When at last she and Persephone were alone, she plastered a smile on her face and brought her hands together. “Now, mistress, forgive me for being forward, but... did your honored mother explain to you each facet of a wife’s duties?”

Persephone’s mind went blank. Now? They were doing this now, and with a servant who would report directly back to her abductor, no less? “Yes,” she said, jaw clenched. She turned aside, but Xenia would not be thwarted.

“It’s only that... well, after the feast, there won’t be much time for us to speak in private if you have questions—”

“Why is she doing this?”

Xenia had clearly braced herself for a different sort of question. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then spoke. “Every hard-working ruler needs a good wife by their side.”

It was as though Persephone were yelling down a deep chasm and nothing was coming back save for the twisted echo of her own voice. “Not everyone takes that wife by deception.”

Xenia smiled sadly, giving her a pitying glance. She wasn’t so indecorous to mention Persephone’s father, but they were both thinking it. Fine—the rest of the gods were no paragons of morality; everyone knew that. It didn’t make it right.

Persephone placed both hands flat on the small table and rose, the folds of her chiton weighing heavily about her as the hem settled around her ankles. “Enough. Let’s be done with this farce.”

Outside, the other servant girls were already waiting for them, lining the corridors on both sides and dressed in identical gowns of pale green, like the calyx to her flower. They bowed their heads as Persephone approached, then turned to follow behind in rows of two.

Xenia led the way to the Great Hall. Already, Persephone’s elaborate coiffure was beginning to weigh down on her skull. She wondered how she could dance in all this finery. Would she be expected to dance? The thought of having to feign any kind of joy at this travesty of a wedding was utterly repugnant.

They stopped at the doors to the Great Hall, where Xenia swept her gaze once more over Persephone. She fussed with the veil, arranging it to fall over Persephone’s eyes, concealing her face and blurring the world in an amber-colored haze.

If this were a proper wedding, Demeter might have been the one to perform such an intimate function. Persephone pressed her lips together, resolving not to weep as the doors swung inward, revealing their wedding party to the crowd.

It seemed like the underworld had emptied itself to attend her wedding. There were not enough seats for all of them, and so people crowded in every nook and cranny of the room, some even watching from the rafters.