Whatever lesson Persephone had tried to teach Henry backf ired, and even if she left the palace tomorrow, that wouldn’t change the fact that Henry would always love her more. I wanted to hate her for what she’d done, but she hadn’t been the one to burst into our marriage. I was the one who’d sought her out, and I’d convinced her to reenter her old life, despite knowing full well what the consequences of Henry seeing her again might be. All she’d done was try to discourage his feelings—in a twisted way that had failed miserably, but she had tried.

And now I’d lost him completely.

The sound of the bedroom door opening woke me up from a light doze. Pogo stretched, and when I sat up, he f lopped down in my lap belly-up, apparently unwilling to let me go anywhere without him again.

Henry stood in the doorway, and for a long moment, we simply stared at each other. His ageless face was drawn and his lips turned down in a frown, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

Finally he stepped inside the room and shut the door.

Without coming to greet me, he headed to his closet and began to sort through his clothes. I wiped my cheeks to make sure no evidence of my crying session remained, but they’d been dry for hours.

Once he’d picked out a fresh shirt that was indistinguish-able from the one he wore, I expected him to say something, but he wordlessly disappeared into the bathroom as if I weren’t even there. Did he think so little of me that I wasn’t worth a hello?

While he was gone, I debated whether or not to continue pretending everything was all right. The coward in me wanted to, but I knew that if I tried, I would be as miserable as Persephone had been, and I didn’t want to be miserable anymore. I couldn’t spend my life waiting for him to set Persephone aside and focus on me instead.

By the time he came out, I knew what I had to say.

Everything inside of me fought against the words that spilled from my mouth, but I needed to say it, and Henry needed to hear it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

My voice was barely a whisper, but Henry stopped halfway between the bathroom and the door. He didn’t look at me, but his hands formed f ists, and the cords in his neck stood out like they had in the room with the windows.

Self-loathing washed over me. I was doing the same thing Persephone had done to him; I was giving up. Before we’d even had a chance, I was declaring it over.

No. Henry was the one who’d given up. He was the one who’d declared it over the moment he refused to touch me or treat me like his wife. He was the one who’d lost us somewhere; I was only giving up the search, as well. There was nothing I could do, no magical words I could say to f ix everything if he’d already abandoned us.

“Cannot do what, exactly?” said Henry, and I heard the strain in each word he spoke, as if it took monumental effort for him to form them. My palms were sweaty, and more than anything I wanted to take it back and apologize and beg for him to talk to me so we could f igure this out, but he wasn’t going to do that. And even if he did, tomorrow things would go back to this, and neither of us would ever be happy again. I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t do that to me.

“This,” I said softly. “Us. Last year, when we were—

before we were married, I thought now would be perfect, and that I would be happier than I’ve ever been in my life, getting to be with you. Getting to love you for the rest of eternity. But no matter how much I want to love you, you won’t let me, and I can’t do this anymore.” Henry didn’t move. I wanted him to come over to the bed, to take my hand and tell me he was sorry, that he’d try harder, but he didn’t. He stared at the door instead. “May I ask what precipitated this decision?”

There it was, the elephant in the room. The thing I wasn’t supposed to see. The thing that changed everything.

“You kissed Persephone.”

At once, several emotions passed over his face. Shock, shame, humiliation, anger, pain—relief ? Yes, relief, as well.

“I did not expect her to tell you. I am sorry.” Dead silence. Out of all the things I thought he might say, that had never crossed my mind. “That’s your response?” I blurted. “That you’re sorry I found out? Persephone didn’t tell me, Henry. It was this so-called gift. I was in the room with you. I saw every damn second of it. I heard every single word you said to her. I watched you do it.” I blinked rapidly to stop myself from tearing up again, but I was f ighting a losing battle. He didn’t care. He wasn’t even going to pretend he’d done something wrong. “You know what James told me at the end of the summer? He said I had a choice, and he was the only one who was going to tell me about it, because everyone else was so concerned with your happiness that they didn’t give a damn about mine. I told him I’d already made my choice when I’d married you, but he kept insisting I wait. I didn’t understand what he meant, but now I do.”

“James.” His name was twisted and ugly on Henry’s lips.

“Yes, of course he would fool you into second-guessing yourself. For purely self less reasons, I am certain.”

“I’m not second-guessing myself,” I snapped. “I’m second-guessing you. I’ve given you every chance in the world to show me that you want me here, and you’ve given me nothing. You run off whenever you think you’re going to have to be in a room alone with me for more than two minutes at a time. You don’t touch me, you barely talk to me, you haven’t so much as kissed me since I got here, let alone treat me like your wife. Like your equal. James warned me you’d do something like this, and I was stupid enough to insist he was wrong.”