The shrieking had grown more distant, dying down to a barely perceptible murmur. Hades continued to hold Persephone in her arms. The fragrance of asphodels still surrounded her. Or was it simply that they had just passed a field of asphodels? Persephone couldn’t trust her senses, nor come to terms with the fact that she might not be dreaming.

The chariot slowed to a halt, and Hades shifted her weight, moving so that Persephone’s head lolled against her shoulder.

“I can stand,” she said, trying to sound more convincing than she felt.

Hades looked down at her with a smile on her lips. “As you wish.” She set Persephone down on her feet, watching as she stumbled and grabbed for the rail of the chariot.

“Why have we stopped?” Persephone asked.

“I have someone I would like you to meet.”

Persephone clung to the railing, breathing heavily. The floor insisted on spinning beneath her. “Take me home.”

“This is your home,” Hades said without a trace of humor.

Persephone turned to look at her and managed to stand up straight, although she still held the railing for support. She glanced up at the formless sky. In this barren land she had no favors to give, no weapons, no allies. She ought to say something nice to her captor. Something that would make Hades more inclined to take pity upon her and release her in a timely manner.

“Go p-pleasure a goat,” Persephone said.

Hades’ lips pressed together as though she were trying not to laugh. “You must be feeling better. Good.” Hades left her in the chariot and walked on ahead.

Persephone gazed up to see that they had stopped before a pair of tall black gates set within a massive wall. In front of the gates sat an enormous hound, a bright red tongue lolling out of each of its three heads.

Hades hugged the nearest head, her arms unable to reach around the girth of its neck, and placed a kiss on its cheek. In return, the hound barked happily, the sound echoing, and it lowered its head before her, pushing against her hands. All three heads vied for affection and did not desist until Hades had paid adequate attention to each of them.

Persephone was not a great lover of dogs—they trampled her flowerbeds and chased rabbits through her carefully plotted lines of salad greens—and so when Hades turned and crooked a finger in her direction, her first instinct was to remain in the chariot, where she had at least the illusion of safety. The horses fared little better; they shifted their weight back and forth, stamping their feet, the whites of their eyes greatly apparent, but they were too well-trained to abandon their designated position.