Demeter looked around at the mess Monime had left, from the fallen bowl and strewn flowers to the chalice nestled under her dying plants. The servants would have to burn it all to avoid contamination, but it was a small price to pay for her successful trial. She made a note to herself to send Artemis a gift basket for her fruitful advice.

That night, Demeter left her home and made her way to the old barn, some distance downhill. Once inside, she went downstairs to the cellar, holding a torch to light the way and humming a few bars from a marching song as she walked.

She nodded to the drakon positioned outside Persephone’s room. It had been no small task to get the enormous beast down the stairwell, but they had managed, somehow, emptying the cellar of almost all its foodstuffs in order to make space for it. Persephone’s room took up the other half of the floor.

Demeter transferred the torch to her left hand and unlocked the cell door before sliding back the bar that held it shut. Once inside Persephone’s room, she set the torch in a wall sconce and dusted her palms on her skirts.

The room stank of fish, and Demeter wrinkled her nose. She glanced at the discarded chiton that was the source of the smell and resisted the temptation to simply burn it on the spot.

Persephone was sprawled on her side on the bed, seemingly still asleep. Demeter was struck, not for the first time, by the girl’s resemblance to her father. She had his lips. Sensuous. Cruel. A bruise still marked her throat, a sign of her degeneracy, not quite covered over by the other, fresher marks made by the chain around her neck.

Demeter raised the hem of her gown and delicately prodded the girl with her foot.

Nothing.

“Persephone,” she said.

Not even the flicker of an eyelid.

Demeter brushed back the hair from Persephone’s face and slapped her cheek. The sound echoed in the small cell.

Demeter watched the imprint of her hand fading rapidly from Persephone’s skin, and still the girl did not wake. She placed her hand on the back of Persephone’s neck and pinched, hard.

“By root and stem, bestir yourself.”

Finally, she saw some changes. Persephone’s breathing quickened, and her eyelids fluttered before she roused herself sufficiently to sit up. “Mother,” she said, her voice hoarse.

The girl was still confused, half-asleep. Demeter saw the depths of the world in her eyes. She sniffed. As if anyone of consequence had the time to spend in hibernation.

“I’ve come with great news,” Demeter said. She sat down on the end of the bed, as there were no other soft furnishings, forcing Persephone to move to accommodate her.

“What news?” Persephone asked. She blinked and glanced at the door. “What day is it?”

“I’ve found the perfect wedding gift for your new lover.”