“Would you rather the alternative?”

“If this is mercy, then perhaps I should take my chances,” Persephone hissed.

“Continue to try me, and you may see for yourself.”

Persephone picked at a loose thread on her chiton. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her eyes downcast.

Hades sat back in her chair and gestured to the herald to continue.

More names were read out, and the rest of the session passed in a similar manner, with Hades hearing the deeds of mortals and then pronouncing judgment upon them. Persephone barely heard a word that was spoken. Hades had said she would be punished, yes, but she’d naturally imagined something nominal—not a flogging! And exposure? For how long? And would it be public, her humiliation laid bare for all to see?

She glanced at Hades from time to time, to try to gain some insight into what she might have been thinking, but Hades studiously ignored her, focusing instead upon whichever mortal stood before her. Persephone might as well have not existed at all.

When at last it came time for a recess, she walked with Hades from the dais and cornered her beside a refreshment table.

“What was that? Are you mad? I am your wife!” Persephone said, her hands in fists.

“Your actions belie your words,” Hades said and popped a grape into her mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing before speaking. “Have you listened to any of the other cases? That last one now, the farmer. What was his misdeed?”

“I don’t know! What does it matter?”

Hades turned and looked at her. “Then this exercise is pointless, given your current frame of mind. You might as well go and work on your reading with Stephanus, instead of attending this afternoon’s session.”

“I—what? Him? But we haven’t discussed—”

“There is nothing to discuss.” Hades jerked her head toward the exit.

“I—oh!” Persephone threw her hands in the air and all but ran out, wishing for a door to slam behind her, to show her displeasure, and having to satisfy herself instead with the sharp sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway as an unsatisfactory proxy.

17

WHERE PRAISE IS DUE

Hades did not request her presence again for a week, or maybe two. Each morning, Persephone would look to Xenia to read her the day’s tasks as she got dressed, dreading her punishment and yet longing for something to break up the monotony.

But it never came. Instead, she continued her lessons with Stephanus, walked among the fields, even met some of the dead. Her hand was getting better, Stephanus told her grudgingly.

Each day, she wondered whether it was raining or sunny upon the earth, whether the acanthus she’d planted last season were still blossoming. She thought of her mother, too, but less and less. Thinking of Demeter was painful, but like a bruise, it would smart when prodded and did not trouble her otherwise.

It could not last forever.