Hades’ gaze never left her face. She watched, enraptured, as Persephone sucked the juice from her fingertips.

The seeds were honey sweet, cut through with an acidic tang. When Persephone swallowed, she could taste their bitter edge.

“Is it done?” she asked. She didn’t feel any different. Hungry, perhaps, longing for more of that tart sweetness.

“It is done,” Hades said and smiled, her expression uncharacteristically tremulous. “May I?”

In response, Persephone leaned down and kissed her, wrapping her arms around Hades’ neck. Hades kissed her back, and for the first time, it felt like coming home.

EPILOGUE

Summer ended, and Persephone returned to the underworld to sit by Hades’ side and to be her wife in all respects. When the land above had grown cold and bitter, she journeyed once more to Epirus to make a home worthy of a queen.

The cycles continued, each parting bittersweet, each reunion joyous and passionate. She trained herself not to pine for the other world after every transition, knowing she would return soon enough.

During one blisteringly cold winter, she lounged in Hades’ artificial solarium, nestled on a fur-lined kline. Daedalus and Perdix had entered a kind of arms race for architectural glory, each seeking to outdo the other in scope and prestige. The solarium had been Daedalus’s project, a glass-sided chamber built on the rooftop along the east wing. From here, one could see the rolling green hills of the Elysian Fields, whilst being warmed by the enchanted ‘sun’ that hung above. Whilst it boasted a few shelves lined with scrolls, Hades had agreed not to bring her work into the room.

The drakon’s ghost huddled at Persephone’s feet, its head on its forearms, its serrated tail curled around its body, yellow eyes shut in a state of semi-hibernation. In winter, it seemed to prefer the false sun to the warmth of the Phlegethon, and she’d not had the heart to dislodge it from the solarium.

Persephone leafed through her correspondence. Few gods bothered to write to her in the underworld, choosing instead to make their presence known during the warmer months. She worked her way through a pile of letters a hand’s width deep, throwing each one to the side once she had glanced at it.

From the kline opposite her, Hades set down the scroll she’d been reading and looked up. “May I ask why you are making such a mess?”

Persephone scrunched up the final letter and threw it against the wall. It bounced and slid close to the drakon’s face, but the creature did not stir. “They’re all from Mother. Well, her scribes, anyway. More than one. I don’t think she even bothered to sign these herself. All the handwriting is different.”

“A century has not yet passed.”

“She knows that, I’m sure.”

Hades leaned forward, resting her head on her palm. “What do you intend to do?”