Hades strode out of her study with Xenia trailing closely behind. “I must. An armed retinue would cause a diplomatic incident. I cannot let Demeter paint herself as a victim.” She went to her armory and stood in the anteroom devoted to her personal effects, considering her options.

Xenia reached for Hades’ cuirass.

“No,” Hades said. “No armor. No provocations.”

Xenia lowered her hand. “Except when you took her.”

Hades slowly turned her head toward her, and Xenia quailed. “I gave you a task, did I not?”

Xenia pressed her lips together, then dropped her gaze and left Hades alone.

No armor, but... she could not go defenseless. Her hand hovered over the hilt of her favorite sword, then moved across to another blade, shorter and lighter, its scabbard inlaid with gold. She could always say it was ceremonial. A wafer-thin defense, but she intended not to draw it, if that were at all possible.

She strapped the sword around her waist, already missing the comforting weight of her leathers. She had made the right decision—the only one, she told herself, as she led Alastor from the stables and swung herself over his back. Emerging from the depths with all the deities of the underworld at her side would bring a reprisal she was not prepared to face, not even for Persephone’s sake.

If Demeter hurt her, though...

Hades took the exit into the cave nearest Demeter’s estate, gritting her teeth as the air coalesced and then thinned as Alastor emerged on the other side. She inhaled, breathing in the dry heat. And they called her realm unbearable.

Alastor snorted, tossing his head. Hades held onto an enspelled lantern, using it to light their path through the cave. The naturally phosphorescent lichens seemed much smaller in number compared to the last time Hades had passed by.

She’d known even then that Persephone was something special.

Hades felt the siren song of Persephone’s necklace calling to her as a faint itch at the back of her neck. She nudged Alastor onward, trusting him to find his own way in the semi-darkness.

For miles she rode, pushing Alastor as hard as she dared. His flanks heaved for breath under her knees, but she didn’t dare stop.

She knew she had to be close when she could almost hear the necklace singing, like a hum running through her teeth. A building loomed in the distance, its thatched roof catching the light of the half moon.

She slowed and dismounted, briefly running her hand through Alastor’s mane. “Thank you,” she said and continued on foot, glancing around for any sign of Demeter’s guards.

Wait. That smell. Fire?

Hades broke into a run, heedless of the noise it caused. She reached the building, where smoke billowed out from a small grate set close to the ground.