Page 26 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The incessant crashing of waves against the hull had finally ceased, replaced by the cries of seagulls and the bustle of activity on deck. Medusa heard her captor barking orders. The ship shuddered to a halt, the ropes thrown and tied to the dock. The ground beneath Medusa was still at last. They had reached shore.

Medusa would have felt relief if not for the approaching footsteps. They signaled Perseus’s return. Perseus . Her enemy finally had a name. The enemy, who had jumped into the Aegean Sea to save her from drowning. Why had he done that? Had he not called her a monster that deserved to be culled from this earth? Had he not claimed right after pulling her from her watery grave that he would be the one to speak her death sentence? Yet, when Medusa had awoken in her cell, shivering in her drenched clothes, a woollen blanket had appeared beside her.

It was infuriating that she could not figure out his intentions. She needed to understand her enemy if she wanted revenge. Especially because he couldn’t be fully mortal — not when lightning responded to his temper. A shiver went down Medusa’s spine.

Perseus’s voice broke through her thoughts, “We’ve reached Joppa. We’ll restock here for a few days.”

How had they ended up on Joppa’s coast? She recalled him mentioning that they were headed for Seriphos. The island lay West of Cisthene, so how had they ended up so far South? The questions burned in Medusa’s mind — alongside with, who the Hades he really was? Or, more accurately, what was he? Did he know which god’s blood flowed through his veins?

But Medusa didn’t ask any questions. Instead, she shrugged, “That’s nice. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I have been invited to the palace tonight — being on an official mission from King Polydectes. I will barter for a new ship as ours has been wrecked during the storm. And when I return … you and I will face each other in battle.”

So, he had finally decided to kill her. However, her upcoming demise was not the reason her stomach suddenly twisted.

“And what will happen to me while you’re gone?”

“Nothing. You’ll stay in your cell like a good little prisoner. My crew will keep an eye on you.”

Dread filled her body as the familiar tide of icy water began rising in her chest, terror threatening to seize control of her mind once more. He planned to leave her behind with his men. Alone. She still felt the scorch marks where their hands had grabbed her to drag her on deck. Their jeers echoed in her head. They had pulled her hair, and one of them had squeezed her rear when they had debated what to do with her. She had thrashed against their grip to make them see her as a wild beast that needed to be put down — not as a woman. Never as a woman, for she did not want to imagine how they would torture her then.

“No,” she gasped, bile rising in her throat.

She would rather die than be left to the whims of these men without Perseus keeping them in check. She didn’t understand his motives, but he had stepped in when she had cried for help. Although he was intent on murdering her, he would grant her a swift death, at least. Regardless, it was imperative that she did not stay behind while Perseus was gone.

“No?” he scoffed, “since when are you the one giving orders around here?”

“Since I have a score to settle with the brutes that you fail to control. Leave me here, and I cannot promise you that you have a crew to return to!” she threatened with a trembling voice.

“I think you are forgetting that you are chained and locked behind iron bars. How do you plan to get your clutches on my men?”

He was right, of course. Her threats had lost all credibility when she had begged him to kill her. Moreover, she was blindfolded, shackled, and weak from her injury. Her head began spinning, and she tried to breathe — cold, unforgiving water filled her lungs instead. Medusa had promised herself that she would never be like this again. Weak. Vulnerable. Powerless.

As Perseus started to walk away, she blurted, “If you take me with you, I will tell you about the goddess that transformed me into this monster. I was mortal before I became a gorgon.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I want to strike a deal. Let me accompany you, and I will answer your questions about how I became a monster and why I kill. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Perseus stood silent, as Medusa’s heart pounded. He seemed to ponder her offer, and she instinctively scrambled closer to the bars.

“Not badly enough that I’d risk you fleeing justice. What’s the plan? Will you attempt to run as soon as we step onshore, or will you wreak havoc in the Joppan palace first?”

Medusa’s stomach dropped as he took another step. He was going to leave her. Not that she could blame him for mistrusting her — but still. She had used her only leverage, and it had not been enough to free her from the clutches of his men. She decided then that even begging this man was not beneath her if it meant getting off this wretched ship.

“Please,” she whispered, the word bitter on her tongue. But he kept walking. "Please ... Perseus, isn't it? Please don't leave me with them ... your men ... I don't … just take me with you."

She was shaking, clutching the bars to steady herself. Tears burned in her eyes, the blindfold growing damp, as the darkness of the waves threatened to engulf her again.

“I won’t run! I promise! Just … don’t leave me –”

Her voice broke, dying in her throat.

“Fine,” he snapped. “You will accompany me as my prisoner. I have to go to the market now, but I’ll return before sundown. Then, we leave for the feast … together.”

The world went still as the door shut behind Perseus. She would get off this ship. Medusa sagged back against the prison wall and chuckled as she brushed a tear off her cheek. How pathetic had she become, begging her captor to take her to a party?

…

Medusa had grown restless in her cell. How much time had passed since Perseus had left? The market's clamour had faded, replaced by the quiet hum of the harbour. It must be evening, she decided.

She began fidgeting. Ever since Perseus had left, her mind had been racing. Medusa had tested her shackles and the lock of her prison door. They held firm. She knew both opened with the key Perseus wore on his belt, from the soft jingle of the keys that accompanied his steps whenever he visited her. Medusa had to escape. No matter what she had promised in her desperation. This feast was her only chance. She would not survive a battle against Perseus, especially if he was a demigod, as she suspected. His divine blood would make him her equal even when she was healthy, not to mention his potential to wield lightning. Was that strike on the ship intentional, or had it been an accident, his temper getting the better of him?

Either way, she had to catch him off guard. She had to be smart if she wanted to live.

If only she could get out of these shackles. Perseus had mentioned they were crafted from adamant, a celestial material. Where had Perseus obtained them ?

Perhaps she could use the feast to steal the key and free herself when he was distracted.

But first, he had to return. Had he changed his mind? Lied to her from the start? She still could not quite believe that he had agreed to take her.

The hatch creaked open, and familiar footsteps echoed down the ladder.

Medusa suppressed a relieved sigh. “Took you long enough. Did you go on a little shopping tour through the market?”

Perseus paid her jab no heed and opened the prison door. He placed a bucket of water next to her and tossed some clothes onto her lap.

“You’re filthy. Clean up and make yourself presentable before we enter the court of the king and queen of Joppa.”

Medusa did not need to sniff herself to know he was right. Weeks without a proper bath had left her smelling wretched. Still, she protested, “I’m not playing dress up for you.”

“Either you clean and change, or you stay here. I’m sure my men won’t mind if you filthy.”

Asshole. She had revealed too much, and now he was using this knowledge against her — an invisible leash added to the physical restraints. Medusa grabbed the wet cloth and started furiously scrubbing her arms.

“The rest of your body as well,” Perseus ordered.

She gritted her teeth and lifted her skirt to clean her dirty legs. Being ordered around by this man made her blood boil. But she had to obey to if she wanted to escape.

“Now change.”

She didn’t move. “I can’t with these damn shackles on, and I won’t if you are watching me.”

He knelt before her and gripped her chin with his callused hand. Medusa inhaled sharply at the touch.

“I will open your shackles and let you turn around so you may change, but be warned, my blade will be at the back of your neck the entire time. Attack me — you die. Try to take off that blindfold — you die. One swift movement — you die.”

She would make him pay for this. Maybe she would hunt him and his crew once she had escaped them. Images flashed before Medusa’s eyes of her gutting one man after another while Perseus stood chained to a wall. She would make him watch.

She gritted her teeth. “Understood.”

With that, Perseus opened her chains, and they fell to the floor with a thud. Medusa whirled around, yanking her dress over her head in a fury of frustration. She could feel his stare burning into her back, a sensation made her skin crawl.

As she finished changing, she prepared to confront him, but he pressed the tip of his sword against her throat, halting her movement.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

He neither responded nor did he lower his weapon. Instead, Perseus stepped closer, the cold blade pressing harder into the sensitive skin of her throat.

“Turn around again so I can take off your blindfold.”

“What?” Medusa asked, dumbfounded.

“You'll wear a veil in the palace instead of a blindfold. You'll be able to see, but you won't risk petrifying the entire royal court."

She was speechless. Was he truly this stupid? Letting her walk into a crowded room with nothing but a veil? Would he leave her unchained, too? This would make escaping so much easier.

The blade dug deeper as Perseus pulled her against him, his breath hot on her neck. The hair on her arms rose as he secured the veil on her head.

“You will pretend to be a priestess of Apollo, travelling with us. You will tell anyone who asks that your temple sent you to bless our journey. I don’t want to explain to King Cepheus why I have brought a monster to his banquet.”

With a final tug, Perseus removed her blindfold. Medusa blinked, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. How many days had it been since she had last seen? Now, she stared at the wooden hull of a ship through a semi-transparent veil that made her vision blurry. Would this flimsy fabric truly contain her power? A smirk tugged at her lips as she considered the possibility of Perseus's plan backfiring. She could end him right here, right now. But he held her fast, his body a solid wall against hers, the sword's point drawing a thin line of blood on her neck.

“Don’t get any ideas, Medusa,” Perseus whispered in her ear. “I know that you are fantasising about escaping and getting revenge. You probably wouldn’t care if that means setting the entire palace ablaze, but I won’t let that happen. One wrong move, and I’ll take your head before you can even lift a finger.”

To her own dismay, his threat sent a shiver down her spine. Still, he was wrong about her. She was ruthless with her enemies, not cruel. Medusa had no intention of butchering innocent bystanders for the sake of escaping. At least, not yet. Should they turn out to be just as rotten as other mortals —

“Do you understand?” His voice was a low rumble, a promise and a threat.

“I do,” she forced herself to say. Anything to get out of this wretched cell.

He lowered his blade, releasing her from his grip. Slowly, Medusa turned on her heel to face her enemy up close for the first time. The man that towered over her was not at all how she had imagined her captor. Instead of the cold gaze and cruel sneer, Perseus' hazel eyes sparked with curiosity. He was younger than she had imagined, with only a hint of stubble on his chiselled chin and dark tousled curls framing his slender face. His only imperfection was the slightly crooked nose that looked like it had been broken during a fight. She couldn’t deny that he was … beautiful . But then again, he had been just as beautiful as he was wicked, cruel, and terrifying.

Perseus cocked his head, a lazy grin spreading across his lips as he raised his thick eyebrows. His expression was the epitome of male arrogance.“Like what you see, priestess?”

Medusa glared at him, ignoring the heat creeping into her cheeks. She hated that his gaze made her heart flutter. Even after all these years of hunting men, being so close to one struck a chord of terror in her. Or so she told herself as her palms grew clammy.

“I was just waiting for you to remove shackles on my ankles as well,” she retorted, “or do those belong to the attire of Apollo's priestesses?”