Hades looked at the bodies. “Of course. Their lives were forfeit the moment they entered my realm.” She led Persephone to her chariot, and they set off immediately without waiting for the servants to be done with their grisly task.

Persephone looked over her shoulder, at the light glinting off the blue water of Oceanus. They had not been too far from the boundaries of the underworld. A little more time and she could have reached the surface.

But at what cost?

She glanced at the goddess beside her. Hades stared straight ahead, the reins held loosely in her hands. She barely needed to steer; the horses knew the way. Her face was grim, a muscle in her cheek twitching occasionally.

“Hades? Thank you... for saving me.”

Hades glanced at Persephone, her gaze dark. “Your gratitude is noted.”

They traveled the rest of the way in silence.

15

NAME ME

It took a great deal of warm water and scrubbing to remove all of the ichor from Persephone’s face and hair. Afterward, she lay on her (admittedly comfortable) bed, staring at the painted swans on the ceiling.

This was not where she had expected to be.

Her morning had been so full of hope and anticipation. Now, there was only an eternity of the underworld before her; that and the memory of Pirithous’s sightless eyes boring into her soul.

Persephone curled up in her sheets and cried herself to sleep.

Xenia woke her some time later. “Begging your pardon, mistress, but Queen Hades desires your presence.”

Persephone was tempted to disappear under the covers, but she knew no good would come of it. Still, she protested. “Now?” The window was dark, so it had to be night.

“Yes, mistress.”

Persephone emerged from her nest of blankets and pulled a fresh chiton over her head. “Where is she?”

“In her rooms.”

Persephone’s pulse quickened. She turned her head to hide her blush. “Thank you.”

Xenia nodded and left her.

Persephone had slept in her wet braid; there was really nothing to be done about her hair. She caught sight of her own reflection and winced. Bruises blossomed on her arms and shoulders, with more on her legs and hips, courtesy of her misadventures in the storage chest. She tossed a himation over her shoulders, wrapping it closely around her neck.

She opened the door between their rooms. Hades was sitting at her writing desk, as usual, her reed pen scratching away. The desk faced away from Persephone, such that Hades’ back was slightly turned to her.

Persephone stood in the doorway for some time. Hades had also changed out of her bloodstained clothes and was wearing once more a chiton that seemed to be made of pure shadow.

After what felt like a candle mark had passed, Hades set down her pen, turned and looked at her. “That will not do. You must knock.” She gestured. “Try again.”