He narrowed his eyes. She wanted him to start a relationship with a lie. He should’ve expected nothing less, but the thought of manipulating a child into loving him, only to snatch her away from the surface when she was old enough to marry…perhaps that was something Walter would have done, but Henry liked to think he was better than that. “And what is the harm in waiting until she is older?”

“By then, she may have found a reason to turn you down,” said Diana. “And rather than take that chance, it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to befriend her, would it?”

“I would rather not,” he said flatly.

“You promised you would try, and that’s all I’m asking of you. I’m not suggesting anything salacious or immoral. I’m merely suggesting you give her a chance as a friend,” said Diana. “I’m a mother myself, if you care to recall, and I would never condone you taking an interest in a child. But I also know you would never do such a thing, and I realize there is a distinct possibility that even if I do find you a queen, she may be nothing more than a friend to you. I am willing to take that chance. A queen and a simple confidante is better than no one at all.”

He sighed. “And you swear that if she and I do not get on as friends, you will not pressure either of us any further?”

“I swear.” She squeezed his hand. “Now come. Let’s go meet her.”

The trip up to the surface was nothing special, but as they appeared in the streets of New York City, panic began to spread through Henry, numbing his entire body. The streets were crowded with the bustle of men and women going about their day, avoiding the horse-drawn carriages passing them by at alarming speeds. And—Henry blinked—horseless carriages that seemed to move of their own accord. Despite his wonder, he couldn’t stop and enjoy it, not today. Swallowing his nerves, he took the form of a boy not much older than Ingrid, and Diana held his hand as a mother would.

The orphanage wasn’t far, and soon enough they entered the narrow building. Squished between two other dwellings, the only natural light came from small windows in the back and front. The rest was lit with a type of lamp Henry had never seen before.

“Ah, Diana,” said a woman’s voice from the floor above them. Henry craned his neck as a matronly woman who reminded him of his sister Sofia descended the stairs. “Is this the boy?”

His sister nodded. “His name’s Henry. He won’t tell me anything more than that.”

“Oh, my dear.” The woman knelt in front of him, and Henry eyed her, shuffling his feet in an attempt to adjust to his new body. He’d changed forms before, of course, but never with this level of deception in mind. “You look half-starved, you poor thing. I’m Matilda. Why don’t we get some warm bread in you before you join the other children?”

As she touched his shoulder to guide him up the stairs, Diana let go of his hand, and Henry scowled. Is this your plan? Leave me here as one of them?

I don’t see you suggesting anything better. He could hear the smugness in her tone, and he sighed.

How will I know which one she is?

Oh, you’ll know. If you have any questions, dear brother, you know where to find me. And before you immediately reject her, do yourself a favor and give her a chance. You never know what might happen.

Henry may not have had access to an oracle as Theo did, but he was relatively sure this was little more than a stab in the dark. To say a little girl would be compatible with him was madness, and though he understood his sister’s desperation, this was taking it too far.

He would leave—he’d be doing her a favor, really, allowing her the chance to live her life as she should have, without the heartache an eternity with him would bring. He had promised Diana he would try, but to what end? To trap this girl in the Underworld? To force her to be his friend when all she wanted was her freedom? It helped that she had no family to miss, certainly, but he could not be their replacement. He’d already made that mistake once.

Matilda led him into a room with two neat rows of a dozen beds pushed close together. “Here are the others your age,” she said. “Why don’t you join in while I find you something hot to eat?”

Henry didn’t reply. Instead he scanned the other children, searching for a girl who might be called Ingrid. A few of them stopped playing to stare at him, both boys and girls, but there didn’t seem to be anything extraordinary about them. And Diana would choose someone special, of that Henry was certain.

But they all looked ordinary. Clean, well cared for, certainly, but no one stood out. They played in three groups, each having claimed a third of the room, and none of them asked him to join them. Not that he needed their permission, of course. It was ludicrous to think that he, Lord of the Underworld, could be bested by a roomful of seven- to ten-year-olds, but here he was.

“You’re Henry, aren’t you?” A high, almost musical voice sounded from the doorway, and he turned. A girl with two blond braids stood behind him, holding a bowl of something that smelled like broth. And though he’d been looking for her, the shock of seeing her for the first time made the blood drain from his face.

This was Ingrid. He knew it as well as he knew himself, and though she didn’t appear to be anything but ordinary, everything about her called to him. The kindness in her blue eyes, the bashfulness in her cheeks, the way her small size made him want to protect her against every bad thing that had led her to this place. In her he saw something—something wiser and deeper than the others, something he couldn’t explain. But it was there. That much he was sure of.