by Aimee Carter
“I do not know,” he said. “But I suspect I will last until your death, if it comes to that. If you will still have me when this is through.”
I forced a small smile. “That would be nice,” I said. “To—to be your friend.”
“You are my friend,” he said, and I said nothing. Friends. Just friends—nothing more. I tried to feel relieved, to remind myself that I hadn’t wanted any of this to begin with, but all I could feel was mind-numbing hurt.
He said he would love me, and I believed him. But it would never be in the way I wanted. I didn’t know when I’d decided I wanted more—maybe the moment I’d kissed him at Christmas, or when I’d lost Ava all over again and couldn’t bear to lose anyone else—but all I knew was that I did. It was something he could never give me, and that hurt more than I could stand.
Most of February slipped by in the same monotonous pattern as before. I took my meals alone, and I had classes with Irene nearly every day. After that first exam, she never gave me another test again, although whether it was because she’d never intended on it or because Henry had asked her not to, I didn’t know.
The one thing that was not monotonous was my time with Henry. Our conversation in the Underworld had been a silent turning point, and while spending the evenings with him was always the best part of my day, there was an underlying hurt now that I couldn’t justify. He’d laid out what he wanted, and I knew I had to respect that. I couldn’t have him, but with each evening that passed, I felt myself falling deeper and deeper for him, spiraling downward into a place where the word love was synonymous with pain.
Every look, every touch, every brush of his lips, as innocent as they may have been—how could he say he only wanted friendship when he was treating me like his partner? When he wanted me to be his wife? I didn’t understand it, and as time passed, I grew more confused. I didn’t know what this sort of love felt like, but by the time winter started to come to an end, with the exception of my mother, I felt closer to him than I had to anyone in my life. It hurt to be away from him, but sometimes, when he told me stories of his life before me, his life with Persephone, it was agony to be with him. Still, our friendship was so strong that it felt like the most natural thing in the world. There was no one I’d have rather spent my time with, no matter how much it hurt.
Finally, despite there still being so many tests remaining, it was March, the last month I was required to stay in Eden Manor. On one hand, I was reluctantly excited at the thought of getting to leave and seeing the world again; on the other, I knew what was waiting for me when I left. If I were lucky, I would have one last day to sit by my mother’s side and talk to her, whether or not she could really hear me. Then, once I’d said my goodbyes, she would die. I began to prepare myself for that reality, though I struggled with it as I always had. How was I ever supposed to tell her goodbye?
A few days into the month, Henry met with the council. I wasn’t allowed to go—didn’t want to go and face James—and I busied myself with entertaining Pogo in the green-and-gold drawing room while he was gone. I suspected it had something to do with my tests and how they’d seemed to stop in the months that followed Christmas, but I hadn’t asked him before he’d left. The only thing I was certain of anymore was that no girl had gotten as far as I had, and with each day that passed, the danger grew. Unless it really had been James who’d killed all those girls—and as angry as I was with him, I refused to believe he was capable of murder—whoever had done it was still out there, waiting for the right time.
“Do you think he’ll grow much bigger?” said Calliope as we waited for Henry to return, and she scratched Pogo’s pink belly. His tongue lolled out to the side, and he seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Doubt it,” I said. “He hasn’t really grown much lately.”
“Are you going to take him with you when you leave?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t decided. He’d probably like it here better, wouldn’t he?”
Before she could respond, the doors opened and a chill fell over the room. Calliope scrambled to her feet, still awkwardly holding Pogo, and I twisted around to see who was there. Henry stood framed in the doorway, anger rolling off of him in waves.
“I—I have to go,” said Calliope, shoving Pogo in my arms and rushing out of the room. As she passed Henry, she gave him a strange, lingering look, though she didn’t say anything to him.
Several tense seconds passed before Henry finally spoke. “I need you to stop eating.”
Cuddling Pogo to my chest, I sat down on one of the couches. “Why? I like eating. Eating’s sort of important to staying alive, y’know, and unlike the rest of you, that’s something I happen to be.”
“You do not need to eat here.” Henry closed the door and moved toward me, but he didn’t sit down. “It is unnecessary, and you must adapt.”
Slowly I set Pogo down, and he at least had sense enough to run behind the couch. I, on the other hand, stupidly stayed put. “I like eating. I’m not overweight, and I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Henry’s eyes were a stormy shade of gray that made me shiver. “What about Calliope?”
“What about her?”
“Every time you sit down to a meal, you put her in jeopardy.”
I stared at him. “That’s a horrible thing for you to use against me. What am I supposed to say to that?”
“It is true,” he said harshly. “And I would prefer that you say it is enough incentive to make you stop eating.”
I clenched my jaw. “Why are you bringing it up now?”
He closed his eyes, a crease forming in the middle of his brow. I’d never seen him so upset, even when Xander had been killed. But it was food. What was the big deal?
“It is a test,” he said softly, as if he didn’t want anyone to overhear. “If you don’t stop eating before the council makes their judgment, you will fail.”
Eating was a test? “How can that possibly be a test?” I blurted. “What’s the point? To see if I can starve myself until I’m so skinny that I’ll die the instant I leave?”
“Gluttony,” he said sharply, and I shut my mouth. “And to see how well you adapt. That is what it tests. Do not yell at me, Kate. I am not the one who decided what the tests would be.”
Gluttony. I had to think for a moment, but once I realized where I’d heard the word before, I froze. “The seven deadly sins? That’s what I’m being tested on?”
Henry wrung his hands together. “I cannot answer that. If the council discovers I have told you this much, there is a very good chance that we will automatically fail.”
We. The way he said it in a thick voice tugged at something inside of me, and with a start I realized he was finally doing it. I pressed my hands together, hardly daring to hope.
“You care?” I said. “I thought—”
He stood and started to pace, refusing to look at me. “You have been unhappy with me. Why?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He was right. “Because,” I said in a miserable voice and hating myself for it. “I don’t want to just be your friend.”
Henry stopped and turned toward me, though he didn’t look surprised. Instead he looked like he was trying to put the pieces together. “I thought you did not wish to act as my wife.”
I made a face. “There are steps between friend and wife, you know. I mean, I know you’re ancient and all, but you must have at least heard of dating.”
He didn’t smile, but his expression softened. “If you pass, you will be my wife. Is that something you are willing to accept now?”
I nodded, trying not to look too nervous. Or think about the whole thing too much.
“Because you care for me?”
“Yes,” I mumbled, embarrassed. “And if you hold that against me—”
I didn’t have time to finish. One second he stood across the room, and the next he crouched down beside me, kissing me so deeply that by the time he finally pulled away, I was almost gasping
for air. “What—” I started, but he pressed his finger against my lips.
“I care,” he said in a trembling voice. “I care so much that I do not know how to tell you without it seeming inconsequential compared to how I feel. Even if I am distant at times and seem as if I do not want to be with you, it is only because this scares me, too.”
I stared at him. He leaned in and kissed my swollen lips again, and this time I kissed back. Time seemed to fall away around us, and all I could see, hear, taste, smell, feel was him. A delicious kind of warmth spread through me, but this time it wasn’t my ankle he was healing.
When he pulled away a second time, I let my hands fall from his hair to my side, and I watched him, unsure of what to do now. He straightened and stood, though he didn’t take his eyes off me. “Please,” he said. “Stop eating.”
I nodded, too disarmed to come up with anything to say in protest.
“Thank you.” He reached out to brush his fingers against my cheek, and then stepped toward the door. Before I could form any kind of coherent thought in my head, he was gone.
I licked my lips, still able to taste him, and smiled. Finally, after nearly six months, he was trying.
That night, as he always did, Henry slipped into my room an hour after I finished dinner. I’d spent the afternoon wondering what would happen, if it would all go back to normal or if there would be more of those heart-pounding kisses, but by the time he arrived, I’d decided it didn’t matter. It was more than enough to know I was no longer alone in the fight for his existence.
“I am sorry,” he said, lingering near the doorway. I was on my bed playing with Pogo, who had a new assortment of toys to keep him entertained. I looked up in time to see Henry close the door. “My actions earlier were uncalled for.”
For one horrible moment, I thought he was apologizing for kissing me. It wasn’t until I felt my face drain of color that I realized he was sorry for getting angry I was still eating, and by then, all I could manage was a nervous laugh. “You were just trying to warn me. I had one last meal tonight, but I’m done now, I promise.”
The Greek seafood pasta, which usually made me delirious with hunger, had tasted like sawdust in my mouth, and I’d only managed a few bites. But there would be no more food now. I’d made a promise to Henry, and I wasn’t going to break it any more than I already had.
He took a tentative step toward me. “Still, I should not have yelled as I did. You did nothing to deserve it.”
“You were worried.” I shrugged. “I want to pass, and I wouldn’t have stopped eating if you hadn’t told me. So thank you.”
He crossed the room and took a seat next to me on the bed, picking up one of Pogo’s toys. Yipping happily, my puppy dropped the bone I’d given him and went after Henry, tugging and growling relentlessly at the piece of rope.
“He is quite determined,” said Henry with a tiny smile.
“Stubborn as a mule,” I said. “Thinks he’s the size of one, too.”
Henry chuckled, and I was so relieved to see him happy again that I almost didn’t hear the soft knock on my door. “Kate?”
It was Calliope. “Come on in,” I said, and she pushed the door open as she carried a tray with the two mugs of hot chocolate she brought us every night. I glanced at Henry, silently asking for approval, and he nodded. When she set the tray down on the nightstand, he held up his hand to stop her. Even though she was staring at the carpet, she froze.
“You’re sure it’s safe?”
It was the first time he’d ever questioned her in front of me. Since the incident at Christmas, nothing else had happened, no threats or suspicious packages, but Calliope still tried everything I ate.
“I’m sure.” Calliope spoke so softly I could barely hear her, and a blush stained her cheeks. “May I please go?”
He nodded, and she left the room so quickly that I didn’t have time to thank her. I eyed the door, wondering what was wrong, but the scent of cocoa reached my nose and distracted me. After handing a mug to Henry, I picked up my own and took a sip. Henry watched me closely, and my pulse increased, though I wasn’t sure whether it was because I thought something might happen or because of the way he stared. Maybe both.
I rolled my eyes playfully. “I’m not going to die today, Henry, I promise. Now, are you going to tell me why Calliope’s terrified of you?”
He grimaced and drank, undoubtedly a stalling technique. “I am afraid she has been like that for a number of years. The ease you have while spending time with me is quite rare. Most are afraid of me.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Though part of me knew it wasn’t. I was sure he held back when he was around me.
“When you are the ruler of the dead, it is not so difficult to see why others do not like you.” He waved dismissively. “It is the same with most of the staff. Those who will look me in the eye when I speak to them are few and far between.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” And to demonstrate that point, I leaned forward and kissed him like he’d kissed me in the drawing room, careful not to spill my drink. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for him to respond, hoping he wouldn’t pull away and declare everything that had happened a mistake. To my relief, he finally returned it. His lips were warm against mine, and he tasted like chocolate.
Eventually he broke the kiss and took my mug from me, setting both of them on the nightstand. “I do not think Pogo appreciates being ignored.”
Pogo was on his belly and watching us both intently. When he saw that I was looking at him, he wagged his tail. “Pogo, off,” I said, tossing a few of his new toys from the mattress onto the pillow that served as his bed. He obeyed and scampered down, leaving me and Henry on our own.
I turned back to Henry, feeling more relaxed and content than I had all day. “There,” I said, leaning toward him again. “All better.”
The way he kissed me—I could’ve drowned in him and never been happier. Each time he touched me, I expected sparks, and the heat of his palm against my bare neck was almost too much to take. Crawling into his lap, I wrapped my legs around his waist, deepening the kiss. While I was leading, he seemed as eager as I was, and it felt as if all of that pent-up emotion was finally spilling out of both of us. Several moments later, I pulled away.
“Henry?” I ran my hands through his hair as I caught my breath. “Can I tell you something and have you promise not to laugh at me?”
“I would never laugh at you.” His eyes reflected the ache I felt, and I knew I could trust him on that.
Swallowing, I said in a low voice, “I’m not very good at this. The whole—falling for someone thing, being with them…even with the kissing, I’m not very good.”
He started to protest, but I kept talking. Now that I knew he cared for me like I cared for him, I had to tell him. Maybe I should’ve given him more time to adjust, but there was an urgency that seemed to spread through me, making the words fall from my lips without anything to stop them.
“I’m not, even if you think I am. But no matter what this started out as…an accident, fate, whatever—I’m glad you found me that night. Not because of what happened, but because of now. Because I get to be here with you. And I’m scared, too, but—but thank you for telling me today. Thank you for trusting me with that. I’ve never…” I pressed my lips together, trying to find the right words. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone. And I’m not really sure what falling in love feels like, but I think—I know I have. With you.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent speech ever, but Henry didn’t seem to care. For the first time since we’d met, he looked bowled over, and I worried that I’d said too much.
“Did you know,” he said, his breath warm on my cheek, “that that is the first time anyone has ever told me they loved me?”
Startled, I did the only thing I could think of—I kissed him again. “You’d better get used to hearing it more often, because I plan on saying it to you an awful lot.”
He returned my kiss, and my h
ead spun as my hands drifted down to unbutton his shirt. This time we didn’t stop.
The next morning I awoke in a tangle of limbs. My head pounded and my body ached, but I couldn’t find it in me to mind too much. The warmth and drowsiness I felt wrapped in Henry’s arms was more than enough to make me happy. The previous night came flooding back to me, and I distinctly remembered skirting the topic of Henry with my mother, too embarrassed to tell her I’d slept with him, but I didn’t regret it. It simply wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to tell her until I had no choice. Better she assumed that sort of thing happened after the wedding, if it happened at all.
“Mm, morning,” I said, forcing my eyes to open. Instead of smiling, Henry was staring at me as if I’d grown another limb. Confused, I struggled to prop myself up on my elbow, but even that little movement felt like a knife being thrust into the side of my head. Wincing, I gingerly lay back on the pillow. One look at Henry’s face told me I’d made things worse.
He was standing before I realized he’d gotten out of bed. Producing a black silk robe out of nowhere, he quickly wrapped it around his body, never taking his eyes off of me. But it wasn’t the loving look he’d given me the night before. “Does your head hurt?”
It seemed like a stupid question, all things considered, but I nodded—and immediately regretted it.
“Do you feel achy?”
“A bit,” I admitted, squeezing my eyes shut. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer. Forcing myself to open my eyes once more, I saw him standing over the mugs, sniffing what remained of the hot chocolate.
“Henry?” I said, my voice rising. “What’s going on?”
Without warning, he threw the mugs across the room. They smashed against the wall, staining the wallpaper.
“Dammit!” he roared, and then proceeded to curse in another twenty languages I couldn’t name. Struggling to sit up again, this time I pushed past the pain. I clutched the sheet to my chest and stared at him, too shocked to say anything.
“Calliope!” he yelled, his voice booming, but there was no reply. Instead Nicholas opened the door, making a point of not looking at me.