Hermes nodded and lifted Persephone into a bridal carry. She wrapped one arm around his neck, the other holding onto her possessions.

“Don’t look down,” he said, and then he was off, the wings on his sandals beating rapidly.

The Styx was a pale ribbon below them, her grove a faint smattering of trees in the distance. Hades’ palace glittered, a little more coldly than usual, as if rebuking her for her betrayal.

Persephone’s stomach roiled, and she leaned her head against Hermes’ chest, closing her eyes. She belonged beneath the sun and the rain. When was the last time she’d felt rain on her skin?

“We’re nearing the transition point,” Hermes said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind rushing past them.

Persephone took a deep breath. There was a fizzing pop in her ears, and her stomach dropped. Even with her eyes shut, she felt the sun touching her skin for the first time in over a year. She opened her eyes but had to immediately shut them again. The sky was too bright, blinding her.

Hermes’ feet touched solid ground, and he gently let her go. Persephone clung to him, her eyes still screwed shut.

“My baby!”

Someone pulled Persephone away, forcing her to look up. Persephone gasped in shock, too stunned to plaster a smile on her face. Demeter held her at arm’s length. Her face looked cadaverous, her wrists brittle as a bird’s. But even as Persephone stared, Demeter began changing, a healthy flush returning to her skin.

Persephone looked to Hermes in confusion. Hades had said—she’d made him promise, hadn’t she? How could Demeter be here but not Zeus?

Hermes had landed at one of the highest points around. The sea shimmered in the distance, colored a deep cerulean blue. All around them were rocky cliffs and shrubs, dotted with trees. It would have been beautiful and welcoming, had Demeter not been there.

Hermes glanced aside, not meeting her gaze. “You should be with your mother,” he mumbled.

“Hermes!” Persephone said in a whisper.

“What has she done to you?” Demeter cried, placing her hand on Persephone’s cheek. “Look at how pale you are, how cold!”

Persephone resisted the urge to move and closed her eyes whilst her stomach roiled. She didn’t feel cold. If anything, it was much too hot beneath the sun, its rays burning her exposed skin.

Demeter pinched her cheek, hard, before letting her go. “Thank you, Hermes, a thousandfold, for returning my daughter to her rightful place.”

Hermes nodded. “Of course,” he said. He glanced at Persephone.

Persephone stared at him, willing him to read her eyes, willing him to change his mind and to do as Hades had bidden.

But Hermes either did not know how to read her or did not care. He leapt into the air once more, waving as he departed.