“I was so close to living here forever,” said Ingrid with a sigh, and we made ourselves comfortable under a golden tree with rubies the size of apples hanging from its branches. “You’re so lucky.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” I said, digging my toes into the black sand. “More like nepotism.”

She laughed, and as she settled beside the trunk of the golden tree, I picked one of the rubies and sniffed it. Nothing. If Henry could create these beautiful jewels, why couldn’t he at least give them the illusion of having a scent? I kept the flowers he’d left for me in the Underworld in a crystal bowl in the middle of my closet, and even after all this time, they still smelled like candy. Then again, they were real. Sort of.

I hesitated. “What would you have done if Henry never loved you as much as you wanted him to?”

“We can’t choose how much someone else loves us,” said Ingrid as she dipped a toe into the river and shivered. “He picked me for the test because he thought he’d come to love me like that in time. He wouldn’t have picked you if he didn’t think the same, you know.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” I mumbled, and when Ingrid pressed me, I told her everything that had happened since we’d returned from Cronus’s cavern. The fight we’d had, what he’d said to me, how he’d told me to leave—and then changed his mind when he’d found out that James and I hadn’t done anything after all. How we’d been cordial since then, but hardly husband and wife. How afraid I was that we never would be.

By the time I was done, Ingrid had her arm around me, and I stared at the jewel in my hand as if it held the answers to every question I’d ever had. “I met Henry when I was seven,” she said as she toyed with a lock of my hair. “It was the early twentieth century, and my parents were German immigrants. We didn’t have any other family in America, so after they died, I lived in an orphanage in New York City.”

“I grew up in New York, too,” I said faintly, and Ingrid smiled.

“I think Henry has a weakness for New Yorkers,” she said. “And girls without much family. I think he feels like it’d be easier for us to love him if we’re already lonely.”

I shook my head. She was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier to remember how much Henry hated himself. “I could’ve had a huge family back in the city and loved him all the same.”

“Try telling him that,” said Ingrid wryly. “He’s always been that way, you know. Convinced he isn’t worthy of being loved, even though I grew up with him. We used to take walks together. He wasn’t in this form—I mean, he looked like a boy around my age, and for a long time I thought he was. He was my best friend. We used to wander the streets together, and we’d talk about everything—steal apples from the merchants and get into so much trouble.” The skin around her eyes wrinkled with happiness. “He made my miserable little life worthwhile. He told me who he really was the day I left the orphanage, and he took me to his home in the forest. It was beautiful. You’ve been there?”

I nodded. “Eden Manor.”

“It was the first real home I’d had since my parents died.” Ingrid took my hand and threaded her slim fingers through mine. Her bones felt brittle, like a bird’s. As if squeezing too hard would break them. “He told me about Persephone. And he told me that while she was his past, he wanted me to be his future.” She shook her head. “It’s such a ridiculous thing to remember, but I do. And every time he comes to visit me, I think about that and how he wasn’t just saying it because he thought I needed to hear it. He loved all of us in his own way, Kate. Me, the others who died, you—but look at how many of us he’s lost. Look at what he went through with Persephone. He thinks he’s responsible for all of it, you know, and that guilt isn’t going to go away overnight. Can you blame him for holding back?”

I swallowed. No, I couldn’t. And I’d had no idea he’d loved the other girls like he claimed to love me. All of that loss…everything I’d gone through with my mother a dozen times over, but Henry didn’t have cancer to blame. “You should have passed,” I said softly. “It sounds like you two would have been really happy together.”

“Probably.” Ingrid’s smile faded as she focused on the running water. “But I didn’t, and there’s no going back now. I want him to be happy, Kate.”

“Me, too,” I mumbled. “I’m trying. I really am, but it feels like he doesn’t want me.”

“He’s hurting. Henry’s never been very good with expressing his emotions, and sometimes that takes patience. Not that I think you don’t have patience,” she said quickly. “Only that he takes more than the usual amount.”

“I’m staying,” I said. “For now, at least. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“What if it doesn’t need fixing?” Ingrid focused on me, her green eyes wide. “What if it’s already perfect underneath the surface, and the surface is what’s getting in the way?”

I blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“You think the problem is that Henry doesn’t love you,” said Ingrid, and I shrugged. “But I’m telling you—everyone’s told you that he does. So you have two choices—either accept that you’re wrong and let Henry love you in his own way, or force both of you to be miserable until you realize he loves you anyway.”

I snorted. “That doesn’t sound like much of a choice.”

“Of course it is. You can choose to be happy or you can choose to be miserable, and that’s completely within your power. Henry doesn’t have to do a thing.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” I said. “Or what if you’re overestimating how he feels?”

“Then you’ll give Henry the chance to really fall in love with you.” Ingrid beamed. “That’d be fun, too, wouldn’t it?”

I ran my fingertips across the cold surface of the ruby. It was even shaped like an apple. “He’s busy with the battle. They all are.”

“Not for much longer though. And you can either make excuses or you can suck it up and see things from his perspective, and you’ll both be happier for it. You don’t have to do anything differently. Just think about what he’s going through, and be yourself and let both of you have the chance to be happy. Everything else will fall into place.”

I was silent. That was what I’d been trying to do, but nothing had changed. That night we’d spent together in Eden Manor—aphrodisiac or no, my desire to be with him had been all-consuming, and it was the first honest thing I’d let myself feel since I’d arrived at the manor. That passion was real. And the way he’d kissed me—

I’d been so sure it was real for him, too. I wanted that back. I wanted those kisses, those touches, the way he’d looked at me. I wanted to be that person to him again.

“What do you think would happen if I just walked up to him and kissed him?” I said, and Ingrid laughed.

“I think he’d let you. What if he’s waiting for you to do that, Kate? What if he’s waiting for a sign the same way you are, and you’re both circling each other, waiting, waiting, waiting?”

“Then I guess one of us better get a move on,” I muttered, and Ingrid hugged me.

“That’s my girl.”

I would have been better at this if he helped, if he told me what he was feeling instead of leaving it to my imagination, but I tried anyway. From that afternoon on, instead of worrying about the moments of silence between us, I watched him. He wasn’t floundering for something to say or ignoring me. His eyes were distant and his brow furrowed, and I finally let myself admit that it wasn’t because of me. It was the battle, Calliope, Cronus—anything but me. Because with me, at least he smiled.

And instead of focusing on every time he didn’t touch me, I burned into my memory every time he did. His arm around me as he slept, the brush of his fingertips against my cheek, even the way he looked at me after a particularly long day. He didn’t kiss me; he didn’t hug me. He didn’t tell me he loved me again. But eventually I let myself hope that he did anyway. He was trying in his own way, and that had to be enough for now. Because if it wasn’t, we would both be miserable, and he didn’t deserve that. Neither did I.