One gray morning, like so many other mornings before it, she was guided not to the library but to the back of the palace. Xenia joined her in a chariot, her eyes sad and her expression grim, giving Persephone forewarning of what was to come.

As the horses pulled away from the palace, Persephone’s stomach dropped. The long wait had been intolerable, yes, but now that the day was finally here, this imminent anticipation was even worse.

The horses led them up a winding path encircling a large hill. From the top, she could see the great elm of false dreams to the east, the ever-burning fires of the river Phlegethon to the north, and Oceanus to the west. The view around them was charming—insomuch as the underworld could be charming—marred only by the knowledge of why she’d been brought here.

At the crest of the hill stood a magnificent willow, easily the height of eight men and just as broad. Its silvery leaves rustled in the wind as though it were sighing, and in its shadow the air seemed sweeter. Its foliage was trimmed so there was ample room to stand beneath it.

From this lofty height she saw Hades’ golden chariot from some distance away as it approached. The lay of the land was such that at the top of the hill one could easily distinguish people in the distance, but from below they would be quite obscured.

She didn’t have to wait long before Hades’ chariot arrived. Its rider wore a peplos as her gown today, of linen or some other sturdy material. Black, again.

Hades dismounted. Persephone’s gaze instantly went to the whip attached to her belt. It was made of braided leather, with multiple tails, each tipped with a small knot. Persephone pressed her palms against her thighs to stop them from trembling.

“Xenia,” Hades said by way of greeting. “Wife.” She walked to Persephone and cupped her cheek, tilting her face up.

This close to Hades, Persephone’s lips tingled. She almost thought—she wanted—

Hades’ finger traced a line down her cheek, but then she released her and stepped away. “Persephone, daughter of Zeus and Demeter, you have been convicted of attempting to leave the underworld without my express permission. On this day, I, Hades, will carry out your punishment, being one hundred lashes and a period of exposure, the length of which is to be contingent upon your actions.”

Listening to Hades recite her sentence brought back the memories of that day in the throne room, hearing it for the first time. Persephone clasped her hands together, her nails digging into her palms. She would not beg. She would not.

“Strip to the waist,” Hades said.