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Persephone looked in the mirror. She had been right—Demeter had covered up everything Persephone liked about herself.
Still, she managed a forced, “Thank you, mother.”
“It was nothing, my flower.” Demeter patted her cheek. “So, tell me about this…job.”
The word sounded like a curse coming from Demeter’s lips. Persephone ground her teeth together. She was surprised by how fast and furious the anger tore through her.
“It’s an internship, mother. If I do well, I might have a job when I graduate.”
Demeter frowned. “Dear, you know you do not have to work.”
“So you say,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” Demeter asked.
Persephone turned to her mother and said louder. “I want to do this, mother. I’m good at it.”
“You are good at so many things, Kore,” she said.
“Don’t call me that!” Persephone snapped. Her mother’s eyes flashed. She’d seen that look right before Demeter thrashed one of her nymphs for letting her wander out of sight.
Persephone shouldn’t have gotten angry, but she couldn’t help it. She hated that name. It was her childhood nickname, and it meant exactly that—maiden. The word was like a prison, but worse than that, it reminded her that if she stepped too far out of line, the bars of her prison would only solidify. She was the magic-less daughter of an Olympian. Not only that, she borrowed her mother’s magic. If anything, that was a tether that meant obeying her mother was even more important. Without Demeter's glamour, Persephone couldn’t live in the mortal world anonymously.
“Sorry, mother,” she managed, but she didn’t look at the goddess as she spoke. Not because she was embarrassed, but because she really didn’t mean the apology.
“Oh, my flower. I don’t blame you,” she said, placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s this mortal world. It’s creating a divide between us.”
“Mother, you are being ridiculous,” Persephone said and sighed, placing her hands on either side of her face, and when she spoke again, she meant every word. “You are all I have.”
Demeter smiled, holding her daughter’s wrists. Hades’ mark burned. She leaned in a little, as if to kiss Persephone’s cheek. Instead, she said, “Remember that.”
Then she was gone.
Persephone released her breath and her body withered. Even when she had nothing to hide, dealing with her mother was exhausting. She was constantly on edge, preparing for what she would find unacceptable next. Over time, Persephone thought she had hardened herself against her mother’s unwanted words, but sometimes they pierced her.
She finished getting ready, choosing a pretty, light pink dress with ruffled sleeves. She paired it with a white wedge shoe and white handbag. On the way out, she stopped to check her reflection in the mirror, pulling glamour from her hair and face, returning her curls and freckles. She smiled, recognizing herself once again.
She headed out. Persephone didn’t have a car and she didn’t have the ability to teleport like other gods, so she either walked or took the bus when she needed to get around New Athens. Today, the sun was out, and it was warm, so she decided to walk.
Persephone loved the city because it was so unlike what she’d grown up with. Here, there were mirrored skyscrapers that sparkled under Helios’ warm rays. There were museums filled with histories Persephone had only learned when she moved here. There were buildings that looked like art, and sculptures and fountains on almost every block. Even with all the stone and glass and metal, there were acres of parks with lush gardens and trees where Persephone had spent many evenings walking. The fresh air reminded her she was free.
She inhaled now, trying to ease her anxiety. Instead, it traveled to her stomach where it knotted, made worse by the inked bracelet around her wrist. She had to get rid of it before Demeter saw it and her few years of freedom turned into a lifetime in a glass box.
It was usually that fear that kept Persephone cautious.
Except for last night—last night, she’d felt rebellious and despite this strange mark on her skin she’d found Nevernight and its king to be everything she had ever desired.
She wished that weren’t so—she wished she’d found Hades repulsive. She wished she hadn’t spent last night recalling how his dark eyes had trailed her body, how she’d had to tip her head back just to meet his gaze, how his graceful hands had shuffled the cards.
How would those long fingers feel against her skin? How would it feel to be swept into his strong arms and carried away?
After last night, she wanted things she had never wanted before. Soon, her anxiety was replaced with a fire so unfamiliar and so intense, she thought she might turn to ash.
Gods. Why was she thinking like this?
It was one thing to find the God of the Dead attractive, and another thing to…desire him. There was absolutely no way anything could happen between them. Her mother hated Hades, and she knew without asking that a relationship between them was forbidden. She also knew that she needed her mother’s magic more than she needed to quench this fire roaring inside her.
She neared the Acropolis, its dazzling, mirror surface almost blinding her. She made her way up the short flight of steps to the gold and glass doors. The lower level of the floor had a row of turnstiles and security guards—necessary for the businesses located in the high rise. Among them, Zeus’s advertising company, Oak & Eagle Creative. Zeus’s admirers were known to wait in crowds outside the Acropolis just for a glimpse of the God of Thunder. Once, a mob had tried to storm the building to reach him, which was sort of ironic considering Zeus was rarely at the Acropolis and spent most of his time in Olympia.
