The outer courtyard was littered with guests. It seemed like everyone in Olympus had been invited, including nymphs of the rivers, forests, and seas, and a few mortals. Persephone maintained a polite smile, even when some of the mortals passed too close and their acrid sweat offended her senses.

Once they had reached the palace proper, a servant announced both of them. “Demeter of the Grain and her daughter, Persephone.”

Her mother guided them through throngs of well-wishers toward the depths of the palace. Persephone followed, though her mind wandered. She ought to use this opportunity to reconnect with Athena and Artemis—it had been years since the three of them had been in the same place. The other guests, though...

“Greetings to you upon this wondrous day.”

Persephone turned to find Hephaestus watching her, his crooked smile endearingly shy. “And to you,” she said, trying not to stare at his leg. He’d strapped some kind of metal contraption to it, which allowed him to walk almost as if it were undamaged. The mechanics seemed more complex compared to the last time she’d seen him, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint any specific changes.

“A good day to you, Hephaestus,” Demeter said. “We have yet to speak with Zeus.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

Persephone felt his eyes upon them as they continued walking, heading toward Zeus’s throne room. Her cheeks grew hot, which she did not much like. “I wonder what he wanted,” she said.

“What do all gods want?” Demeter asked, her lovely face marred by a scowl. “Mind you dissuade him firmly.”

“Yes, Mother,” Persephone said, distracted by the graceful curve of the arches above them. The colonnades were decorated with carvings of nymphs and small animals, cavorting as they upheld the high ceiling. It reminded her of the solemn dignity of a forest canopy.

It was not long before they reached Zeus’s throne room. Her father, an immense hulk of a man, his face dwarfed by his beard, loomed larger than the earth herself. His voice boomed with the echo of thunder, his laughter emanating from his belly.

Hera was not by his side, only his true-born daughter Hebe, standing behind him with her hands clasped, her gaze wandering. Despite the vast hall filled with people, Persephone wondered if he might sometimes feel lonely.

“Kore!” Zeus said, still referring to Persephone by her childhood name. “Let me look at you. Where have you been keeping her all these years, Demeter?”

Demeter’s forehead creased in a frown, but she prodded Persephone’s side, pushing her forward.

Persephone stumbled for a few steps, then fell to her knees in prostration. “Skyfather, I renew my allegiance to you and your rule. My sword and my shield are yours,” she said.