“No,” said Antony. “I am a soldier.” He stopped, stammering. “I was a soldier.”

Persephone smiled. In her other hand, she held a piece of gleaming black fruit. She put the fruit to her lips and bit into it. Her teeth were pearl white and shone in the dim light of Hades. The fruit dripped crimson juice.

Cleopatra felt a pang of sudden hunger, the first since she’d arrived in the Underworld.

“Well, soldier. Citizen of Hades. What is it you wish? Do you petition for your release? We cannot send you back to the land of the living with your companion. She no longer dwells there.”

Antony looked at Persephone.

“I offer myself,” he said. “Her soul is tied to an Old God. She cannot die, and she does not live. You may use me however you choose. I was a soldier, and many of my former men dwell here. I would organize an army in Hades. Or send me to Tartarus for your amusement. Do with me what you wish. I only ask that you help her regain her soul.”

Cleopatra was horrified. “He is not an offering,” she cried. “That is not what I want!”

“That is true,” said the god. “He is ours already. He is only a shade. You are something else. What do you offer us?”

The god turned his gaze on Cleopatra. His eyes glittered and she was reminded of the Hydra. Could this god be trusted? Could anyone?

“I am a mortal,” she began. “Yet my soul is shared by Sekhmet. I bargained with her, but now I would be free of the bargain.”

Persephone laughed a bitter laugh.

“The gods do not release their prizes easily,” she said, and her husband glanced at her, his eyes flashing. She extended her free hand and placed it upon his thigh. He took her fingers in his and touched them, a strange look of amusement on his face.

He turned to Cleopatra.

“Your goddess is not one of us. I cannot do anything about your soul.”

“Then I wish to stay here with Antony,” Cleopatra said.

“A love story,” said Hades. “And I thought you brought us something new. Do you think all lovers do not ask the same boon?”

Cleopatra felt desperate. Was there nothing for her, then? Would she return to earth and wander, homeless and hopeless? She might take vengeance on Rome, but when that was finished, what would she do? Augustus would die, whether at her hands or simply through the passage of time. Her children would die.

Sekhmet would live and grow stronger. Cleopatra would be a slave to the goddess, feeding her, killing for her. She would never be free.

“Let me die!” she begged. “I have lost my country, my family —”

“As have many. Why are you different?” said Hades, impatient.

“You are dead already,” Persephone informed her, and her voice was gentle. “But you are not for the peace of the grave.”

“The goddess you woke grows stronger,” Hades said. “The banks of Acheron are crowded with the unmourned. Whole villages have died, and none are left to bury the dead. Your goddess is insatiable. She has sent one of her children to hunt on her behalf.”