Demeter simpered. “Why, that’s nonsense, of course. I don’t see how you bear it, being trapped in that awful place, year in, year out! Could you imagine it?” she asked, directing this last question to Persephone.

“No,” Persephone said as she gently extricated herself from the ivy, supplying what she thought was the desired answer.

Demeter wrapped her arms around herself and shivered theatrically. “Simply dreadful!”

Hades said nothing. She briefly met Persephone’s gaze. Was she amused? Annoyed? Persephone couldn’t read her well enough to tell.

Demeter sighed. “We each have our burdens to bear.” She took Persephone’s arm, her mirror-bright smile wide enough to cut her face in two. “Speaking of which, I must get this one home.”

“Of course.” Hades inclined her head. “It was good to see you again, Demeter. Persephone,” she said, annunciating the syllables in her name with care.

Her name shouldn’t have sounded indecent coming from Hades’ lips, but all the same, Persephone shivered. She mumbled her farewells as she stared at her feet.

Demeter gave a little tug on her arm, and then they were away.

“Must we go so soon?” Persephone asked once they had made their way downstairs.

“This is not ‘soon,’” Demeter said. “It is almost dark. Let’s get you to bed.”

Persephone glanced up at the sky. The sun was not quite set, and there was still plenty of light. “We must find Father,” she said. That would take some searching, surely. “To make our goodbyes.”

“I’ve already said our farewells to Zeus,” Demeter said.

Persephone blinked. “I would’ve liked to see him again.”

Demeter did not slow her pace as they headed down the corridors of Zeus’s palace, weaving around groups of inebriated party-goers. “What was that? Speak up, child.”

Persephone bit her lip. “It was nothing.”

They drew near to Zeus’s private wing, where he and his immediate family lived. Persephone glanced up to see Aphrodite descending the staircase, re-pinning a fibula to secure one shoulder of her chiton. It did not match the brooch on her right shoulder. In fact, Persephone could’ve sworn she’d seen something of that design adorning Hera’s clothing.

Aphrodite winked at her.

Demeter’s grip tightened on Persephone’s arm, and once they were a safe distance away, she sneered. “Strumpet.”

“It is only her function, Mother,” Persephone said, made bold by the hum of conversation around them, the laughter pealing through the evening air.

Demeter didn’t deign to respond. Outside, a servant waited for them with horses and a chariot. Persephone would rather have walked, barefoot, to feel the hum of the earth beneath her toes. She did not bother suggesting such a thing to her mother. Walking would have looked plebian.

Demeter waited until they were well out of the shadow of Zeus’s palace before she spoke again. “What did she want from you?”

“Who?” Persephone asked to buy herself time.