Lady of Life and Death: A Persephone Novel (On Hold)

ii.

I have had many names. Names you mortals have forgotten. Names the gods have forgotten. Names even I have forgotten. Spring. Feyra. Proserpina. Kore. Persephone. I have a particular attachment to the last one. I give you my permission to call me it.

One day a Lampad referred to me as "my lady." Normally, the nymphs of the underworld referred to me as "My queen." It was my title, and although I despised it, I insisted I would be called by it. I could not be anyone if I was not respected. I might have been offended had it not been my last full day in the gruelish underworld my husband called home. My mind was far too occupied on the freedom of the land above only mere hours away—hours that seemed to stretch and sloth by more than any others when I was in the underworld.

The Lampad's interruption was both welcome and unwelcome. I was desperate for any task to keep my mind occupied during the long hours ahead, but still I loathed any interaction with the nobles of the underworld—which a messenger practically guaranteed. I shifted on the curving settee to focus my gaze on the underworld messenger. "Yes, Akantha?"

She gulped, unsettled. I knew her name—something she had not been expecting. My air of indifference in regards to the Lampads—nymphs of the underworld— must have let her believe I didn't know who was who. She was wrong. No move I made in this despicable place was without caution, without calculation.

Me knowing Akantha's name was a warning, it meant that she couldn't get away with the things she thought her anonymity let her. She now knew that if she misbehaved or did anything to upset me, I could go directly to the mistress of the house and have her punished.

Akantha was new to the royal staff, so it was odd that she was serving as a messenger to me. It probably also accounted for her slip-up. Finally, the nymph spoke, "The king has need of you in his chambers."

Oh, so that's why she was sent here. No one else wanted to deliver the bad news. "Were those his exact words?"

"Excuse me?"

"The king has need of me in his chambers. Did he use that specific phrase?

"Er—I think so—Yes"

"Then tell him I am not here to meet his needs."

I waved my hand and she scurried off.

I reclined back on the settee and called for some wine. I fanned myself and seconds later a shadowed handmaid refilled my glass with the crimson liquid. As I sipped it, I prepared myself for my encounter with my husband. He often called for me in the throne room when he wanted to show me off, whether it be to a particularly important soul or to a god themself. Those encounters were not so bad. All I had to do was to sit still and look queenly, and I did so, preferably while consuming large amounts of alcohol.

The page-nymph returned, looking a tad jittery "The king asks that you join him in his chambers."

In his chambers. That was different. Usually, I was ordered to the throne room. "Then tell him I decline his offer." I knew this back-and-forth would eventually end in me succumbing to my husband's demands, but it was fun to stall.