When Hades returned, Parvani was sitting on the edge of the bed. Hades had removed her veil and bone crown so that Parvani could gaze freely upon her face. It was as cold and beautiful as the marble surrounding them, her cheekbones high and her mouth sinfully red. Her eyes, when they rested on Parvani, were the blue-gray of agate.

Parvani shook. She tried to think of Ranya’s smile, her laugh, her stories.

You know what to do.

This is my choice.

Slowly, carefully, as if trying to avoid aggravating a snake, she lay back upon the bed.

Hades watched without a shift of expression. But she came to the side of the bed and sat there, her presence like the first breeze of approaching winter, or the clean, cold air of night.

Parvani attempted to hide her uneven breathing. Her heart would have pounded, if it were still capable of doing so. Her nightgown was thin, and Hades looked down, as one starving looks at a feast.

Fingers as white and cold as bone came to rest upon her chest.

Parvani flinched.

Hades froze, then slowly removed her hand. She stood, as fluid and dark as water.

Parvani sat up. “Where are you going?”

Hades stopped in the archway and looked over her shoulder. “I do not touch the unwilling.”

She left, and Parvani battled with relief and despair. She held her head in her hands as she finally allowed herself to weep.

She dreamed of her city. How it used to be—how she wanted to remember it. Cramped houses along winding dirt roads, bright jewel-colored kites flown in spring, the comforting lights of autumn festivals.

She slept deep and undisturbed.

She didn’t see Hades for a few days. Still gripped by an instinctual fear, Parvani was fine with this arrangement, but once the fear wore off, she grew bored. She took to wandering the palace, wiping her fingers over dusty mantels and listening to the solitary echo of her own feet against marble.

No one else resided in the palace, from what she could see. It was only her and the shadows, which trailed after her like a lady-in-waiting. Parvani found clothes for herself in a grand bureau in her bedroom—their bedroom?—and was startled to find that they were in the style of her people: long tunics embroidered with silver and gold thread, silk pants, trailing fabrics in colors that could rival a parrot’s plumage.

Had Hades done this for her?

It was also a surprise to find food and drink whenever she required it. She was sitting on a balcony overlooking the asphodel when she suddenly craved her mother’s tea, and turning to the small table beside her chaise, she was startled to find a silver tea tray. The tea tasted almost as good as her mother’s, creamy and spicy and sweet.