“I know my sums,” Persephone shot back, blushing. Her ignorance was not blasphemous, unlike her lack of filial piety. When was the last time she’d even thought about Demeter? Surely she had to be regretting her harsh words and harsher sentence by now. Had she even noticed that Persephone was missing? Would she be searching for her?

“Be that as it may, your mother has done you a great disservice.” Hades glanced at the tablet lying atop the coverlet. “No, this simply will not do.” She gnawed at her bottom lip. “I had hoped—never mind. I shall find you a tutor to assess your scholastic development, or lack thereof, and we will progress from there.”

It could be an opportune thing, Persephone supposed. A tutor might be easier to elude, as opposed to Xenia, who smothered her, or Hades, who... “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will.” Hades placed a hand on Persephone’s cheek and kissed her. “Now, I really must go.”

Once Hades left, Persephone crawled out of bed and used Hades’ bathing chamber before dressing herself.

As if on cue, a serving girl knocked on the door, bringing in Persephone’s breakfast. After she’d eaten, the same girl helped her dress her hair, adorning it with a curved metal band.

“Where is Xenia?” Persephone asked.

“It’s her day off for the month, mistress,” the girl said.

Persephone bit her lip to hide a smile. Xenia was gone, and Hades was preoccupied. Perhaps fortune was finally turning in her favor.

“Are you ready to go to the library?” the girl asked. “Your teacher will be waiting.”

Hades had found her a tutor so quickly? Some of her mirth evaporated. “Yes, I suppose.”

When the girl had said ‘library,’ Persephone had pictured a room no bigger than a courtyard. But what they called the library could have housed as many as twenty families. Every wall was filled with scroll racks, and more racks stood in straight lines, as far as the eye could see. In between were writing tables, lounges, and seating areas for reading. There was little natural light to be had, the area lit artificially—not by torches or candles but by something that glowed like fireflies caught behind glass. The rooms smelled of papyrus and carbon ink.

“You shelved me beside Straton? That hack! I demand you move my work to somewhere more accessible.”

A short, somewhat rotund man was harassing a spotty-faced boy. The boy had several scrolls under his arm and strained to balance his cargo while surreptitiously backing away.

If the boy was to be her tutor, Persephone thought it would be a simple thing to intimidate him into doing her bidding. But she was not to be so fortunate.