Book Three in the Hades and Persephone series. Seventy years have passed since Elysion was created, and Persephone’s efforts to conceive a child with Hades have been in vain. But a secret rite on Samothrace might bend the Fates and give her all that they have dreamed of, or pave a path of untold suffering.
Chapter 8
Wind battered the west wall of the temple and guttered the torches. The winter had been a stormy one, a hard start to the season. The Thracians had worried that there hadn’t been enough sacrifices to Zeus at the Spring of Midas, The Arcadians swore that Poseidon had whipped up the seas in anger, and the Athenians worried that they hadn’t sent enough propitiations to Eleusis for Demeter.
But the summer had been kind to all. There were bountiful stores of grain— not just on Samothrace, but in every small village and great city in Hellas, Thrace, the islands and cities beyond. Orpheus stared out at the pool that dominated the center of the atrium. The oculus above and the slender clerestory windows had been sealed shut for winter, covered by tar-thatched reeds and battened down with hempen rope. It would keep the place warm for anyone seeking sanctuary. He reached the twelfth brazier and stoked it with an iron poker, the heat grown heavy beneath his woolen himation.
“Where did you hear the name Zagreus, hymnist?”
Every hair on his neck stood up. Orpheus stopped in his tracks and held his breath.
