“I smooth my hands over the punch-stained ruffles, taking a deep breath. Persephone is still Persephone even in the winter, I remind myself. And I am still Lila even though my dress is stained. Even though I fell onstage. Even though I was banished because of it. I am still Lila.
And as Lila, I descend.
The crowd erupts in a roar. They holler and cheer and throw just as many flowers as they did for Roisin. Roses, marigolds, and violets hit the glossy marble steps like confetti. Their applause floods me, turning me full, just like it did when I took my final bows onstage after a show. I throw on my best smile, waving like the pageant queen I pretend to be. Roisin howls, screaming my name with the crowd. The praise goes to my head. It's like I'm the Queen of Hell, like Persephone herself. And, as I reach the final step, I re-emerge into spring.”