The man shrugged. “Appearances can be deceiving.” He trudged over to a small cabinet, miraculously managing not to touch anything whilst doing so, and moved several pieces of armor in order to uncover it. He took another key from his belt and unlocked the cabinet, then returned the key and donned a pair of thick leather gloves, the type used in blacksmithing.

Demeter rolled her eyes at this theater, but she waited all the same, unable to tear her gaze away from what he was doing.

She was almost disappointed when the man brought out a small clay jar, stoppered and sealed with wax. He gently set it down on top of the cabinet.

“That’s it?” Demeter asked.

“The poison of the Lernaean hydra,” the man said. “Strong enough to fell the most powerful hero. Even an immortal,” he added slyly.

Demeter considered the drab container. “How can you prove this?”

The man brought one gloved hand to hover over his chest, careful not to touch the cloth of his tunic with the glove. “My word and my reputation are all I have,” he said. “Strike me down if you find me a liar.”

Demeter worried at her bottom lip, calculating. She would have to conduct her own tests, of course—though not here. She had no real suspicion that the man was a fraud. He’d come highly recommended by Artemis herself.

They haggled for some time over the price but eventually settled on an exorbitant fee. Demeter left some drachmae as a deposit and signed a contract to have the rest delivered.

The merchant packaged her goods carefully, wrapping it in three layers of oilskin and placing that into a leather pouch.

Outside the shop it was only slightly cooler than it had been inside, but despite the oppressive heat, Demeter strode along with a spring in her step. Her precious purchase she held cradled in one arm, just like she’d held Persephone once, so long ago.

She couldn’t wait to test it.

“It was so kind of you to join me on such short notice,” Demeter said, pouring the wine herself.

Monime tittered, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. “No trouble at all.” She looked around the courtyard with wide eyes, no doubt trying to remember every detail in order to lord it over her fellow nymphs when she left. Despite the recent drought, the topiary here were lush and green, the grass soft and inviting. They reclined under a shade cloth attached to the main house, the platters before them groaning with produce. Dining with Demeter was an honor granted only to a select few.

Monime was a safe choice. Few would miss her. Demeter tried to avoid looking down at Monime’s chalice, its rim carefully coated with a thin layer of the venom.