But what if she too died? The odds were against her. Any connection they formed would put her in certain mortal peril. How could he do that to her, knowing her chances of survival were so slim?

Then again, what better way to protect her than to be with her always?

He was halfway to the surface before he’d made a conscious decision. The warm sunshine hit his face as he appeared in Sheep Meadow, and at his feet, Cerberus shook off the Underworld gloom.

“What do you think?” said Henry, reaching down and giving his dog a pat. “Up for finding Diana and—”

Cerberus let out a loud woof, and before Henry could create a leash, he took off. Swearing, Henry followed, darting between small clusters of people enjoying the late-summer sunshine. No one seemed too bothered by the sight of a huge dog dashing through the crowd, followed by a man dressed in all black. Then again, it was New York.

Another bark, and Cerberus skidded onto a blanket, diving headfirst into a carefully laid-out picnic. Henry swore and hurried over, careful to appear as if he were breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My dog, he slipped his leash and—”

He stopped cold. Sitting on the blanket among the ruins of what had once been a small feast was Diana. And beside her, giggling as Cerberus snuffled into her hair, was a little girl.

Kate.

Her brown hair hung in a loose braid down her back, and her blue eyes and the smattering of freckles across her nose reminded him so much of Persephone that for a moment, he really was breathless. Whether Diana had done it on purpose or not, she had all but re-created the daughter she’d lost. But there was something about her, something he couldn’t describe—something so fundamentally different from her sister that in the space of a single heartbeat, Persephone faded from his mind completely.

Kate didn’t seem to be at all bothered by the fact that her birthday picnic had been destroyed by a dog three times her size. She gave Cerberus a kiss on the nose and turned to look at Henry, her eyes meeting his. He froze.

She may have been seven, but there was something eternal about her gaze. As if she could see all his thoughts, his hopes, his fears, his pain in one look. As if she understood every moment he’d existed. She may have been mortal, but she was without a doubt the daughter of gods.

“It’s all right,” said Diana, her voice warmer and fuller than he’d heard it in eons. “It looks like he managed to miss the cupcakes.”

“Cerberus, come,” said Henry, and he trotted obediently to his side. Henry ducked his head as he hooked a leash up to his dog’s collar, trying to hide his shock. “Again, my apologies. If there’s anything I could do to make it up to you…”

“Really, it’s no trouble,” said Diana, and she wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Just an excuse to gorge ourselves on cupcakes, really. We’ll get hot dogs on our way out of the park.”

“At least let me pay for those,” he said, because any mortal would insist on the same, but Diana shook her head.

“If you want to help, you could take a few pictures for us,” she said, offering him a camera. “They never turn out quite right when I take them.”

Henry took the camera, a modern kind that felt lighter in his hands than he expected. “Of course,” he said, and he peered through the lens. Even now, Kate stood out like a beacon to him, as if she were the only flame in a world of dark.

He would protect her. He would kill for her. He would fade for her, if that’s what it took to make sure she had the life she deserved. And even if he never loved her the way Diana wanted him to, he would still show her the affection and respect she deserved.

“There,” he said roughly once he’d taken an entire roll of film. “You both look stunning.”

Kate grinned and tried to lick off the purple frosting that had somehow wound up on her nose. “You’re funny,” she said, fixing that infinite stare on him. “Mommy, can he get hot dogs with us?”

Diana looked at him, and he hesitated. He wanted nothing more than to spend more time with them, but to what end? She was a little girl. It wouldn’t do either of them any good for him to befriend her now, as an adult. And he would serve her better by protecting her from afar.

“Thank you,” he said, and he handed the camera back to Diana. “But I’m afraid I have to be somewhere. It was a pleasure meeting you. And happy birthday, Kate. I wish you an infinite number more.”

Kate giggled again and blew him a kiss. As Diana laughed and gathered her up in another embrace, Henry walked away. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected leaving her to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But if he had his way, he would make absolutely certain that he would never have to do so again.

When he returned to the Underworld, a parcel awaited him on his desk. Curious, he unwrapped the shimmering purple paper, wrinkling his nose with distaste. Who would possibly send something like this to him?

The moment he set eyes on what lay beneath, however, all question of the sender flew out of his head. Nestled in lavender tissue paper was a black-and-white picture of Diana and Kate, both holding cupcakes as they laughed together in Central Park. Diana must have been the one to frame the image, and it shimmered in the candlelight, a reflection in the making. All it needed was him.

It’d been a long time since he’d made a reflection—an image that was more a wish than reality. But to him, this was both. In it, he saw his future; a life he might one day have, if he fought hard enough for it. If he protected Kate. If, when the time came, he gave her a reason to choose him.