“It does make the entertainment during family get-togethers more bearable.”

Another moment passed in silence. That must have been what James meant by never getting lost. My mother’s ability to coax life from even the most neglected patch of land, Henry’s ability to travel great distances in the blink of an eye—how else could he have traveled through the Underworld?

“Why can I see things that are happening in other places?” I said. “What’s the use in that? Is that supposed to make me better at deciding people’s fates?”

“Yes, and it will have other uses, as well. Once you are crowned, you will begin to develop other powers,” said Henry. “I will help you as much as I am able, and over time you will learn to control them.”

So on top of learning everything else about the Underworld, I’d have to deal with uncontrollable abilities, as well.

Not that the thought of being able to do godlike things wasn’t exciting, but I didn’t like the idea of having visions without warning. Not when they gave me a pounding headache after. “What are my abilities going to be?”

“I am not certain. The things Persephone could do will not necessarily transfer to you.”

My heart sank. At the rate this was going, I would never escape Persephone’s shadow. “What could she do?” I said, even though she was the last thing I wanted to talk about.

“Could she see things?”

“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 f lower 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 f loated 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 distinc-tion, 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.