Icross the forecourt and climb the steps. This time it's easy finding Hades. Loud voices rise from a closed room. We have company.

   That's not going to stop me.

   I push open the heavy door, and Hades' voice snaps off abruptly, like a sword coming down on an enemy's neck. There's dead silence. The air is thick. It's like I'm wading into the room.

   Hermes stands by the window, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. He stares over at me, his mouth a thin, determined slash.

   Hades is leaning over our inlaid gaming table, clenching the sides so tightly, a crack snakes across the polished wood. His eyes blaze at Hermes as pure and destructive as fire, like Cerberus on the attack. His head pivots toward me, and he straightens, letting the table go. Two halves clatter to the floor.

   He strides over and slams a possessive arm around my shoulders. I tighten my hold on the pomegranate.

   I'm not even going to ask. Whatever it is, I don't care. Nothing will change my mind. I'm going to talk to Hades. Now.

   "Hermes, I need to speak with my husband."

   Hermes doesn't budge. Hades is gripping me too tightly. I look from one face to the other.

   "Alone," I say.

   "There isn't time," says Hermes. "I have my orders."

   "Damn your orders," says Hades.

   He swivels me around to face him. My hand, cradling the pomegranate, is trapped between us.

   "Your mother has played her hand," he says, anger dripping like venom.

   "She made a deal with Zeus," says Hermes, not moving from the window. "You come back, she stops. No more destruction. She'll allow sun and rain in balance. Crops will grow, animals fatten, people thrive, and the gods will be appeased with their sacrifices again."

"Zeus can do that? He can call me back?" I ask.

The two of them answer simultaneously.

"Yes," says Hermes.

"No," says my husband.

   The "no" slides off my back like water. I can't believe my luck! Now I can do everything I need to do, with an easy chariot ride back to Philomena and my mother.

   "Give me an hour to change," I say, looking down at my chiton. Mud and dirt mingle with browning smears of blood from Melita's arm.

   "What?" says Hades, incredulous. "You want to leave?"

   "This won't take long," I say. "There's something I have to do on Earth—I'll tell you later, when there's time—and my mother needs to see I'm all right. She's worried about me; that's why she's trying to bring me home. Back in the throne room, I was still figuring it out. I tried to tell you."

   "Oh, you didn't need to tell him," says Hermes. "He knew, from the day you got here."

   I shake my head at him. "He's glad to have more subjects, I know that, but he wouldn't keep something this important from me."

   But that's no expression of innocence I'm seeing on Hades' brow. He's seething.

   "Traitor!" he snarls at Hermes.

   Hermes is cold and determined. "He knew your mother was doing everything she could to bring you back, and he liked the results. He said not to tell you."

   "Not to tell me!" I stare up into Hades' eyes. "Say that's not true. Go on, say it."

   He looks away.

   My heart plummets. So he knew all along. That whole time I was worrying about my mother trying to force me back, it was Hades manipulating me, using me to gain power and covering it up with kisses. And I just trotted alongside as obediently as one of his horses.

   I'm not feeling so obedient now.

   "Mortals have been dying in my name and you didn't bother to tell me? I thought you loved me! But you don't even trust me with the truth. What kind of love is that? Or maybe"—I pause for a second, my disbelief deepening into anger—"maybe you only pretended to love me back in the vale, so I'd come with you! You knew what my mother would do to get me back. You knew more people would die. Is that all I am for you? A weapon for your war?"

   "That's one accusation you can't make," growls Hades. "I didn't pretend. I love you. But I thought once you heard, you'd go soft-hearted and leave. Was I so wrong? Look at you now, ready to run home to your mother."

   I don't believe this!

   "You never even let me talk about Earth!" I say. "Every time I said the word you cut me off, so you wouldn't lose a single corpse."

   The pomegranate is growing heavier in my hand. It must be packed full of seeds, each one a chance to start the cycle of life again. That's what he doesn't understand.

   "Don't you remember what you said to me back in the vale?" I ask. "You said we made a cycle complete. Remember?"

   "Of course I remember."

   "Well, you can't have shades without mortals." My voice grows stronger with each word. "If nobody is born, nobody dies. Who's going to come to the underworld then? No one, not one single shade for the rest of eternity! What kind of cycle is that? And you, the eternal ruler of a static realm, what will you do then—run shades through the Lethe over and over so you can pretend they're new? No, the only way to keep your precious power is to save mankind!"

   Hades is speechless after my tirade. When I glance at Hermes I see his mouth is agape.

   "So I'm going to Earth," I say. "For the sake of mortals and the sake of our realm. And when I come back, there are going to be some changes around here."

   Hermes' mouth snaps shut.

   "That's the thing," says Hades. "You won't be coming back."

   What? Not come back?

   The thought explodes inside me, leaving an echoing hollow in its wake. For the first time, I stare at Hades' eyes, his hands, as if I might never see them again.

   "Look," says Hermes in a gentler voice. "I've always been Hades' friend. That's why I didn't tell you before. So I want to make sure you understand everything now. Zeus isn't suggesting you come to Earth for a visit. He's commanding you to live there forever. The underworld is closed to you, as they say, henceforth."

   No! They must be wrong!

   "That's impossible," I insist. "Once my mother sees I'm fine, once I tell her what idiots my husband and I have been, not letting her know"—I stop to look pointedly at Hades— "she'll let me return, and Earth will heal."

   "She won't let you return," says Hades in a clipped voice.

   "She wants you on Earth," says Hermes.

   "She still sees you as a child. But you're a woman, a queen."

   Their voices are turning into a chorus, the hard, short lines banging down like nails into a coffin.

   "You're giving up your home," says Hermes. "Your work."

   "You'll never see me again," says Hades.

   "And you won't even save mankind. Demeter has found her weapon."

   "She'll scorch the land whenever she wants her way."

   "You're giving up everything for nothing."

   "If you go, you won't come back."

There's a pause.

"Just so we're clear on that," says Hermes.

   They're both staring at me, waiting. One for me to go, the other for me to stay.

   In the silence, the pomegranate warms my hand. It tells me I know what I have to do. But that doesn't make it easy.

   I look into Hades' eyes. "I'll take my chances," I say. "I'm going."

   I hold out the ripe, round fruit. "I grew this with my friend, a shade. I promised to rescue her daughter. To save her, and Earth, I have to go. Even if Zeus didn't command it, I'd go."

   Hades stares at the pomegranate as if seeing it for the first time, his eyes opening wide.

   "Maybe you're right and this will cost me everything," I say. "Maybe I won't be able to come back here. But then at least you'll know what it's like for mortals, losing what they love."

   Losing it forever.

   My voice rises and I brandish the red orb in front of his face. "Maybe then you'll think about balance for a change! Yes, I'm going. Don't you see? That's why you'll still have a realm to rule."

   Hades listens, thinking.

   I don't know whether to shout or cry.

   "You've been a glutton for power!" I say. "You kept the

truth from me! You've been thoughtless and selfish and—"

My hand, with its burden, comes to rest on his chest.

"And I love you. I still love you."

   I love him so deep down it shakes me, and being angry doesn't change that one bit.

Suddenly, Hades tenses. His eyes dart to the window where Hermes leans, adjusting the wings on his sandals.

   "All right. So you're going," says Hades.

   Hermes and I both stare in disbelief. Hades is giving in.

   "Hermes," he says. "Before this day we were friends. In the name of that friendship, give me a last few moments alone with my wife."

   Hermes realizes he's won, and his face relaxes.

   "Zeus said not to let Persephone out of my sight." He shifts from foot to foot. "This isn't easy for me, either, you know. Still . . ." He runs his fingers through his hair, thinking. "I guess it's enough if we're in the same room."

   He turns his back to us and stares resolutely out the window. "This is the best I can do for your private farewell," he says, and starts humming loudly to create a few moments of privacy.

   Hades looks back at me, eager. For a last kiss? He leans in so close our mouths almost touch. Then he says softly, his breath warm in my ear, "Let's share it, then. Your pomegranate."

"Now?"

   "Now. As a token of the love that will bind us, even when you're on Earth."

   So hushed, so intimate. My anger fades. The only thing I feel is what I risk losing.

   I start tugging at the little red crown and one of the spikes breaks off in my hand, a miniature cat's ear. An acrid smell rises, green fresh and red sweet at the same time. The next spike comes off and a fragment of rind. Soon the whole crown is gone, but all I've done is reveal a jagged patch of yellowish pith. I still can't open the fruit.

   Maybe it wasn't ready after all. Maybe it fell off too soon.

   I pull off another chunk and another, and now all my easy fingerholds are gone. Still the fruit sits there, encased, secretive. Only one tantalizing, shiny spot peers up at me from the pith, a little dark eye.

   Hades' breath has been coming faster and faster. Exasperated, he rips the pomegranate from my hand, pulls a knife from his waistband, and slashes into the thick hide.

   Red juice splatters my chiton, next to the mud stains and the smears from Melita's bleeding arm. A sharp scent slices the air. A handful of seeds splashes onto the marble floor like drops of blood, an offering.

   And they're crowded in—a family of seeds, a womb crammed so tight, the bodies push curved indentations into the hard pulp like a river carves canyons into rock. Each seed barely restrains its load of red juice under a translucent membrane. Through the juice, in the center of each, shines a white core. New life.

   Now that the hide is broken, Hades peels a chunk of seeds away; they cling to each other and to their raft of rind. Each seed is faceted like a crystal, and facet fits into facet with the perfect order of a honeycomb.

   I tumble a bunch of seeds into my palm. Like beads. Like drops of fire.

   Hades takes my wrist, stopping me, the shining drops cradled in my palm.

   "If you love me," he whispers, "if you truly want to return to my side, and only then, eat."

   I toss them in my mouth.

   Sweet and tart, the burst of juice, the crunch of tiny seeds between my teeth. A lingering sharpness on the back of my tongue. Another. And another.

   And now I lift my hand to his mouth to complete the ritual.

   "Only if you truly love me," I whisper, and he opens his mouth and I feed him.

   Now, when I'm on the verge of leaving, now I know. Yes, he wanted my power, whatever he thought it might be. But that wasn't all. He loves me. And now that may have to be enough for eternity.

Hermes clears his throat, turns, and walks toward us.

   I can tell Hades is ready to let me go. It's the oddest thing: he looks strong and determined, not defeated at all. That must be what comes with practice ruling a great land. I guess I can carry that much away with me, too.

   So I throw my shoulders back, lift my head, and say with as much strength as I can muster, "I'm ready."

   "Not quite," says Hades.

   He wraps me in his arms and we kiss, a huge kiss, a hungry kiss, a soft kiss, a kiss to last forever.

   Until it ends, and I walk, past spatters of blood-red juice, toward the door.