Demeter slapped her across the face, hard. It was nothing in terms of physical pain; Persephone knew the pain in her heart would linger for far longer.

“You have no idea what trials I’ve been through to find you,” Demeter said, her voice dangerously low. “And for what? To be insulted by a mere seedling of a girl?”

“I’m a woman grown. A married woman.” Persephone looked past Demeter to the door. It was made of sturdy oak and iron and could be barred from the outside. “I know what you did. During the war. Hades told me.”

Demeter froze for a moment, then recovered. “You’re speaking nonsense. Hades lies; everyone knows that.”

“That’s not what they say, Mother. I’ll tell them. I’ll tell everyone how you were ready to betray them.”

Demeter laughed, short and harsh. “You think anyone would believe your word over mine? And for what? Some inconsequential bit of ancient history?” She sneered. “The Titans are long gone. Zeus needs my powers. He has no reason to listen to you on this or any other matter. You will stay here, under guard, until I return from Olympus with an annulment for this farce Hades calls a marriage. Until that time, you will see no one and speak to no one. Do you understand?”

“You can’t do this to me,” Persephone said. “I—I was given to her. Zeus promised. He gave his word. He won’t take it back!”

Demeter looked at her evenly. “He’ll do what he must.” She picked up the torch again, holding the remnants of Persephone’s finery in her other hand.

“Wait!”

Demeter slowly turned.

Persephone tottered to her feet. Hating herself with every step, she walked forward and then lowered herself to her knees, bending her head in supplication. “Please forgive my foolishness,” she said, the words coming haltingly to her lips. “I have not thanked you enough for all that you did for me, for coming to my aid.” She leaned forward and prostrated herself like a foreigner, her forehead almost touching the floor. “Thank you,” she said, breathing in the musty scent of old cheese and parsnips.

Demeter left her stewing there for what felt like an eternity. “I’ll see you when I return,” she said.

“Mother!” Persephone leapt to her feet, struggling to hold the remnants of her chiton over her chest as she rushed to Demeter’s side. “If you must keep me under guard until your business is concluded, I will understand. But it has been a year since I’ve seen the sun. Please, might I stay some place above ground?”

Demeter gestured to the tiny grate. “You have your view.”

“But Mother—”

Demeter ignored her and left the cell, closing the door behind her. Persephone flung herself at it, crying out as her shoulder struck the unyielding wood. She heard the bar slide into place, sealing her inside.