Persephone couldn’t really explain how that made her feel, but it didn’t feel good. The best way to explain it was...she felt embarrassed. She felt like she should have known Hades was going to be there on Lexa’s first day, but the God of the Dead hadn’t said anything about that this morning when he helped her get ready.

“That was nice of him,” she commented distractedly.

“Apparently he does it for every new employee. I mean, I knew Hades wasn’t like other gods, but to greet his staff the way he did?” Lexa shook her head. “It’s just...so evident he loves you.”

Persephone’s gaze rose to meet hers. “Why do you say that?”

“Everywhere I looked today I could see how he was inspired by you.”

Persephone knitted her brows. “What do you mean?”

Lexa shrugged. “It’s...a little hard to explain. He just...uses some of the words you use when he talks about helping people. He talks about hope and forgiveness and second chances.”

The more Lexa talked; the more pressure Persephone felt in her chest.

Her best friend giggled. “Then there are the...physical things.”

Persephone raised a brow, and Lexa burst into laughter.

“No, not that! Physical things like...pictures.”

“Pictures?”

It was Lexa’s turn to look confused. “Yeah. He had pictures of you in his office. Didn’t you know that?”

No, she didn’t know Hades had an office at The Cypress Foundation, much less pictures of her.

Where did he get pictures of her? She didn’t have pictures of him. Suddenly, Persephone wasn’t interested in talking about this anymore.

“Can I ask you something?” Lexa said.

Persephone waited, and sort of dreaded the question.

“You’ve always wanted notoriety for your work, so what’s the problem with all this attention?”

Persephone sighed.

“I want to be respected in my field,” she said. “Now I just feel like a possession of Hades. Every article is Hades this and Hades that. No one even uses my name. They call me mortal.”

“They would use your name if they knew you were a goddess,” Lexa supplied.

“And I would have recognition for my Divinity and not my work.”

“What’s so wrong about that?” she asked. “You might be known for your Divinity initially, but it could lead to being known for your work.”

Persephone couldn’t explain why it was important for her to be known for writing, it just was. She’d spent her whole life being horrible at the one thing she was born to be, and despite that not being her fault, she’d worked really hard in college. She wanted someone to see that hard work, and not just because she wrote about and dated Hades.

“If I were you, I’d leave this life without a second thought,” Lexa said.

Persephone blanched, surprised. “It’s way more complicated than that, Lex.”