“Persephone, fruit of Demeter, daughter of mine, I accept your fealty.” Zeus took her hand, helping her rise to her feet, then slapped her back, nearly bowling her over. “Now, eat. Drink! The day is young, and we rejoice as one family.”

“Yes, Father.”

His attention was already gone from her, moving on to the next visitor—Poseidon, who had eyes not for Zeus but Demeter. Persephone gratefully took the opportunity to slip away whilst her elders were distracted.

A breeze had picked up by the time she found her way into the courtyards. She ran her hands over the leaves of an ornamental fig, yellowed by lack of nutrients. The leaves brightened when she touched it, though the effect would not last long without further treatment.

She had not escaped the other revelers, but everyone else seemed preoccupied, clustered in little groups and arguing over petty trifles. She took a cup of wine from a passing servant and sipped at it, feeling its heat rush to her cheeks. A little wouldn’t hurt.

Hephaestus found her in a courtyard. She heard him approach, distinguishing him by the unusual scuffle he made as he walked, favoring his lame leg.

“Persephone, well met, again. I was hoping to find you; we see you so rarely. Have you the time now to entertain my attentions?” he asked.

Persephone smiled and then stopped herself, her mother’s words echoing in her mind. “I—yes, of course. But—”

“I wish to give you a gift on this loveliest of days.” With a flourish that seemed practiced, he revealed a small box from under his chlamys and held it out to her.

“You shouldn’t have,” she said but saw no way to refuse him that would not seem rude. She opened the lid of the box, revealing a small metal bird nestled in cloth.

“It winds with this key,” he said, pointing out the mechanism.

Persephone held it on her palm and turned the key several times. To her delight, the bird flapped its wings and opened its beak, trilling out a few sweet notes.

“Oh!” she said, enraptured. “How clever.”

“You like it?”

“Yes, of course! It’s beautiful.”

The spring powering the mechanism wound down, and the bird returned to its original stationary position. Persephone placed it back in its box.

“My forge is known best for its weapons, but I can create so much more than that,” Hephaestus said. “I prefer to make scythes over swords, at any rate.”

“You have a true talent.”

He smiled at her, seemingly encouraged by her words. His face set him apart from the other gods and goddesses, all paragons of beauty. Had he ever forgiven Hera for her rejection?

“I see you’ve found us again,” Demeter said as she walked over to them. She plucked the wine cup from Persephone’s hand and drank deeply.

Persephone uncovered her box, presenting it to Demeter. “Look, Mother. Isn’t it beautiful?”