Her eyes watered as she spoke, “And then he asked me to marry him and I said no. I can hear you asking me what I was I thinking, and the truth is, I don’t know,” she paused and shook her head. “I just know that no matter how much I love him, I can’t marry him right now.”

The only answer was the sound of Lexa’s ventilator.

She had never felt more alone.

“Lexa,” Persephone’s mouth quivered, and giant tears blurred her vision. She pressed a kiss to her best friend’s hand, whispering, “I need you.”

Suddenly, the smell of wildflowers permeated the air, bitter citrus and mint. Persephone went rigid and collected herself as quickly as she could.

“Mother.”

She cringed when she spoke. It was obvious she’d been crying. She didn’t turn to look at Demeter. “What are you doing?”

“I heard about Lexa,” she said. “I came to see if you were okay.”

She’d been in the hospital going on two weeks. If Demeter was really concerned, she would have showed up sooner.

“I’m fine.”

She felt her mother move closer.

“Hades would not help her?”

Again, Persephone tensed. She hated this question, hated it because so many people assumed Hades would help, hated it because she’d let herself believe she might become an exception to his rule, hated it because he was the reason she had to say no.

“He said it was not possible,” she whispered.

She released Lexa’s hand and turned to look at her mother. The goddess had appeared in her mortal form and wore a tailored yellow dress. Her golden hair was sculpted into a tight ponytail that curled at the end.

“Why are you really here?” Persephone asked.

“Is it so hard to believe I am concerned for you?”

“Yes.”

“I have only ever had your best interest in mind, even if you refuse to see it.”

Persephone rolled her eyes. “We are not having this conversation, mother. I made my choice.”

“How will you live your life beside the god who let your best friend die?”

Persephone flinched. She thought about the threads he hid on his skin, and the lives he had exchanged to get them. She would be lying if she didn’t admit that she had wondered why he wouldn’t choose to trade Lexa’s soul for another.

Persephone narrowed her eyes, suddenly suspicious. “If I find out you had anything to do with this—”

“You’ll what?” Demeter goaded. “Go on.”

“I will never forgive you.”

Demeter smiled coldly. “Daughter, for that threat to work, I would need to want forgiveness.”

Persephone ignored the pain of Demeter’s words.

“I did not hurt Lexa. Given the circumstances, I think you should consider—can a daughter of spring truly be death’s bride? Can you stand beside the god who let your friend die?”