Persephone waved Xenia off and proceeded to do it herself. She unfastened her fibulae, and the top of her chiton fell to her hips. She then unwound her strophion and handed it and her fibulae to Xenia for safekeeping. Her belt held her chiton in place like a layered skirt.

“Stand facing the tree,” Hades said.

Persephone walked to the willow. Its bark was gray and brown, striated with moss. A beetle climbed its trunk, taking no notice of her.

Xenia took her left wrist and bound it to a branch, tugging on the restraints to make sure they were secure. She did the same with Persephone’s right wrist.

Arms outstretched, Persephone felt as though she were poised to take wing. The air was cool against her naked back, and she shivered.

“Xenia, please count for me,” Hades said.

“Of course, my queen.”

This would never have happened on the surface. Demeter would not have allowed it, and besides, Persephone could not be punished this way whilst standing upon Gaia’s earth—she would simply sink her toes into the dirt and let her mind drift, as stoic and patient as the willow before her. But this soil was not her soil, and this tree did not know her name. So she waited, her muscles trembling with the effort of holding still.

The first blow struck between her shoulder blades, leaving thin lines of fire on her back. She jolted and pressed her forehead against the tree, willing it to lend her support.

“One,” Xenia said.

She could not survive this a hundred times; she would go mad. What was Hades thinking? She was her consort, not some common thief or vandal! She did not deserve—

The whip whistled through the air again, its tails leaving their mark on Persephone’s back. She cried out, grateful for the emptiness around them and the knowledge that no one else would hear her.

“Two.”

Her skin screamed to her. She had only been flogged once before, and it had not hurt half as much as this. She had carelessly left her lantern in the fields, and it had burnt half the crop. Then, her punishment had been justified, the lesson clear.

This?

This just felt petty.

She willed herself to relax, for her muscles to soften against the force of the blow, but she could not. Just hearing the soft whisper of the whip made her tense.

“Three.”

Tears rolled freely down her face. The willow bore all her weight now, as she could not hold herself upright without assistance. Every nerve sang out to her, and it felt like the heat on her back would set her aflame.

She should’ve taken Kronos’s bargain, consequences be damned. He had true power; he would’ve been able to help her where Theseus and Pirithous had failed. If he had kept his word. If she could have trusted him. If, if, if...

“Four.”