Persephone could not raise her eyes to the chariot’s rider. If she ran now, she could keep her promise to Demeter. If she obeyed her mother’s wishes, perhaps she could still be forgiven...

The chariot ground to a halt, and its rider stepped out. “Persephone. Why, you’re trembling.”

She’d made a promise, a pact with her goddess mother. And now, in the wake of Hades’ presence, all she could do was stare.

Hades wore a chiton of ink black, the color deep and even, shimmering as she moved. A gold belt encircled her waist, matched by a diadem set among her curls. The air around her was icy, as if she’d brought a little piece of the underworld to the cave.

“You have journeyed far to be here,” Hades said.

Not that far, surely. Not so far as to be devoid of Demeter’s gaze—she might not be watched by the goddess herself, but surely her spies, her followers, would learn of this. Persephone wrapped her arms around her body, shivering.

Hades’ gaze dropped to the bruises on Persephone’s skin, blooming purple from her headlong flight.

She had to fix this situation before she made it worse, before she tossed more fuel onto the conflagration of her mother’s anger. “It’s nothing,” she said of her bruises. “I promised Mother—I mustn’t trouble you.” Her words came out in a rush. She turned to leave, but Hades caught her wrist, pulling her up short.

“Wait.”

Hades’ fingers were warm and unexpectedly gentle. She stroked her thumb against the pulse in Persephone’s wrist.

Persephone snatched her hand away and took a step back, cradling her arm to her chest, her skin burning as though she could still feel the press of Hades’ fingertips. “Please, O Queen—I must—I promised—”

“There’s no need to be so frightened. We are friends, dear Persephone, are we not?” Hades asked in a low voice, her calm tone belied by the intensity of her gaze, which felt like it was pinning Persephone in place. She couldn’t think; she couldn’t breathe.

Friends... A minor goddess like herself would never presume to count the Queen of the Underworld as a friend. She opened her mouth. As if from far away, she heard herself speak. “Yes, Queen Hades.”

“Well—as a friend, tell me why you are out here, alone, and at this hour?”

Words caught in Persephone’s throat. Centuries of prudence stayed her voice. “I tripped,” she said.

Hades looked at her whilst Persephone’s cheeks burned. “Then it is fortunate you tripped so close to one of my gateways.” She reached up and plucked a leaf from Persephone’s windswept hair, then twined a lock around her finger and brought her face close to the girl’s neck, inhaling.