She brought the bright skinned fruit to her lips. “It should not go to waste.”
The strangest expression settled over him. His eyes widened, then narrowed. His mouth opened, then pressed tightly closed. When the skin of the fruit met her lips, he knocked it free.
The fruit tumbled to the ground and Orphnaeus devoured it.
Persephone stared at Hades. “Hades–”
“You cannot eat the food of the Underworld,” Hades snapped, running a hand through his thick black hair. His eyes flashed as he glared down at her. “Never. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her mind reeling with confusion. “But–”
“No,” he shook his head, his hands clasping her upper arms. “You must not. I fear the consequences of such a thing.”
“’Tis an apple,” she protested.
His mouth twitched, but his fingers tightened about her arms. “An apple grown here, in the realm of the Dead. It is by the Fates’ decree…”
She touched his cheek. “Peace, Hades. I will not eat. I need no more explanation than that.”
But she wondered at the wariness upon his face as he urged them to return to his home.
###
“I cannot, Father.” Ione grasped his hands, kneeling in front of Erysichthon. “Please, please do not make me do this.”
“Make you?” His words were hard. “Where is the dutiful daughter I raised? After what I have done for you… Need I remind you of my generosity, child? Remind you that I took you in when your husband discarded you?”
“He discarded me for fear of incurring Olympus’ wrath. After you cut Demeter’s trees he had no choice–”
“So you blame me for his weakness?” He pulled his hands from hers and stood. Was no one faithful anymore? Did none value fealty? “You would desert me too?” Erysichthon did not look at her. “My own daughter?”
His eyes swept the room. Leaves blew across the unkempt marble floor. The candles had long since burned down, leaving the room in shadows, but no servants remained to change them. No one was left to serve him. Those soldiers that had returned he’d sent searching, always searching…
He winced as his empty belly clenched. He turned, staring at the weariness on his once beloved child’s face.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Father.” She stood, coming to his side. Her face was thinner, her eyes shadowed. “I’ve done all that you’ve asked of me, have I not?”
He nodded, his hand cupping her cheek. “You are a good daughter, Ione, when you choose to be.”
Her lower lip wavered then, reminding him of Persephone. Could he find no reprieve from her memory? He shook his head, groaning as his bowels twisted within him.
“I am a good daughter. Your daughter,” she cried, her voice hitching. “Flesh of your flesh, your only child... and you sell me… for…for bread and wine…”
“I must keep my strength and wits about me.” He scowled at her.
“There must be another way–”
“I’ve never sold you for whoring, Ione, only as servant. You’ve no need to act so affronted. You should be pleased. I never thought you capable of finding a champion in Poseidon…” He broke off, the ache in his stomach overwhelming him.
“He is no champion.” Her voice was bitter. “He demands payment, I assure you.” She grabbed his arm, steadying him as he bent low from the spasms.
He smiled, amused. “You are… a comely woman, Ione. If Poseidon wants you–”
Her voice trembled. “He did, when first we met. He had certain… expectations of me once he’d helped me leave that brutal fisherman’s wife. But when he knew who I was, whose daughter I was…” She shook her head. “It troubled him to look at me.”
“And yet, he helps you still.” Erysichthon sighed, growing annoyed with his daughter’s complaints.
“And each time his patience thins; I see it. Three times he’s returned me to you… I’d almost welcome his advances if it replaced the anger within him–”