The Good Counselor

"Ready?"

Persephone clicked her teeth together. "I suppose so."

"She did this on purpose," Athena said. "On the very day that

beast

will be there..."

"You could avoid Poseidon, you know." Her gateway through the ether twisted in a winding gyre of Phlegethon flame, and on the other side stood Olympus. "You don't

have

to accompany me."

"I know," said Athena. "And I hope you don't think that my ill temper is because of you. But she told

me

to bring you and what the Queen wants, the Queen gets. Father is always asking us to play nice with her. Much good it does any of us."

They stepped through. Persephone's first impression of Olympus had held true over the years. The garden was filled with perfectly manicured trees, shading plates of rich food from the perpetually bright sunshine. But the perfume of the vibrant flowerbeds was soured but the stink of unpicked rotting fruit, uneaten food, and spilled wine. Around every elegant bend was another display of intrigue, in each secluded bower more emotionless fornication. Deferential nymphs peered over cups of wine, gods and goddesses were swarmed by their retinues, each coincidentally finding a reason to be there to catch a rare glimpse of the Queen of the Underworld.

Persephone had returned only twice since her first visit: once at her husband's side to announce the creation of Elysion to Zeus and the

Dodekatheon

, and again as a guest of Aphrodite. She wished for an excuse not to come here, but everyone knew the sowing season had passed, and one didn't just turn down an invitation from the Queen of Heaven.

"You don't have to go in," Persephone said.

"Father wants me to."

"Why?"

"Strategy. He went easy on me for my role in Poseidon and Apollo's plotting. I was new to Olympus, then. He wants to make sure that his brother and I hate each other and never conspire again."

"Given your history with Poseidon, I can't see why he'd think that's likely."

"His punishment for the rebellion has been meted out slowly. He's been inflicting that

animal

on me for aeons now" Athena rearranged her scowl into a smile as they passed through the hall, and she straightened her shoulders.

Poseidon stood before the throne, tattooed arms folded. He turned and spread them wide, his sea green eyes lighting up when he saw Persephone. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise!"

She'd only seen Poseidon once, and even then in the most formal of circumstances, at the court of the

Dodekatheon

. Persephone started to bend her knee.

"No, no, we'll have none of that," Zeus said, descending the step of the dais. "You're Hades's Queen. Not my vassal. Relax here, daughter. Hera is looking forward to meeting you."

Poseidon cocked an eyebrow. "I was under the impression she and Amphitrite would be alone."

"I am no tyrant over my wife's hearth. She may invite who she likes. Besides: this is quite the occasion. The first meeting of the three goddess Queens. A momentous thing," he said slapping Poseidon's back. "Don't you think, brother?"

Poseidon folded his arms, his shoulders tense. "Indeed."

"Is Amphitrite here, your excellency?" Persephone said.

"My dear, you don't need to call me that, and no," he said, a smirk twisting up the corner of his mouth. "She's hunting."

"Not much untried quarry to be had here for

either

of you, uncle," Athena said, placing a protective hand on Persephone's shoulder. "If memory serves."

"We'll see." Poseidon replied. "If she's unsuccessful here, I could always send her to

your

temple."

Athena took a step forward and Persephone could feel the heat rising from her skin.

"If memory serves, it hosts the sweetest prey of all." Poseidon bared his teeth in a wide smile.

"Let's not start this again in front of our dear guest," Zeus said. "I want her to have a

good

impression of you both."

"Perhaps we should kiss and make up," Poseidon took a step toward Athena.

"

That's

—" Athena said, raising her voice. She took a quick breath and continued more calmly, "—quite unnecessary uncle. What are a few jokes among family?"

Persephone stayed quiet. Athena curtsied and quickly strode from the room, hounded by Poseidon's chuckles echoing through the marble halls. From the corner of the room came a glow of red and yellow, indigo and green.

A woman, kneeling low, shimmered as the light settled. She rose and faced Zeus. "Your grace, your illustrious wife sent me to escort her majesty Queen Persephone to her home."

"Yes, yes, thank your Iris," Zeus said, waving his hand. He turned to Persephone. "Well, I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. Sadly, I don't think I will be free when you are finished. There's much business that needs attending to."

"Fates, I hope not..." Poseidon muttered. He gave Persephone a kindly smile and nodded to her.

She nodded to her father and Poseidon, then followed Iris out of the symposium. Persephone had only seen her from a distance as a child. The goddess-in-waiting to Hera had hair like a raven's wing, tinged with every color of the rainbow, and her gown shifted color as she took Persephone through shadow and light in the marble halls and along the path to the Palace of Hera. The walk down the hill to Hera's villa made Persephone uneasy. How odd that Hera kept a separate home, a separate bed from her husband, and situated below his place at the peak of Olympus. Just as her throne was steps below that of the King of the Gods. Hades's Palace was Persephone's palace, and Persephone's bed was Hades's bed. Olympus again proved itself a world apart.

Like the other private palaces of the

Dodekatheon

, the grand villa was newer than the old citadel of Olympus itself— the original home of Gaia and Ouranos. Its columns were painted marble statues of women, the heavy balustrade beneath the domed ceiling resting on their uplifted arms.

"If you think this is impressive," a voice beside her whispered, "you should see ours beneath the waves. And saffron is a good color on you. The daughters of the sea don't wear that shade often. A pity."

Persephone blinked, startled from her reverie. Her unexpected companion was a curvy woman with rich umber skin and blue coral and cowry shells woven through her tightly braided hair. A diadem of cross sectioned conch shells sat above her thin eyebrows. She was clothed strangely, like the paintings of the priestess queens on Old Crete. Her flounced skirt and tight fitting blouse were made of an embroidered linen as diaphanous as sea foam. "Am— are you Amphitrite?"

"The same. Though perhaps it's not so grand. Poseidon and I have merely

one

bed to share, instead of two.

One

throne instead of a pretty chair three steps below the big one. The bed keeps him from straying too far if I'm there waiting every night, and sitting thigh to thigh keeps his eyes from wandering too far by day... "

Persephone's cheeks grew hot and she stared at Iris's back, wondering how much Hera's lady in waiting could hear.

"You're an earth goddess... wouldn't you agree that the best way to keep a man from sowing his wild oats is to make sure that his grain silo is always empty?"

"I hadn't heard that analogy before..."

"I hear you sit your

own

throne in Chthonia, but Fates— tell me

you

don't sleep separately from Hades," Amphitrite said, louder than was necessary for Persephone to hear her.

"Ah, no, our room is... we definitely— well, I suppose, for six months of the year..."

The sea goddess laughed and threw an arm around Persephone. "Don't be so nervous up here. They'll eat you alive. And

she

will think you're as much of a prig as she is."

Persephone's jaw fell slack and she stared at Amphitrite.

She bit her full lip and chortled. "I couldn't care less what the rainbow girl hears."

Iris's long peplos shifted from a sky blue to the violent gray green of a storm and she spun about. Her face was tight. She forced a smile and straightened her back, her dress lightening until at last it returned to a tranquil hue. She spoke to Persephone. "I shall introduce the consort of Poseidon first. You, as our

most

honored guest, shall be introduced last."

A delicate golden gate, it's filigree mimicking swirls of clouds and the eyes of peacock feathers, swung wide and Iris walked through, followed by Amphitrite and Persephone.

Amphitrite turned her head.

You, as our most honored guest, shall be introduced last

, she mouthed, exaggerating Iris's mannerisms. She ended her impression with a spin and a courtly bow. Persephone stifled a laugh.

They passed between the statues who held the ceiling aloft. One looked a bit like her mother. A peahen shrieked and ran across their path, pursued by a peacock. Iris turned the corner and led them through a grand hall, similar to the symposium of Olympus, but with watery light dimmed by gauzy blue veils and green drapes. The columns inside were enormous and carved at the base with stylized lotuses. Soft divans were scattered in clumps here and there, covered in plush fleeces and rolled wool pillows. Frescos and tapestries featuring lionesses with their young, pomegranates, and the ubiquitous peacock feathers plastered the walls. Shafts of light penetrated here and there, giving the strange feeling of being submerged, but the color and softness was welcoming after the Symposium. A delicate, jeweled throne dominated the center of the room, empty.

"Majestic Hera, most treasured daughter of Rhea, She of the Heights, Protector of Men, wife of Zeus Aegiduchos Cronides, and Queen of Heaven," Iris said to the empty throne, "may I present Amphitrite Halocydne Nereida, Lady of the Sea, Goddess of the Encircling Third, consort of Poseidon, and may I introduce Persephone Karpophoros Chthonios, Goddess of Spring, Exacter of Justice, consort of Aidoneus, and Queen of the Underworld."

As her titles were uttered, Persephone knelt to one knee, her head bowed. She pressed her right palm to the floor, just as her husband did when in the presence of Zeus, though she was uncertain to whom she was bowing. The throne before her was still empty. She kept her head lowered.

Amphitrite had given a customary nod and curtsy, but stood tall.

"We are all equals here. Please. Stand."

Persephone rose and looked for the source of the voice. Beyond the throne, a blue veiled woman sat at a loom, her back to them as she wove a fine woolen thread through the taut strands. Iris bowed low once, backed toward the door, curtsied, and departed.

Hera stood and pushed her veil off her head. Beneath were dark locks held up by a simple green filet. Her features were sharp, yet warm, large brown eyes that reminded Persephone of Aidoneus, and a thin, serene smile. Malachite hung heavy on her lids, and kohl rimmed the edges, making them appear even larger. "Come. I thought tea would be in order. If memory serves, wine is not preferred in the lands below, so we shall abstain."

Persephone felt tension leave her shoulders. "Tea would be fine, thank you."

"It might be a bit tepid. They took it off Hestia's hearth several minutes ago."

Was she late?

No, three hours past midday was the appointed time

, she thought.

Hestia

... Persephone tried to remember. The second Child of Kronos. Hera's closest friend, who had a vast collection of herbs and spices curated from all the plants of the world, some varieties lost for aeons. She cared for the plants, and tended to the hearth with which she cooked and warmed Olympus. And her gateway through the ether was the same as Persephone's: fire. "Will she be joining us also?"

"No."

She balked at Hera's abruptness. But then the Goddess Queen smiled broadly, exposing perfectly white, if slightly large teeth. "I thought it should just be us today. The three of us have never really met."

"A bit odd that you haven't invited her here," Amphitrite said, "since she has been Hades's queen for nearly four score years. We all thought you were going to go the whole one hundred before holding court with her."

Hera demurred. "Alas, we've been... preoccupied. Much has transpired in that time, no? And dear Amphitrite, how many times has Persephone been a guest at your palace?"

Persephone already felt like a country peasant here. Was she remiss in requesting an audience with Hera or paying fealty to the Queen? Had her oversight endangered the alliance between the Earth and the Heavens? Despite Hera's tone of friendliness and informality, Persephone kept alert, knowing that every word she chose might be perilous.

"Speaking of, Persephone, I must apologize to you." Hera moved closed to her, her eyes cast to the ground.

"For what?"

"When I sent you that pomegranate nectar..." She grasped Persephone's hands, her fingers warm, and looked at her with pleading eyes. "I never intended for my wedding gift to aid your mother's maidservant in causing so much trouble."

"There's nothing to forgive. I assure you."

"I understand you dealt with that wretch and your mother's base behavior rather succinctly."

Don't ever show them weakness

, Demeter had told her.

Let them believe what they must

, her husband had said. Persephone straightened her back. "Yes. I did."

"Ooh, there's an idea, Hera." Amphitrite giggled. "How do you suppose Zeus would react if you made his next dalliance burst into flames mid-stroke?"

"My ways are more subtle than that," Hera shot back at her. "Thanks to her resourcefulness, Persephone's husband was unharmed. And, if anything

had

transpired, Aidoneus wasn't himself. He had been poisoned by that whore, had he not?"

"With ergot," Persephone said guardedly.

"Well, as I said." Hera again cast her eyes to the ground. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Persephone, that you had to endure that."

"In the grand scheme of things," Persephone said with a strained smile, "nothing happened."

Hera clapped once, and three lady's maids dressed in identical sky blue peplum floated into the room, each bearing a steaming

kantharos

. Hera took her place on a divan, and Persephone and Amphitrite flanked her on couches of their own. Persephone didn't even get a chance to look into the eyes of the servant who bore the golden tray holding her tea: she was silently retreating as soon as Persephone's cup left the platter. The tisane was pink, and smelled sweet and pungent. Persephone realized that it was rose and jasmine— an honorary nod to her role as the Goddess of Spring. She inhaled and smiled.

"Now, Hera usually punishes those women's sons and daughters, rather... firmly," Amphitrite said, "But

you

... Is it true what I heard from Anauros of Thessaly about what you did to Kokytos, Minthe's own father?"

"That was... an unrelated matter. He violated the rules of my husband's kingdom and the dead cast many curses upon him for his wrongdoings. It was my duty to carry them out."

Amphitrite laughed. "You sound like Aidoneus. So grave! He's certainly wormed his way well into you, hasn't he?"

Persephone blushed and looked away, sipping her tea. A burst of sweetness revealed that it was full of ambrosia. She shouldn't be surprised. Ambrosia was in everything here.

"There's no need for you to embarrass her," Hera said under her breath.

"Please... we're all wives, here. And if they've already had a

hieros gamos

so impassioned that it created Elysion, a realm within their realm, I think that there's little left to blush about."

"Let

her

be the arbiter of that," Hera said, an edge creeping into her voice. She forced a smile and changed the subject. "I have not seen Elysion yet. Though I heard from my dear husband it is incomparably beautiful."

"I think it is," Persephone said. After they told Olympus of its existence, Zeus had made a rare descent into Chthonia to see the Elysian Fields himself. He had said almost nothing at the time, and had looked nervous.

"Tell us a little about it." Amphitrite said. Both she and Hera leaned forward.

"There's... the entrance is a grove of intertwined pomegranate trees within the palace garden. Well, it

was

within our garden. We removed part of a wall and a path was laid out to guide the worthy souls to their new home. Once inside, Elysion appears... expansive. There are many trees, of all varieties, some from lands that we've only heard about, and beyond that is a sea, with green, hilly islands dotting the surface."

"It must be vast," Hera said, her brow knitting. "How large is Elysion?"

"We haven't found its end yet."

Hera's eyes widened, then she quickly schooled her expression and took another sip. "How do you determine who enters?"

Persephone bit at her lip. "Aidoneus and I spent the better part of the last century combing Asphodel for the worthy shades. With some difficulty, we let them revisit their lost memories long enough to speak with us, and then either sent them back to the peaceful Fields, or rewarded them with Paradise."

"That sounds exhausting," said Amphitrite.

"Do you find these souls together during the winter, or does Aidoneus take it up when you are... with your mother?" Hera wrinkled her nose.

"I would not delay any of our— his subjects on my behalf. Aidoneus has ruled Chth— the Underworld for aeons. He is plenty able to search out the worthy shades without my assistance."

"You have made a great change in him, I think. I didn't take him for someone who is quite so compassionate. What of the recently departed?" Hera asked. "What must they do to gain entrance to Elysion?"

"Their soul must be prepared. Nothing more."

"Ah, your

Eleusinian

Mysteries

." Hera said, raising her eyebrows. She exhaled and turned to Amphitrite. "Any news from beneath the waves, Amphitrite?"

She smiled wide, her teeth showing brilliant white. "There is. I am expecting another child."

"Oh, by Poseidon?" Hera said over the rim of her cup.

"Oh yes," Amphitrite hissed at her. "And I would be happy to share every exquisite detail of how he—"

"Congratulations to you," Persephone interrupted. She hadn't come here for this. She could very well be with Aidon right now in the comfort of their villa in Thesprotia.

"Why thank you." Amphitrite smiled at her, and then winked. She knew that Persephone was trying her utmost to keep the peace. She readied her arrows for Hera anyway. "Poseidon was... very eager for another son."

"You know that it's a boy?" Persephone said, putting her cup down.

"Why yes," Amphitrite said. "

You

know how these things are known."

"I..."

"Your modesty is quite refreshing here, Persephone," Hera chimed in.

"I beg pardon," Persephone said, her eyes cast down on her cup. "But... I cannot claim modesty when I honestly do not know what either of you are talking about."

Hera put down her cup and canted her head. "Oh dear, I'm sorry, I had completely forgotten you have no children. How careless of me."

"Good! Then I'll explain it to her." Amphitrite stirred her tea. "After the deathless ones create a child, they can both ... learn about it together. Its sex, what it might look like, sometimes its sigil for the ether..."

"How?"

"By the simple touch of both, upon the womb," Hera said.

Amphitrite smirked. "Poseidon likes to find out from inside—"

"Persephone is too much of a

lady

to listen to any more of that."

"And what sort of lady? The kind that sits beneath her lover like a concubine?"

"The sort who doesn't speak like a concubine."

"At least

she

too is

her

husband's equal."

"That is not the order of things," Hera said quietly. "No matter how crookedly you've wound Poseidon around your finger."