As she strode toward the gates, groups of servants stopped whatever work they were doing to greet her. She had grown so sick of hearing her own name by the time she reached the outer courtyard, she would’ve been glad not to hear it for another century.

She passed the gleaming walls of obsidian, seeing her face reflected in the stone, then noticed something else besides her reflection.

Xenia trailed behind her with another two serving girls she had managed to pick up along the way. Part of Persephone admired her tenacity.

“I said I’m going for a walk. I don’t need an escort,” she snapped.

“Yes, mistress,” Xenia said, eyes demurely downcast, but still she did not leave.

“Oh, by Zeus!” Persephone threw her hands up in the air. “I do not need an escort. Surely no ills could befall me, for are these not all Hades’ lands?”

Xenia and the other servants glanced at each other. “We’ve been ordered—”

“I don’t care what you’ve been ordered! I am ordering you to leave me alone!”

“Begging your pardon, but you do not have that authority,” Xenia said.

The woman had courage, she would grant her that. “Fine.” Persephone stalked away, heading to the stables. Inside, she took down her own tack and picked out one of the mares, a dappled gray. There was one place in the underworld where Hades’ mortal servants were unlikely to tread.

“Keep up, if you can,” she said to Xenia and her unrelenting helpers, then mounted, sitting astride. She nudged her mare forward without looking back and soon urged her into a canter, then a gallop. She bent down low over her mane, reveling in the wind rushing past her face. They crossed the lowlands of the Plain of Judgment together, not pausing even when the dead called out her name. They’d find no mercy from her this day.

When the lowlands became desolate and barren, her mare slowed, as though reluctant to venture further. Persephone had to nudge her into continuing, each step more hesitant than the last.

Persephone felt it, too—the sense of impending dread. She passed through a valley, rocky cliffs looming tall around her. She glanced from side to side, noticing how even the hardiest of weeds refused to grow here.

Xenia drew up beside her, mounted on a soot-colored gelding. “We should not be here,” she said, her kind face creased with worry. “Please, let’s turn back.”

“I want to see.”

The air seemed even cooler here, making her shiver. Her mare whinnied piteously and would not be calmed. Persephone was forced to dismount and proceed on foot, followed by Xenia. The other servants appeared not to have made it this far.