The man quailed but did as he was told, speaking quickly and walking even more quickly. “The number of new arrivals has almost doubled since the same time last year,” he said.

Persephone frowned. “Is there a war?”

He shook his head.

They entered the dining hall together, but Hades was nowhere to be seen.

Persephone hailed a serving girl. “Where is your queen?” she asked.

“She has gone to the Plain of Judgment,” the girl said.

Persephone looked to the scribe. “Come on, then.”

The man had seemed somewhat relieved to find Hades gone, but now he turned to Persephone and gulped. “Horses make me nauseous.”

“We’ll just have to manage,” Persephone said.

She took a torch and went to the stables, all but dragging the scribe behind her, and borrowed a chariot. The man hugged his scrolls to his chest and hung onto the chariot rails, white-knuckled.

She found Hades on a small rise overlooking the Plain of Judgment. Persephone hopped out of the chariot whilst it was still moving, leaving the scribe to bring the horses to a complete stop, and walked over to where Hades was standing.

Hades did not turn to look at her as Persephone approached. She seemed small against the vast surroundings, the Tyrian purple of her chiton appearing almost black under the night sky. The wind pulled at her skirts and flickered the torch that Persephone held to light her way.

Persephone glanced down at the line of the dead below them. It was not just the very young and old, as was customary at this time of year, but whole families, including adults who looked to be in their prime. All showed some degree of emaciation, their hair falling out, cheeks sunken and hollow, their features lit by the torches they carried.

“A famine?” Persephone asked.

“I knew the numbers were unusually high,” Hades said, as though talking to herself. “I should have paid closer attention. The ranges were consistent with natural fluctuation. But now...”

“Queen Hades,” the scribe said, dropping to his knees a few steps behind them. “I’ve looked at the figures for the last few months, and the deaths keep increasing. The growth seems to be exponential.”

“What does that mean?” Persephone asked.

Hades turned to her at last, her eyes completely black from edge to edge. “It means someone up there is not doing her duty,” she said, her voice flat, devoid of affect.

Despite knowing she was not the target of Hades’ ire, Persephone trembled. She looked down again. There could be no mistaking it; these people had all been starving before they’d died. “There has to be some other explanation,” she said. “My mother would not abandon her duty, not when this is the result. Demeter knows that harvest quotas must be met—”

“Demeter is a selfish malakismeni, and she always has been!” Hades snapped.