“What you might expect. Diana was not pleased with me, and neither was Walter. I suspect that despite our earlier discussion, you are not, either.”

I considered lying, but it wouldn’t do any good. “No, I’m not,” I said. “We never—f igured it out. But I don’t want to be the person who tries to force you to feel something you don’t. I meant what I said. I won’t leave you unless you don’t want me here anymore.”

“I wish for you to stay, yet here you are, packing three months early,” he said quietly, and I stopped.

“You know why,” I mumbled. “I’ll be back as soon as I find Rhea.”

“For how long?”

I gently extracted the boot I’d dropped from Pogo’s mouth. “As long as you’ll have me.”

“That will be for a very long time.”

I exhaled and smiled, feeling as if a weight were lifted off my chest. “Good.”

He stepped toward me and touched my cheek. “I enjoy seeing you smile. It means I have done something right. I am afraid that sometimes I cannot tell.”

“It’s okay.” I tilted my head into his hand. He cupped my face and brushed his thumb against my jaw. “Persephone told me that you said it wasn’t as good as you expected.

When she kissed you, I mean.”

Something f lickered behind his eyes, but it was gone so fast that I couldn’t tell what it was. “No, it was not. I f ind little joy in showing affection to someone who does not return it.”

“Yeah, me, too.” I covered his hand with mine and pressed my lips against his palm. “It hurts being the one who loves more.”

Henry stepped closer so our bodies were only inches apart. Despite the warmth that radiated from him, I shivered. “If I had been unchained, I would have ripped Calliope to pieces in the cavern. Had Walter allowed me, I would have done it the moment I had her alone in the palace.”

I snorted softly. “Is that supposed to be romantic?”

“It is supposed to be the truth.” He stared at me, and my breath caught in my throat. “If I were a better man, I would be able to show you the love and affection you deserve. As I am not, I can only offer you what I am capable of giving.

But I assure you, just because I do not show it doesn’t mean I do not feel it.”

It was exactly what everyone had been trying to tell me since September, but hearing the words come from Henry f inally made me believe them. “I think I’m getting that,” I said thickly. “I don’t want you to be anyone you aren’t.”

“Then trust me when I say there is no one else I would rather be with.” He ran his f ingers through my hair and tickled my neck with the ends. “Not even Persephone. She was my past, and I was never her future. There was a time when I fought for her, but f ighting for someone is meaning-less if they are not happy with you.”

“Am I doing the right thing, then?” I said. “Fighting for you.”

He circled his arms around my waist, and he was so close that I could feel his breath against my cheek. “No,” he said, and the word made my stomach contract. But before I could panic, he continued, his voice smooth and meant only for me. “You never had to f ight for me to begin with. I am yours and have been from the moment I saw you.” Everything I’d worried myself sick about, every awful thought I had, every doubt, deserved or not—Henry could have prevented them all if he’d simply said that in September. Even the way Persephone had kissed him, I could have understood if only I hadn’t been left alone with my fears for so long. Or maybe if we’d talked about it earlier, she would’ve never had to kiss him in the f irst place. I wheezed a sigh of relief. “It would’ve been nice to know that three months ago.”

A ghost of a smile graced his features. “Yes, I suppose it would have been, and I am sorry for how I have acted.

I will do better in the future.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Please do not go.”

In that moment, the last thing I wanted to do was leave him, and I looped my arms around him. “You know I have to. I can’t stand by and do nothing, and without Rhea, you could all die. It’s worth the risk. You know it is.” Henry sighed. “You are too stubborn for your own good.”

“I hear it runs in the family.” A moment passed, and I said softly, “When I come back…would it be all right with you if I stayed?”

He furrowed his brow. “Why would it not? I would do anything to make you not go, but that does not mean I will not welcome you back when you return.”

“No, I mean—” I hesitated. “Our deal. Do I have to leave every spring, or can I stay down here with you?” He stilled, at last understanding. I held my breath as I waited for his answer, and he pulled away enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine. He wouldn’t f ind the lie he was looking for though. “You want to stay here all year?

With me?”

“With you. As your wife.”

“As my wife,” he echoed, his gaze growing distant. I bit my lip.

“Is that all right? Staying here all year wouldn’t be breaking any rules or anything, would it?”

“I am the one who makes the rules. If you wish to stay, then you may.” He cupped my neck, his palm warm against my bare skin. “I would be very grateful if you did, but I do not want you to unless you are certain it is what you want. You would have the opportunity to visit the surface whenever you wished, but it is dreary down here.” He hesitated, as if he didn’t know if he should bring it up or not. “Persephone used to say that once you have seen the sun, it is impossible to truly be happy without it.”