Athena joined in, “Your stories… What a gifted story teller you are.”
“Oh.” She would gladly feign a headache, but she’d claimed such a malady too often of late.
“Are you well?” her mother asked.
Persephone drew in a slow breath. “I am. I am well.”
Hera and Demeter exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced.
“Are you sure, daughter?”
Hera asked, “Can you recall what you ate while in Hades’ home?”
Images, too painful to recall, too painful to ignore, filled her head and her heart. She stared at her hands again. Her knuckles were white, her fingers bloodless. She wiped her hands over her knees, under the guise of smoothing her skirts. When she looked up, Aphrodite’s blue eyes were full of tears.
Persephone felt her nerves rise up, and tore her gaze from Aphrodite.
“Nectar,” the word spilled from her lips. “And ambrosia… Nothing else.”
Demeter sighed, her face overcome with relief. She clasped her hands to her bosom, smiling at Hera. “I knew he would not…”
Athena shook her head, “Then why did you worry so? He’s done nothing to cause such suspicion… ever.”
“He avoids anything that might cause him upset,” Aphrodite added. Why were her blue eyes so intent?
“Look at her,” Hera argued. “Demeter has reason to worry…” Hera leaned forward, patting Persephone’s knee. “Sorry, dear. I only mean that it is a relief to know you’re not suffering from something more permanent.”
“Permanent?”
“From the food…” Athena shook her head.
“The food grown in Hades’ realm can only be eaten by those that reside there,” Hera explained.
“Oh, well.” She nodded. The apple she’d picked, for Orphnaeus. The apple he’d knocked from her hands…
“If you’d eaten it…” Demeter shivered, taking her hands. “I’d not think on such a thing.”
“You’ve no need to.” Athena rolled her eyes. “Shall we walk? In the gardens?”
Persephone stood, eager to find some occupation. “Oh, yes, please.”
Demeter patted her arm. “Then we shall walk.”
“There, you see.” Hera smiled and took Demeter’s arm as she spoke. “You’ve no reason to worry on that front.”
They walked on ahead, and Persephone found herself trailing behind.
“Can you blame? If it had been your Hebe, and not my Persephone… One bite would have ensured she was never free of the Underworld–”
“It matters not,” Athena’s impatience rang out. “She did not, not one bite. The Fates will not send her back… She is free. Enough. Let us enjoy the day with no more pointless worrying and carrying on.”
Persephone could not breathe. The world was spinning. Her mind was spinning.
She felt an arm, soft yet solid, slide around her waist.
“Careful,” Aphrodite murmured.
Persephone stared blindly, clinging to the Goddess. “But…” Her heart throbbed, as if some new wound had formed. “Why?”