Demeter’s teeth glittered in her smile. “The Eleusinian Mysteries, dear. Have you not been reading your letters? The mortals like to celebrate your return to us with a festival.”

Persephone rubbed the spot on her arm where her flesh sometimes still ached. “Do you shoot an effigy of me at the finale, or is that part conveniently forgotten?”

Demeter scoffed. “That little thing. Are you still obsessed about it? Why, there’s not a mark on you.”

Not on her skin, not anymore, but her arm still ached during the heat of high summer. She’d never forgotten the look of anguish on Hades’ face, from a fear so deep it still remained lodged in her heart. “Your letters implied that you wanted to apologize,” Persephone said.

Demeter’s eyes widened. “Apologize? Whatever for?”

“Well—”

Demeter jabbed one ring-studded finger in her direction. “You ran off with your chthonic lover, a match I did not approve. Hades robbed me of your presence. And Zeus stole my parental rights. All of you should be apologizing to me.”

Persephone realized her hands were clawing into her thighs. She forced them to relax. “You shot a poisoned arrow at Hades. The same poison that killed the centaur Chiron.”

Demeter scoffed. “That again?”

“You stole decades from my life! Then and before. When I was a child,” Persephone said. She forced the words to leave her mouth. “You locked me in a cellar for years on end. What you did to me wasn’t right.”

Demeter shook her head. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a mother, dear.” She smiled slyly. “And now, I suppose you never will.”

Persephone was losing the thread of her sanity. “So it was fine then, everything you’ve ever done?”

“Everything I’ve done?” Demeter tilted her head slightly. “Everything I’ve done was to protect you from people like her.”

“Well, it didn’t work.”

“It’s not my fault you grew up to be a little slut.”

Persephone stood, pressing her knees together to stop them from shaking. “I see. In that case, I believe we should part. Thank you for your hospitality. Please don’t write to me again; I’ll ask the servants to burn any letters.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Goodbye, Mother.”

“That’s it?” Demeter asked, the legs of her kline screeching across the floor as she stood. “After all the sacrifices I made for you, all the tears I shed—for you!”

Demeter spoke to her departing back. Persephone forced herself not to turn around, putting one foot in front of the other. She was done. No more listening to her mother’s fervent rantings, no more accepting her distorted vision of the truth.

Demeter followed her to the door, continuing to screech, but Persephone refused to listen. She kept on walking, the frozen ground crunching underfoot. A door slammed. Persephone glanced back but saw no one behind her. She shook with relief.