Page 1 of The Dread Queen's Bargain

Prologue

Persephone was the goddess of spring and the queen of the Underworld.

She didn't know about the latter.

When Persephone was born, the Fates made a rare visit to Olympus. They warned Demeter of Persephone’s legacy, which would surpass her mother’s. Their vague warning declared that the young goddess’s powers would far exceed those on Mt. Olympus, and her reach would be greater than that of Zeus. Of course, all of this would pass only once Persephone was wed. She would spend the first portion of her life as Kore, the maiden, growing her affection for the mortal world while working alongside her mother.

Demeter, hearing this, flew into a rage. If not for Zeus threatening to put her in chains, Demeter was prepared to send the world into a famine if the Fates didn't retract their prophecies.

The Fates refused to return to Olympus and replied if Demeter had questions, she had to come to the Underworld and ask them like the rest of the gods. Demeter, now furious and living in fear of the Underworld, refused to go.

Demeter swore an oath that day that Persephone would never be married and would never leave her. There had never been a mother more afraid of her child’s potential for greatness. This was an accomplishment in and of itself, considering how patricide and family feuds were so typical amongst the gods. Demeter swore until she was blue in the face, promising she would wreak havoc if her daughter was ever taken from her.

The irony of this, however, lay in the oaths Demeter swore. Even for all of her enthusiasm, they were for naught. The strongest oath a god could swear was an oath on the waters of Styx. Demeter refused to go near the Underworld, especially Styx. She’d learn how futile her anger was in the centuries to come.

Persephone was too young to remember any of this happening. As she aged through the years, Demeter purposefully weakened her education. She kept her in youthful clothes and refused to see her as an adult.

Demeter threatened the lives of the mortals and, in turn, the mortal’s sacrifices. Under the direction of Zeus, the pantheon of Olympus was all too happy to pretend they hadn’t heard the Fates’s prophecy.

They went along with Demeter’s charade, always speaking down to Persephone, telling elaborate tales of their childhoods, and pretending their adolescence lasted millennia—all except Hermes, whom Demeter refused to let near Persephone.

Persephone only knew of the goddesses of the Underworld by name and role. Demeter spoke of them as horrid beasts and shades, not beautiful, powerful goddesses who could easily hold court alongside Artemis, Athena, or Hestia.

It had been over a thousand years, and Persephone was getting harder to keep in the dark.

Demeter didn’t realize she’d lost her daughter centuries ago. Gossip and stories were all too easy to come by in ancient Greece, and by visiting the mortals and accepting their sacrifices, Persephone knew more than her mother wanted to realize.

There was one rule Demeter stuck to above all else—the rule that would inevitably set the Fates’s prophecy in motion.

Demeter never, ever said the name Hades aloud.

And Persephone loved nothing like a good mystery.

1

Persephone stretched out in the sun. It was a hot day, and Apollo must’ve been idling in the sky. The afternoon seemed to last forever as Persephone relaxed in the grass, letting her mind wander. She was blissfully alone—she’d finally managed to slip past Kalligeneia’s watchful eye. Kalligeneia, one of her mother’s nymphs, had been watching over Persephone since she was an infant. Neither Kalligeneia nor Demeter wanted to accept that Persephone was hardly a child.

Persephone was several hundred years old. It was a conversation she’d had too many times, leaving her increasingly exasperated every time. Demeter and Kalligeneia refused to accept that Persephone was a grown woman several times over.

‘What’s several hundred years to a god? Once you’ve hit your first millennia, we can talk.’

Demeter’s words from the night before echoed in Persephone’s mind. She ran her fingers through the grass and cursed under her breath. She’d been too restless for her own good lately. Nothing was helping. Her everyday responsibilities—anything from tending to crops to minding flower beds with the nymphs—held no interest for her. Persephone had been waking up from strange dreams she couldn’t remember, and her powers were starting to fail.

Persephone usually controlled several aspects of nature as easy as breathing. She could make crops grow and rivers flood. Her abilities could even overpower some of the minor deities associated with the weather. Anything relating to spring’s promise, bringing forth fresh life and fertility, Persephone could conjure.

Except recently, every other thing she touched died.

“Maybe I’m going insane,” Persephone spoke aloud to no one.

She rolled onto her stomach and studied a patch of wildflowers several feet away. She raised her hand, snapped her fingers, and held her breath…as several nearby blooms immediately wilted and died.

“Shit.” Persephone cursed, sitting up and pinching the bridge of her nose. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

Anxiety started to build in Persephone’s chest. She didn’t want to bring this up with Kalligeneia. Or Demeter. They’d undoubtedly lose their minds and would find a way to use it as proof that Persephone wasn’t as grown as she claimed to be. There was a good chance it’d threaten the mortal world too.

When Persephone first matured and could no longer wear the short tunic preferred by children, instead opting for a longer, more appropriate peplos, Demeter was so upset, it’d caused a significant drought. Persephone was forced back into wearing shorter tunics.

It wasn’t only the nightmares and the reversal of her powers. Persephone sensed something different running through her veins, a dark, heady power for which she had no name. It equally intrigued and frightened her—gods couldn’t get sick and die, but what if this was some horrible curse? She was confused and scared but not yet worried enough to threaten hundreds of human lives by admitting to Demeter something was wrong.

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