She descends slowly—a woman who knows how to make an entrance even when she's not the one doing the entering. Her scarlet gown trails upward behind her, its constellation of tiny rubies glimmering in the light of the crystal cluster chandeliers. Her hair—a shade of burgundy so dark it's almost black—is swept up into a crown at the top of her head and cascades in curling waves down her back. Even her skin, otherwise an ashen brown, shimmers in hues of violet-red where the light hits it just so.

"Welcome, daughter-to-be," she says as she reaches the last of the stairs, arms extended to me, her voice rich and musical. Her eyes—however, have a hunters glint to them. Hesitating, I step into her embrace. She kisses my cheek, enveloping me in an intense aroma of roses, wet earth, cinnamon and blood.

Seeing her in person, it's impossible to believe she's almost four hundred years old. She doesn't look a day over thirty.

We follow her to her dining chamber, where the table is set for three.

A tall but narrow window to one end of the room looks out over Styx. The rest of the walls are lined in silver-framed screens that display luscious landscapes of Old Earth.

As Synthes stream into the room with our first course, Rhea settles the entirety of her attention on me.

"Thank you for joining us tonight, Kore. And with everything you've been through, too. I'm so sorry about your sister, but you must know that we are doing everything we can to assist in apprehending the assassin,"

"The would-be-assassin," corrects Aidon, flashing her a disapproving look.

"Just so," she agrees. "It's just that I have so little time to get to know you before you become a part of my family forever. I hope you'll forgive my impatience."

"Of course, Your Majesty," I murmur, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her scrutiny. "It's important to me to honor my commitments."

"I've very glad to hear that," she says, wrapping her slender fingers about the stem of her wine glass as the Synthe behind her fills it.

"A toast," she says, lifting her glass once Aidon's and mine are also full. "To your future together."

My fiancé and I flash each other a look—and for a moment I remember Hecate's words of just a few hours earlier. But if the drink were poisoned, my Guardian would have detected it. As I bring the glass to my lips, I can't help but think the wine smells a little unusual. But then, I've never smelt wine with the senses of a Variant before—and insulting Rhea by not joining her toast could be just as dangerous as any alternative.

I mean to take only a small sip, but the moment the fluid touches my tongue it's as though my willpower evaporates. It's absolutely delicious. I drink deeply, putting my glass down last of the three of us. It lights a spark of warmth and vigor in my belly that quickly spreads through my veins. Rhea smiles dazzlingly at me, and I smile back.

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Aidon eyes me with a touch of concern. "Perhaps some food, Kore? Have you eaten anything at all today?"

"Oh!" I startle, turning my attention to my salad and herb-crusted bread. With the buzz of the wine easing my tension, I set into it—realizing for the first time how hungry for proper food I really am. Next comes soup, and then the main course—truffle royale and a whole roasted king fowl, both delicacies that comes only from the farm forests of Gaia. Glazed in a sweet red sauce and served on a bed of pomegranate seeds, the meat's crispy on the outside and tender and juicy within. I eat two servings, finishing my wine between bites.

As we dine, we engage in amiable small-talk. By the time my plate is empty and a Synthe is refilling my wine glass, I'm actually feeling comfortable. Almost even good.

Then Rhea puts her silverware down and fixes me with her blood-red glare.

"So, Kore, what exactly makes you think you're worthy of my son and my crown?"

Immediately my stomach clenches.

"I...what?"

She exhales through her teeth as she stands, almost a hiss.

"The treaty dictates that every new ruler of Hades must take an heir of the house of Demeter for their spouse, to reign at their side." She circles the table, coming towards me. Aidoneus's chair scrapes across the floor as he gets to his feet.

"Mother, what are you—"

But her hand flies up as if to block his words as she continues.

"There were only two daughters this generation, and you're just the leftover. The one who wasn't good enough to take on Gaia's mantle. We may be stuck with you, but please. Tell me something, at least, to console me."

I look up at her, frozen. Completely at a loss.

Then she grabs me by the arm, yanking me sideways from the chair. I shout wordlessly in shock as Aidon launches forward to my defense. But Rhea flicks her hand in his direction, and he stops in his tracks—veins bulging and eyes burning with rage. Unable to move so much as a finger.

My blood runs ice-cold. It's one thing to know the power of a Gaia Variant. Another thing entirely to see it in action.

"What are you?" She demands, shaking me—her nails digging into my arm. Behind me, the Guardian whirs nervously closer, its programming at odds with itself. Harming Rhea would be a political disaster, and even my own Guardian takes the greater good of my people into account when it comes to its actions.

"I don't know!" I say, voice breaking. "Please, I don't—"

Then she slaps me, hard, across the face. Even as the pain of the blow reverberates through my flesh, she shoves me away from her—sending me sprawling across the floor, legs tangling with the fabric of my skirt.

"Well, what are you? Are you as worthless as you look? Tell me!"

I slide backwards, away from her, heart battering my ribs as my hair comes undone, falling into my face.

"Well?"

And then it's as if a spark lights within me, searing away my fear and confusion. Transmuting it into something else.

She strides after me—dress billowing behind her and steel in her eyes as she pulls her foot back for a kick, aiming at my gut.

That's when the spark becomes an inferno. Before I know it, I'm on my feet.

"Stop!" I shriek, and power pulses outward with the word, as tangible as the air rushing from my lungs.

There's a cacophony of sounds—cracking, rustling, and a series of ear-splitting crunches—and then a tangled mass of something shoots across the room from the right, engulfing Rhea almost completely for a moment before lifting her up off the ground, arms squeezed to her sides. Completely immobilized by the coils of roots wrapping around her body. My eyes follow them to their source.

The small copse of pomegranate trees now growing from, around, and through Rhea's stone dining table.