She was seated beside Hades and not with her guests as she had hoped. Very soon servants trudged into the Great Hall, carrying great platters of food, steaming trays and baskets of loaves. The appealing scents mingled in the air, and Persephone’s throat moistened itself in anticipation.

Her hunger became worse when the food was placed directly in front of her. She sat still as a statue, as if moving would invite weakness and give her leave to succumb to her appetite.

Hades glanced at her empty plate. “Is there something else you would prefer from the kitchens?”

Persephone shook her head.

“Xenia tells me you have fasted all day. Surely you must be hungry?”

Persephone’s stomach rumbled as if on cue. Her cheeks colored, but she kept her lips firmly pressed together.

Hades frowned. “Speak to me, wife.”

A muscle ticked in Persephone’s cheek. “You have no right to call me that.”

“Let us not fight over words on this blessed day. Persephone, then. Are you so determined to refuse my hospitality?”

“I don’t wish to stay here. You know that!” Persephone said, trying not to watch all of the diners digging into their food with gusto.

“You have not eaten since your arrival?” Hades asked, her words clipped.

Persephone shook her head. She hadn’t dared. One sip and it would bind her here forever.

Hades gestured at the spread before them. “Nothing at our table has been grown here. You may partake of it freely.” She beckoned a servant to her side. “Bring me that plate,” she said, pointing at a platter laden with figs on another table.

The servant came back and set the plate down. Hades took a fig from the new plate and a fig from another plate already on their table. She hid them both behind her back for a moment and then held out her palms, each with a fig upon it.

“Which one is from the surface?” she asked.

Persephone shook her head. She would sit through this farce, but she needn’t play these games.

“Humor me.”

Biting back a sigh, Persephone touched both figs in turn. One of them roused nothing within her. But the other evoked clear skies, torrential rain, and the fragrance of freshly dug earth. She pressed her hands over her mouth, trying hard not to cry.

Hades took that fig and with her knife destemmed it and cut it into segments, placing them upon Persephone’s plate. “Please, eat.”

Persephone popped a slice into her mouth, and the juice exploded on her tongue. She chewed slowly and then devoured the rest of it.

She hadn’t realized that fruit grown from the underworld’s soil would feel different to her senses. But why wouldn’t it? Never feeling the sun, not following the natural order of the seasons. Of course it was bound to be different.