Persephone and Hecate returned to the ballroom and finished up their floral arrangements. After, they made their way to the kitchens where Milan, a daimon, and a staff of several souls who had been chefs in previous lives, worked on the solstice feast. Milan insisted they try an assortment of jams, preserves, grapes, figs, pomegranates, black berries, pears, and dates. There were cured meats and various cheeses, crackers and fresh herbs.
“My Lady Persephone...do you happen to have the recipe for that sweet bread you made?” Milan asked.
It took her a moment to understand what Milan was talking about. “Oh, you mean the cake!”
“Whatever it was, it was delicious,” Hecate said. “And almost started a war.”
Persephone laughed. She’d baked the cake, left it to cool overnight, and had completely forgotten about it.
“It’s very easy, Milan. I’ll teach you.”
The daimon grinned and Persephone spent the rest of the afternoon baking in the kitchen until Hecate pulled her away to get ready for the festivities.
They hung out in Hades’ bedchamber. Hecate’s nymphs, lampades, worked Persephone’s hair into smooth curls, then braided pieces, sculpting part of it into a half-up style. Her makeup was darker than usual. A shimmering black shadow and thick liner made her eyes appear wider and more open; the color also brightened her irises. A burgundy lip completed the look.
As she watched herself transform in the mirror, she was reminded of the evenings she and Lexa would spend getting ready for events. Persephone hadn’t grown up around mortals, so when she’d come to New Athens University, she had no experience with makeup or fashion. Lexa had shown her the ropes, and she’d been amazing at it.
Is amazing at it, Persephone corrected herself.
Lexa was alive.
Except that Persephone almost felt as though Lexa might as well be gone. The person sitting in that hospital room looked like her best friend but didn’t act like her.
Persephone’s eyes watered, and she took a breath, looking toward the ceiling. The lampades sensed her distress and patted her face and hair.
“I’m alright,” she whispered. “Just thinking about something sad.”
“Perhaps this will take your mind off it,” Hecate said, entering Hades’ chamber.
Persephone turned in her seat as the Goddess of Witchcraft approached with a long, white box. Inside was a beautiful gown. It was black with gold accents. The sleeves were off the shoulder, long, but split, giving the illusion of a cape.
“Oh, Hecate.
It’s beautiful,” Persephone said, twisting in front of the mirror after she’d put it on.
The dress wasn’t the only surprise Hecate had for her. She stood behind Persephone and moved as if she were placing something on her head. As she did, a crown appeared between her hands. It was iron and jagged, and it gleamed with shining obsidian, black pearls, and diamonds. Upon her head, it resembled a dark halo, ignited against her bright hair.
“You look beautiful,” Hecate said.
“Thank you,” Persephone breathed.
She didn’t recognize herself in the mirror and she wasn’t sure what was different—the crown, the dress, the makeup or something else? A lot of things had happened in the last month, and she felt the weight of it on her shoulders, on her chest, settling at the bottom of her stomach.
“Has Hades arrived?”
“I am sure he will come later,” Hecate said.
Persephone met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. She wanted Hades. They didn’t even need to talk; she just wanted his presence for comfort.
“Come, the souls have a surprise for you.”
Hecate reached for Persephone’s hand and they left Hades’ chamber. The lampades followed, zipping away to take their place outside.
The palace was decorated throughout. The bouquets of flowers Persephone and the others had worked on brought life to the shadow. Banquet tables were crowded with food and candlelight. The smells were mouthwatering. The French doors in the ballroom were open and led to the courtyard where a fire blazed and the souls had erected a maypole.
As Persephone stepped outside, the souls and daimons and nymphs cheered.
Yuri ran forward, taking Persephone’s hands.