“You must not have tried very hard, dear. Even mortals manage to leave the underworld somehow, and you have the pedigree of Olympus behind you.”

“I tried—” Persephone bit off her words in frustration. It would not matter what she said. It never did. “You poisoned me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. A sleeping draught, nothing more.” Demeter approached her. “Look at yourself,” she said. She grabbed the front of Persephone’s chiton, pulling so hard that Persephone staggered up off the bed. Demeter ripped the fabric and then tore at her necklace, the gold one that Hades had given to her on their wedding day, but it would not come undone.

“What witchcraft is this?” she demanded, still trying to wrench it apart. The chain dug into Persephone’s neck every time her mother tugged on it, leaving its imprint on her skin.

“I don’t know,” Persephone said, trying to hold herself apart from Demeter but unable to shy away.

“Spells. Sorcery.” Demeter’s lip curled as she tightened her grip, removing any slack from the chain, her knuckles digging into the soft hollow of Persephone’s throat. “The rumors must be false. You went to her willingly, bound yourself to her like a slave branded by her master.”

Persephone’s hands went to her throat as she fought to breathe.

Demeter watched Persephone struggling, her pupils large in the dark. She was radiant in her malice, golden-haired and glowing, her lips upturned.

She twisted her grip on the chain and then threw Persephone across the room. Persephone slammed into the nearest wall before falling to the floor.

She did not have the strength to get up.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” Demeter asked, walking to her, standing over her with hands on her hips.

Persephone wheezed. She planted her palm on the floor, leaning on it to help herself sit up. “...It’s complicated,” she croaked, reaching up to feel the divots on her throat where the chain had left its mark.

Demeter scoffed. She leaned down and seized her jeweled diadem, ripping out strands of Persephone’s hair in the process. She grabbed at Persephone’s wrist and broke the clasp of her bracelet, sending a score of beads bouncing across the stone floor, and tore off her belt inlaid with sapphires.

“You reek of filth and excess,” Demeter said. “Hades may have made you her whore, but here you are my daughter, and you will comport yourself as such.”

Persephone gathered the torn edges of her chiton, clasping them to her chest. Tears streamed down her face. “Why are you doing this?”

“You are not Hades’ wife. Zeus had no power to sell you off without my agreement. You are not a queen of the underworld. You are simply my selfish, ignorant daughter, and I am the person with the misfortune to call myself your mother.”

“That’s not my fault!”