“Mother!” Persephone cried out, searching for a poker or a long-handled spoon.

Demeter blocked her way to the fire. Behind her, Persephone watched as the pomegranate’s skin blackened and began to blister. Persephone grabbed a pail of water from near where Kallon was working, and in the pail a severed fish head bobbed up, turning to stare at Persephone with its dead, glassy eyes.

“What do you think you are doing?” Demeter asked.

“Stand aside, Mother.”

Demeter folded her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. The fire crackled behind her, the orange flames contrasting with Demeter’s white peplos.

Persephone took a step forward, then another. The pail seemed to grow impossibly heavy in her hands, and her fingers slipped, dropping the pail and spilling water and fish guts all over the kitchen floor.

Persephone braced her hand against a nearby door frame, the world spinning around her. One side of her chiton clung wetly to her leg, cold and reeking of fish.

“What have you done to me?” Persephone asked, unable to move as Demeter approached her.

“I’ve only ever done what was necessary,” Demeter said.

Persephone’s heartbeat was a war drum pounding in her head, her eyelids too heavy to hold open. Her fingers lost their grip on the door frame, and she fell gracelessly to the floor, her shoulder smacking into the wooden slats and scattering droplets all around her.

23

LIKE OLD TIMES

Persephone woke to find herself on a hard wooden bed, her head aching, her clothes damp and stinking of fish. She instantly felt she was not alone and sat upright, not managing to stem a gasp of dismay as she took in her surroundings.

She’d been taken to a room adjacent to the root cellar, set below ground, though with a tiny grate at the top of one wall which let in air and light. Standing at the door was her mother, her face partially illuminated by a small torch. Demeter set the torch into a sconce on the wall and moved forward, blocking the light, so that her shadow ran long before her.

“Don’t you remember what I said the last time?” Demeter asked.

“I haven’t been bad,” Persephone whispered.

Demeter laughed. “Oh, but you have. And what’s more, I said that if you ever humiliated me before the gods, that would be enough to see you back here.”

“You sent me away!”

Demeter sniffed. “I did nothing of the sort. I merely said you were to leave me in peace for a while. You know how your hysterics give me pains in my head. How was I to know that you would run off and get yourself captured?”

“I tried to escape,” Persephone said as her gaze roamed the borders of her cell. It felt even smaller than it had as a child.