I chuckled softly. “You’ve lived here for centuries and you still haven’t noticed where or how the laundry gets done?”
“To be fair, I probably knewonce, and have since discarded the unnecessary information from my mind.”
“Uh huh.”
He laughed. “Never mind my ignorance! The point is, I shall leave you in the hands of women who are much more capable than I. Allow me to send for them when you are ready.”
“Kiss me again, and then I’ll be ready.”
So he did, and we nipped each other playfully until I reluctantly released him. We freshened up together, and he put his clothes on while I covered myself with a towel. When my two attendants came knocking, Thanatos briefed them, and then I followed him over to the sliding door to his balcony.
“Be good, my love.” He pecked my lips. “I will see you tonight.” He stepped out through the door and closed it behind him. I stared, entranced, through the glass as he unfurled his dark wings, flapped them once, and disappeared from sight.
“Damn,” I breathed. One of my handmaidens cleared her throat from behind me, and when I turned and let the curtain fall I pretended I hadn’t said anything. I nodded to them.
“With us, my lady,” said the woman on the left. She was the same green-dressed woman from yesterday—Sara, that was her name. And to her right was a stranger to me: a tall, beautiful woman clad in white robes. With a twinge of guilt, I realized it was probably impolite to remember servants based on color-coding their apparel. Now that Thanatos was away, I couldn’t help but overanalyze everything, including the potential pitfalls of interacting with souls.
The two women, though, showed no such hesitation. They exchanged my towel for a soft pink robe, then led me in tandem to the front door, their motions stiff and synchronized. I followed their direction in silence, and we all stepped over the threshold of Thanatos’ rooms.
The passageway outside was wide, black to match the castle’s facade, and lit by wall torches—one for every few steps. The blue-green flames licked upwards, dancing, casting eerie shadows through the softly shimmering air. I nervously rolled the fabric of my waist-tie between my fingers as I followed my attendants along a winding route through the palace halls.
When we reached our destination, I was greeted at an unassuming door by four more women who were alreadyworking within. They hurried me through the doorway and into what I recognized as a dressing room, cluttered with racks of clothing. I stepped up onto a short central platform, and they began to collect my measurements.
While the others encircled me with their tapes and bustled about to prepare for their work, an older woman wearing brown hauled out a collection of gowns for me to examine. “Of course these will not fit now,” she said, her words carrying a slight accent. “But all we need is a base, and we can fashion them for your figure.”
She must have also been a seamstress in life, I thought. The dead could not change. Did that mean she’d died while engrossed in her craft?
“Look here,” she called, and held a few of the dresses up. “Choose four to start, and then we will find something for today.”
I let my eyes wander over the options, half consumed by amazement that the palace staff had a gown collection ready to draw upon. It occurred to me that in life I had never experienced true opulence at all, though I may have thought it so at various times. I was almost overwhelmed by the ability to choose my attire, so I probably deliberated longer than was cordial. After some consideration I managed to select four gowns, each with a different vibrant color.
The other ladies divided my selections amongst themselves to begin their alterations. Meanwhile, the woman in brown dragged out a second rack, this one filled to bursting with finely woven, decorated fabrics—bases for chitons. “For today. Choose.”
I brushed my hand through the cloths with a sense of stunned wonder. Soft. Rich. Detailed.Expensive. I swept my hand through again, but stopped midway down the rack thistime. Where I paused I drew out a fabric colored deep blue, embroidered with gold thread.
“Very good, my lady.” The seamstress disentangled the fabric from its neighbors and set off in search of matching pins.
I glanced around at the working souls, each engrossed in a task with complete focus. What did it say about nature, that I should be permitted to wear finery crafted by the dead? I still understood so little of the reality that Thanatos had torn to keep me at his side. What would my soul have become if he hadn’t done it? Would I be allowed to learn more, now that the Underworld was to be my home?
Well, perhaps I should concentrate on getting dressed first. The seamstress in brown returned with my chosen fabric and a set of jeweled pins, and I held still as she replaced my robe with the most elaborate, opulent chiton I had ever seen.
“Thank you. This is lovely,” I praised, treasuring the chance to wear such beautiful color. She finished my look with exquisite matching jewelry. Meanwhile, Sara pulled out a sizable collection of various makeups and began to rifle through the cases.
I perked up when I saw the variety on display. “Oh, I can do that myself. I mean, Iwantto do that myself,” I added, anticipating her objections. When she stepped aside, I enthusiastically searched the collection for optimal products. Sara stood as a silent sentinel as I carried a chosen stash over to the mirror in the corner of the room.
Thanatos had always adored my priestess makeup. It reminded him that I’d wanted him instead of his rivals, had dared to love him in defiance of the glorious Olympians I belonged to. But I didn’t belong to them now.
With a steady hand I copied the intricate detail of the ritual makeup I’d worn as a mortal—only this time, I did it all in soft black. The brown shades characteristic of my temple lookwere replaced with his color, the color of my choice. I smiled at my reflection, envisioning his reaction.
With the finishing touches applied, I thanked the women for their work and presented them with one final request: I needed some directions. There was one more visit I was compelled to make today, driven by both curiosity and courtesy. Luckily, the place was easy to find once they told me the way.
The gardens of Persephone were a vast cut of the Underworld that stretched far to the north and out of sight, hosting a mysterious, untamed forest bursting with magical vegetation. It would take a special type of adventurer to brave those wilds. I was told, however, that the Queen also tended a more delicate garden here in the palace, and that at this hour I could probably find her there.
On my arrival, I opened a set of tall, decorated doors, revealing an enormous open area where stone pathways wound their way through lush vegetation. I brushed my fingers through various flourishing leaves as I meandered toward the center of the garden. Around me at every turn grew fruit trees with bounties aplenty, and beneath them sprouted bushes laden with assorted ripe berries. All of it looked exceedingly juicy and perfect, but there was something sinister about these fruits that I couldn’t quite place.Underworld food, I realized,which binds its consumers to this realm below. Somehow I could sense its magic.
As I neared the innermost space, the spectacular variety of plants gave way to a comparatively monotonous core of near-identical pomegranate trees. The whole center of this place was filled with them, all planted in concentric circles around a small inner courtyard. Queen Persephone lounged there, sitting on a carved wooden chair beneath verdant branches heavy with her sacred fruit.
I didn’t know what I should have expected when I went to meet the goddess, but after seeing her for the first time I doubted I could ever envision anyone more clearlyPersephone. The woman sitting before me wore simple makeup and a fitted black dress which flowed seamlessly down to the tops of her knees. She was decorated with dainty circlets of white flowers which grew in perfect loops around her arms and her waist. Hair the color of sunshine fell to the small of her back in gorgeous glossy curls, and on her head rested a crown of glistening gold and flowers. She looked up to me as I approached her seat, a smile at the corners of her lips.
