Page 17 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Perseus ascended onto the deck, the sun reflecting off the waves of the Aegean Sea blinding him. The endless expanse of water did nothing to brighten his mood, nor did the soft breeze ruffling his ebony curls.
He snarled to no one in particular, though a group of sailors had gathered to eavesdrop, “No one goes to the brig. No one talks to her. No one opens or enters her cage, is that understood?”
The men scattered, but Perseus could hear their whispers, “Why didn’t he just kill the monster when we had the drop on her? I heard that he had the gorgon defeated, unconscious at his feet. All Perseus had to do was swing his sword.”
“Keeping her alive is putting all our lives at risk; she will take her revenge on us if she manages to break out.”
Perseus felt their gazes burning into his back as he strode across the deck. What little trust he had built with the crew during their journey had been shattered .
He shook his head. He did not fully understand himself why he had been unable to kill the gorgon. Perseus had hoped that interrogating Medusa would help him make a decision. He had hoped she would either prove to be the cruel beast from the tales or give him a reason to spare her — something to make this crew understand. Yet, the beast had taunted, teased, and challenged him but refused to answer his questions — even at the cost of her head. And what she did tell him made no sense. The few words she had spoken lingered in his mind. I can assure you that I have never murdered an innocent man .
He considered retreating below deck once more, craving the quiet of his cabin to sort his racing thoughts. Ever since he had left that cave, he suffered from a pounding migraine.
Before he could reach the ladder, promising soothing darkness of the ship’s hull void from judging eyes, Kleos intercepted him. He stepped out of the shadows of the mast, a worried expression on his face.
“You know Kleos, for such a massive man, you sure have an uncanny ability to sneak up on people,” Perseus huffed. He was not in the mood for company.
“What can I say? The gods have blessed me with the stature of a titan and the grace of an antelope,” Kleos shrugged, an amused twinkle in his dark-blue eyes.
Even after being injured by Medusa, Kleos was still as loud and carefree as ever. The gorgon’s talons had left angry marks on his face, but that did not keep him from smiling broadly or drinking excessively and sparring with the other men. Often, the sailors would take bets on who would win. Sometimes, they wagered extra rations and even drachmae — not that Kleos needed more money than he already had. He purely fought for the thrill of winning.
Kleos’s laughter ceased, his expression suddenly serious. Perseus already dreaded the conversation they were about to have.
“Can we talk… in private?” his friend asked.
Perseus nodded reluctantly, descending the steps and pushing open the creaking door to his dim cabin. He filled two chipped wooden cups with watered-down wine, the liquid sloshing over the edges, and motioned for Kleos to sit by the table.
Kleos did not speak immediately, savouring the contents of his cup first. Perseus’s thoughts drifted toward Medusa. Despite the terror Medusa had inflicted on his crew — and countless others — Perseus was consumed by curiosity. He could still see the anguish contorting her monstrous face when he questioned her about the curse.
Kleos returned him to reality, “We need to kill it.”
“What?!”
“We need to kill it.”
“No — I can’t do that. She’s wounded — and it wouldn’t be right … I — You know I have never killed before. I can’t do it — not before I am certain she deserves her fate.”
Perseus broke off. Of course, he should have considered this before offering Polydectes the gorgon’s head. Yet, he had not stopped to question whether he would be capable of taking another’s life to save his mother’s.
“She? You talk as if that thing isn’t just a bloodthirsty monster,” Kleos countered, his voice laced with anger.
He didn’t insult his friend by denying Medusa’s thirst for blood. Their brief exchange had revealed her lack of remorse. The slow smile that had spread on her lips when she had challenged him to untie her flashed in his mind. Perseus knew Medusa would relish in killing him, tearing him apart limb by limb — given the chance. Kleos was probably right to call her a monster, yet the gorgon was not the mindless beast he had expected to face either. He had seen her fear when she had woken up in the cave with him looming over her. He had heard the pain in her voice when she spoke of the goddess that had cursed her.
“What happened?” Kleos's voice snapped Perseus back to the present. “I was watching you when you came on deck. After speaking to her for what — thirty minutes? — you came back up looking more curious than anything?” Kleos’s eyes bored into Perseus as if trying to read his mind.
Kleos pressed on, desperate to make him see reason, “Do I need to remind you what’s at stake here, Perseus? This is not about satisfying your morbid curiosity or your sense of honour. None of that matters, not if you want to save Danae from—”
“Enough, Kleos,” Perseus cut him off, his temper flaring. He didn’t need Kleos to remind him what was at stake. He was painfully aware of what his damned conscience might cost him. “I have heard enough. I understand your concerns, but I can’t do it.”
He had tried to sound calm, but his voice trembled. Still, he had made up his mind, his decision final.
Kleos did not heed his request. “Why not? The creature is —”
“Stop Kleos! I have made my decision.”
“But that is an idiotic decision!”
Perseus cut off his protest. “First, I will get my answers out of her — it. I need to understand the extent of her crimes and why she has been transformed into a gorgon. Once I am satisfied, I will kill her, but you and the crew will have to wait until then.”
Kleos stared at him, his mouth agape as if Perseus had just declared he wanted to travel to the edge of the world to take the burden of the sky off Atlas’s shoulders.
Perseus had never used this tone when speaking to his friend, but it was too late to take back his sharp words. At least the stubborn oaf finally seemed to understand that Perseus was serious.
Kleos stood from the chair, shaking his head in disappointment as he marched from the cabin. He pushed past Perseus, his voice low, “Just don’t wait too long with your decision. The crew is restless with that thing onboard — if they feel like you have abandoned our mission, they will mutiny.”