Persephone woke to find herself in a real bed, though the light pouring in over her body was actual sunlight and not the glow of the underworld. The air was dry and warm. Summer. Someone had dressed her in a simple tunic and wrapped a bandage around her arm. She pressed lightly over the bandage and felt no pain. Her fingernails picked at it until she found its end and unraveled it.

A puckered white scar ran across her arm where Demeter’s arrowhead must have grazed her skin. She ran her fingertips over it, frowning, then flinched when she looked properly at her own arms: gaunt, the muscle wasted away. “No, no, no,” she murmured, her hands trembling.

She tried to leave the bed, but her legs refused to support her weight, and so she stumbled, finding herself on the floor. The ceiling swam above her, and she closed her eyes, counting petals under her breath.

Two women rushed into the room and exclaimed over her, tutting. They wore Hades’ colors, a strip of black sewn into their clothes, an insignia that resembled a three-headed dog stitched over their left shoulders. Persephone looked at their faces but saw only strangers. She missed Xenia and her kind smile.

“Where am I?” Persephone asked.

“You are in Epirus, mistress, and this estate is owned by Hades,” said one of the women. The servants plied her with nectar and ambrosia and bade her to remain in bed. Persephone would not have allowed them to confine her thus, save that her legs simply wouldn’t obey her. She was forced to stay, fuming, and eventually drifted off into a restless slumber.

She dreamed in images, for the first time since the night of the fire. In her dreams, the poisoned arrow struck her not in the arm but in her heart, and her ichor flowed freely over the soft loam of the earth.

The next time she woke, she was not alone.

It was mid-morning, judging by the angle of the light. Persephone looked over to see Hades seated by a window, the sunlight streaming over her pale face. She had a few new freckles on her arms, as though she’d been spending more time in the sun. Hades wore gray; the color was so uncommon on her that Persephone had to blink to make sure she hadn’t been mistaken.

As though sensing Persephone’s gaze, Hades turned and smiled. “You’re awake. Thank Gaia.”

“What day is it?” Persephone asked.

Hades paused for a moment before responding. “In the time you’ve been unconscious, babes have grown into men.”

“What?” Persephone leapt out of bed, or tried to. Her weakness had not yet left her, and she still wasn’t used to her new limitations.

Hades hurried over and took her arm. “Easy.”