“Excuse me?” Persephone turned and found Pirithous sitting closer to her than decency would allow. He was staring at her, not as a mortal might revere a god but with the same hunger she’d so often seen in Hades’ eyes.

Persephone slid across the seat until the neck of an amphora jabbed into her side. “Who are you?”

“A child of Zeus, like yourself. King of the Lapiths of Thessaly,” said Pirithous.

She looked between him and Theseus, seated on the driver’s bench. “My mother sent you to fetch me,” she said, as if by her speech she would make it true.

Theseus glanced back at his friend, eyes narrowed. A warning.

“In a sense,” Pirithous said. He was a very poor liar.

Persephone leaned forward and grabbed the back of Theseus’s chiton. “Stop the wagon.”

Instead of obeying her, Theseus used a crop on the horses and the wagon lurched forward, hurling her off-balance. Pirithous tossed the blanket over her, throwing her into darkness as he grabbed her. He wrangled Persephone back into the storage box, pushing her to the bottom before slamming it shut.

Persephone tore at the blanket, bruising her elbows and knees as she struggled to uncover her head. When that was done, she pounded at the lid. “Let me out!” she screamed, but it would not budge. He had to be sitting on it.

Persephone screamed again in wordless fury. There was no one around to hear her, and even if they did, they would most likely think her cries were those of the unquiet dead.

“Please, don’t be aggrieved,” Pirithous said. “When we are wed—”

What?

“—I will lavish upon you the finest of silks, jewels, whatever you desire.”

“What I desire is to choose for myself!”

He said something, inaudibly. She hammered at the lid once more, splinters lodging in her fingers for her efforts.

It was not a particularly hard wood—spruce, grown in the underworld. Persephone lay back in her box, forcing herself to breathe slowly. Her throat was raw. Too late, she remembered where she’d seen Theseus’s face. Athenians held his image in high regard. Hadn’t he killed some monster or other? He was one of Poseidon’s.

So. Both of them were demigods. Heroes. Who else would be foolish enough to venture into the underworld alive?

The wagon surged forward, tossing Persephone against the side of the box. They were heading downhill, quickly. How close were they to the great river Oceanus? She banged on the lid, and this time she heard Pirithous speak, so softly she had to strain to make out his words over the sound of the horses and wagon wheels.

“...My wife died, so long ago now. Theseus and I pledged we would remarry only the most beautiful of Zeus’s daughters. We have traveled far to find you.”

“The underworld is not meant for mortals,” Persephone said.

“No. That is why we will not overstay our welcome.”