In the days that followed, Persephone held a salon to properly receive her wedding gifts. Though she lacked the exuberance expected of a new bride, she took pains to banish the sullen creature she’d been at her wedding feast. She had no wish to offend potential allies any more than she already had. Hades had made it clear she answered to no one; Persephone would not hold Hades’ subjects accountable for their queen’s behavior.

Persephone grew, if not fond, then at least accustomed to Hades’ attentions, though she told herself she misliked them.

Everything about Hades was a contradiction: her cold gaze and warm hands; her hardened heart and tender words. So perhaps it was no surprise that Persephone learned to both dread and hunger for the night, when Hades’ touch would set her body aflame.

Mornings were easier, as she usually woke alone with the other side of the bed grown cold. But a few weeks into her captivity, she was startled to find Hades sitting at her writing desk, dressed with her hair braided and coiffed, scribbling furiously.

Persephone clutched the covers to her chest as she watched the light playing on the muscles in Hades’ neck. Before she could lie back down and pretend to be asleep, Hades turned.

“You’re awake. Good.” Hades tapped the end of her stylus against her lips as she watched Persephone. A stray curl had escaped her braid and lay across her cheek, framing her face. “Did you sleep well?”

Persephone nodded. She shifted uncomfortably under the covers, aware of her nudity.

“I left you a list of things to work through today. There will be time left in the afternoon for you to do as you please, but only on the condition that you have finished your assigned tasks.” Hades tossed a small wax-covered tablet to Persephone.

She caught it, careful to hold the edges as not to smear the imprint. She knew that much, at least.

“I know it sounds tedious,” Hades said, walking to her dressing area. She flung a chlamys over her shoulders, fastening it at the side. “But you will have to learn this sooner or later, and I would prefer sooner.”

Ought she to say something? Persephone felt as though an invisible fist were squeezing her heart. “Hades...”

“What is it, my dove? I am aware the hour is later than ideal. I think I can be forgiven, given the circumstances.”

“Hades, I... I can’t read.”

Hades paused in the motion of adjusting her hair and turned to stare at Persephone. Her expression of shock might have been comical in other circumstances. “Why not?” she asked.

What sort of question was that? “I guess I... just never learned.”

“But then how could you help Demeter forecast the harvest and track the planting of each field?”