted to kiss me, but he pulled away at the last second. “What I want should never dictate what you do. I want you to be happy, and so long as you are content, I will be, as well.”
That wasn’t an answer and he knew it, but I deflated and followed Henry into the bedroom, where he put on his shirt. I didn’t want to fight, either. I knew things weren’t going to be perfect, and maybe it was James’s fault for making me doubt Henry to begin with, or maybe it was the reminders of Persephone everywhere I looked, but all I wanted was a little reassurance. A touch. A kiss. A word. Anything.
I brushed my fingers against the jeweled flower in my pocket. That would have to be enough for now.
“I presume Ava showed you the closet,” said Henry. “You may pick out anything you wish to wear, though as the ceremony tonight is considered formal, something dressier than you may prefer would be more appropriate.”
“Right,” I said softly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
I hesitated. Did he love me? Was he still in love with Persephone? Did he even want me to be crowned his queen, or was I simply a stand-in for my sister? Why hadn’t he come to see me while I’d been in Greece with James?
But the courage it took for me to ask those questions had disappeared. I dug deep, trying to find some remnants of it as I imagined the inevitable six months of tension and loneliness if I didn’t, but I came up empty. Every piece of me was drenched in sick fear that Henry didn’t want me here after all, that he’d only gone along with it because my mother and the rest of the council had forced him to. That I would be to Henry what he had been to Persephone: nothing but an obligation. So I copped out.
“Which dress do you prefer?”
As Henry led me into the closet to peruse the rack of formal gowns, I reached for his hand, but the moment I touched him, he pulled away. Instead he held up the silver gown I’d admired before. “What about this?”
Nausea washed over me. Maybe he’d simply reached for the dress and hadn’t realized I’d been reaching for him, but half the time he seemed to know what move I was going to make before I did. No matter how I justified it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done it on purpose.
But continuing to fight would only give him an excuse to push me further away, and I’d had enough of that for one day. Tonight, after the ceremony, after everything was settled, then we would talk, and I wouldn’t give him the chance to walk away.
“That’s nice,” I said, forcing a smile. I took the dress, but before I could move toward the changing screen, a loud bang echoed from the bedroom, and I dropped the hanger.
James burst into the closet, stopping short when he saw me standing there with Henry. His shoulders slumped and all the air seemed to leave his lungs, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of resentment on his face. But before I could say a word, it was gone, replaced by the same blankness that had been there earlier.
“There’s been another attack.”
Henry stiffened, and any hope I had of an afternoon with him was gone. He picked up the gown and handed it to me, and one moment he was beside me, and the next he was in the bedroom.
“Tell them to continue preparations for the ceremony,” said Henry as he finished buttoning his shirt. “James and I will return before it starts.”
I stared at him. “You’re going out again? After nearly bleeding to death?”
His lips formed a thin line. “It is my duty. This will not take long.”
“What if whatever hurt you this time makes things even worse?”
“It won’t,” said Henry flatly. “Do as I say and do not worry about it. We will return shortly.”