Once he was gone, Demeter turned a saccharine smile on Persephone. “We must get you home at once.” She clapped her hands. “Ladies!”

A trio of mounted nymphs approached, two of them leading additional horses. Demeter took one and nodded at Persephone to take the other.

Persephone remained in place, swaying a little on her feet. She’d wished for this moment for so long, but not like this—never like this! If she didn’t move, it wouldn’t be real. Perhaps she was asleep, lost in her earth dreams and ready to wake by Hades’ side—

“Persephone!”

Persephone snapped her head back up. There was nowhere to run. The nymphs flanked her, and before them Demeter waited, impatiently tapping her nails on her horse blanket.

Each second she kept her mother waiting would only cost her later. But she found herself frozen, unable to summon her old sense of self-preservation. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“Home, of course, you foolish child.”

“I want to see my father,” Persephone said.

“Zeus has more important matters to attend to than the likes of you.”

Persephone glanced around and looked more closely at the nymphs. She could not recall their names, though she could have sworn she’d seen their faces before.

One was tall and lanky, as though she hadn’t quite grown into her limbs. She wore a blue chiton, trimmed with yellow. The second had red water fern in her hair and might have belonged to a river nearby. The third looked more like a child of the earth, short with powerfully muscled arms and legs.

If Demeter had chosen them to accompany her here, they would be of no help to Persephone.

“Come now, girl. We’ve tarried long enough,” Demeter said, her tone honey-sweet.

Persephone gathered up her chiton in one hand and hopped astride her mount. Hermes had taken them through an unfamiliar exit of the underworld, and she did not immediately recognize her surroundings—grassy cliffs and weathered paths but no buildings or signs of habitation within view.

“Finally,” Demeter said, turning her horse to head down the path. The color had returned to her hair, and she looked much like her usual exalted self. Had Persephone imagined her mother’s transformation? No. But then why would Demeter make herself look so sickly? To arouse pity?

The nymphs moved into a diamond formation, with Persephone at the center, unable to break free. They rode for some time, passing through the deserted countryside. Persephone kept looking at all the life around her, from the various grasses forming the patchy scrub to the occasional fir tree. It took her a little while to adjust to the different life signatures, but once she slipped back in touch with her old habits, it felt like she’d never left.

“Stop that,” Demeter said.

Persephone jerked to attention. “What’s wrong, Mother?”