Page 28 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Perseus extended his hand. Medusa glared at it for a moment but still took it. It was warm and calloused, roughened by sea and sword. He spun her with more grace than she had anticipated from a brute like him, and she stiffened ever so slightly when he delicately placed his other hand on her waist.

Instinctively, Medusa dug the heel of her sandal into his foot. “When will you learn that I don’t need or want to be saved by you?”

He chuckled and closed the distance between them, making her heartbeat stutter. Yet, he adjusted his hand to hold her between her shoulder blades.

As they circled to the melancholic tunes of the lyre, Medusa noted their proximity. Perseus stood close enough for her to see the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, even through the veil. Surely he knew this was inappropriate, a risk to her cover as a devout priestess.

Despite herself, Medusa cared about her cover story. If she were revealed as the monstrous gorgon, she would not escape this palace without a fight. Though she'd relish the demise of Heron and his men, the innocent barmaid's petrified face flashed before her eyes, a chilling reminder of collateral damage. No, she needed another way out, and that required convincing them she was Irene, a devout priestess, not Medusa, the bane of the Aegean Sea. Why was Perseus jeopardising everything by standing so close?

Perseus's whisper cut through her thoughts, “Who said I was saving you ? Perhaps I was saving the esteemed captain of the guard?”

A valid concern, she had to admit. Under normal circumstances, she would have buried her nails into his gut without hesitation. Just like she would have never allowed a man to come as close to her as Perseus. Her snakes hissed as their eyes locked. She inhaled deeply, reminding herself that these men’s transgressions ensured her plan’s success. One final step remained, and she could escape without anyone getting hurt.

A sharp-toothed grin spread across her face as she slid the captain’s metal chains on her captor’s belt.She had snatched them while twisting his wrist, breaking a finger or two for good measure. His cry had covered the soft clang of the metal. It was child's play compared to her earlier stumble, where she'd secretly attached Perseus's adamantine chains to his belt.

She flexed her fingers and grinned.

He would not know what hit him when she tore through the “unbreakable” handcuffs, strong enough to hold an immortal. She only needed the right opportunity once they had left the palace, and Perseus relaxed, believing her to be safely chained below deck. Surely, there would be a moment when he would be distracted, so she might run.

However, a small, reckless part of her did not want him distracted at all. That quiet voice urged her to provoke him instead so she could see the horror on his face as she shattered the metal and attacked him. Her hands flexed as she fantasised about what it might feel like to tackle him to the ground and –

“Speaking of which,” Perseus interrupted her daydream, “you promised me answers in return for the palace visit. Now seems as good a time as any.”

Medusa levelled her icy glare at him, a look that had brought many men to their knees. However, Perseus met her gaze, raising an eyebrow as if daring her to lash out. She dug her nails deeper into his shoulder, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he spun her and delicately placed his hand on her back when she faced him again. Wretched man .

“You said a goddess cursed you into … this form. What were you before?”

“Mortal,” she replied, her voice devoid of emotion. “Though I was not born to mortal parents. It was their greatest shame.”

Perseus studied her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Who are your parents?”

Medusa’s mouth went dry. She'd expected him to demand justification for the atrocities she committed, to judge her. She did not care, for she did not seek any man’s approval. But this ... her history with her parents? Her family? Her sisters? No, she would not share this with her enemy.

“I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me who yours are, godling .”

He winced as if he understood the pain of being the offspring of cruel immortals. She had been right about his lineage then. Not only was he a demigod, but he was not proud of his immortal heritage. It was highly unusual for a man to introduce himself as the son of his mother rather than his father.

The warmth in his hazel eyes dissipated. “I don’t have to bargain for you to respond. You promised me to tell me about your past in return for taking you with me to the palace.”

“My parents are irrelevant to who I am now. They have been irrelevant for a long time and are not the ones who transformed me.”

“Then who did?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Her evasive half-answers were testing his patience. Good.

“Athena.”

The music stopped, and they stared at each other in silence. A storm brewed beneath Perseus's calm exterior as he processed her answer.

“Why?” he breathed out as the music picked up again.

Couples switched partners, but they remained frozen in the centre of the marble floor.

“Because I was her priestess … and when I – when she felt that I had given myself to another god … when he claimed me as his, Athena felt that her property had been defiled as I had been unfaithful to her. That’s why she punished me … for yielding to him.”

She had never explained her past to anyone before. The icy pit in Medusa’s stomach deepened under his discerning glare. She felt herself shrinking beneath his towering figure. She didn’t care if he judged her for the countless men she had murdered. But there was a tiny pathetic flicker of the mortal woman left in her that cringed at the thought of him condemning her for what she had done — or rather, what had been done to her.

But Perseus did not erupt. He merely cocked his head and asked, “Who was the other god?”

“Poseidon.”

Her mouth turned ashen at his name.

Perseus' face remained unreadable. “Did you love him?”

Medusa nearly scoffed at the insult. Of course, he didn’t understand. Medusa fought against the tears burning her eyes. “No.”

With that, she whirled and strode away, leaving Perseus alone on the dance floor. Bargain be damned. He could rot in Tartarus for all she cared.

…

The evening dragged on, a tedious parade of courtly chatter and empty platitudes. Medusa sat bored at the long table, playing with the fruit on her plate and observing the dance floor. Normally, she would have grown restless and grumpy by now after sitting still for so long, but she reminded herself that the alternative would have been a damp cell.

Additionally, the new metal chains dangling from Perseus’s belt as he whirled another young lady from the Joppan court made this evening a small victory. A few hours of forced civility were a small price to pay for freedom .

At least she did not have to entertain hordes of aristocrats like Perseus. After her little encounter with the captain and the dance with Perseus, no one bothered to interact with her. He, however, had been swarmed by courtiers who insisted he dance with their unmarried daughters. Medusa watched him dutifully lead one partner after another across the floor, their wide eyes fixed on his broad shoulders and tanned skin, each fawning over the foreign hero .

Suddenly, the hulking figure of Perseus’s loyal watchdog — Kleos, if she remembered correctly — slumped into the seat beside her, his gaze following Perseus with a warmth that contrasted sharply with her own disdainful observation.

“It’s not gonna work, you know?” he declared, breaking the silence. “Your little scheme will fail.”

Medusa turned toward him, smirking at the claw marks marring his face. They had not faded yet.

She leaned forward and said sweetly, “And what scheme would that be, pray tell?”

Despite her calm exterior, her heart was hammering in her chest. Had he been watching her when she had swiped the guard’s chains and exchanged them for Perseus’s?

“Don’t play coy with me,” Kleos growled. “Why else have you been clinging to Perseus? Are you trying to seduce him into sparing your life? Or are you simply waiting for the perfect moment to strike?”

Somebody was overly protective of their master.

Medusa sighed in relief. If Kleos believed her goal was to beguile a man to throw herself at his mercy, he was still in the dark about her escape plan. Better to keep it that way.

“And if I were trying to seduce him,” she purred, twirling a strand of emerald hair around her finger, “what makes you think I'd fail?”

Kleos gritted his teeth.“Because Perseus is too smart to fall for that.”

Medusa chuckled, “Is he? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

He bared his teeth, a low growl escaping his throat. Had she still been mortal, Medusa would have been terrified of his death stare.But Medusa was no mortal woman anymore.

“Careful,” she whispered, “your jealousy is showing. And I don’t think Perseus feels the same way about you as you do about him.”

She nodded toward Perseus, whirling yet another courtier across the marble floor. Her lips curled into a grin. Medusa watched the brute in front of her fumble for words while she sipped from her wine glass.

“Perseus and I … he is not … we’re not … he is like a brother to me.”

Medusa let out a dismissive chuckle, ready to return her attention to Perseus, but Kleos's rough hand gripped her shoulder. “Listen to me. Perseus may treat you with respect, even indulge you with this final night before ending your miserable existence. He's a kind and honourable man. But I ... I don't care about his moral code. Step out of line, threaten him, or even just irritate me, and I'll kill you. With or without his permission.”

The death dancing in his dark blue eyes told Medusa he meant it.

…

Finally, the lyre ceased playing. The courtiers retreated to their rooms, but Perseus lingered, his gaze fixed on King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. A servant approached, inviting him to a private audience.

Perseus beckoned Kleos to follow, who, in turn, grabbed Medusa’s arm and dragged her along with more force than necessary. Together, they approached the dais and curtsied before the royals.

It was the queen who spoke first, “Have you enjoyed the feast?”

This court was highly unconventional regarding who said what and when. Medusa had never heard of a king and queen ruling in tandem in Greece.

“Very much so, Your Majesty,” Perseus responded on their behalf, “though you are renowned for your hospitality, we did not expect such … extravagance.”

It was true. The feast had been more lavish than expected for foreign dignitaries’ visit. They had been served a variety of meats with rich seasonings, bread, olives, cheeses, dates, and sweet pastries in all shapes, colours, and flavours. Medusa had been full after the first two rounds of delicacies, but the palace staff had continued serving until Kleos was the only person still stuffing his face.

“Anything for the saviour of our beloved kingdom,” Cassiopeia proclaimed.

Perseus and Kleos exchanged raised eyebrows. Seemingly, Medusa wasn’t the only one perplexed by the Joppan royals’ excessive gratitude. Did they want to enlist him after hearing of his triumph over … well, her?

“As usual,” the king’s bariton interrupted the awkward silence, “my wife is a little too forward with her declarations – though we are indeed in need of a hero like you … if you are up to the task.”

Perseus remained silent, his face a mask of stoicism, only the subtle clenching of his jaw betraying his tension. Such detours were clearly not part of his plan.

Cepheus quickly added, “We would compensate you, of course … supply you with a new ship and whatever else you need for your return to Seriphos.”

“What is it you need help with?” Perseus asked in a calm voice. He desperately needed those supplies.

Queen Cassiopeia blurted out, her voice breaking, “A month ago, I enraged Poseidon. You’ve seen our daughter, Princess Andromeda, haven’t you? I — I am so proud of the young woman she … she’s become, and …” She shook her head, sorrow filling her eyes.

Medusa clenched her fist, her nails digging into her flesh.

“Unfortunately,” King Cepheus sighed, “my dear Cassiopeia has boasted that our lovely daughter was more beautiful than the nereids to foreign dignitaries. It was an attempt to secure a suitable alliance through marriage, but Poseidon took offence at such hubris.

The king placed a comforting hand on his queen’s arm .

Medusa's blood ran cold, a burning rage igniting within her. A mother's pride, twisted into an insult against a god's vanity. It was a foolish thing to say, but ... Medusa knew the sea god cared little for the countless nymphs in his realm. They were fleeting amusements, none holding sway over him. None would have demanded retribution for the queen's words. The nereids knew their place, understanding that challenging the god would expose them to the whims of Poseidon’s cronies, who delighted in wicked games, torture, and debauchery.

No, Poseidon had punished these humans to demonstrate his infinite power over the oceans and its creatures. What these humans had done did not matter — except that it allowed him to demonstrate how powerless mortals were compared to his might.

Cepheus continued, his eyes glazed with despair, “First, the water in our rivers turned foul, leaving us with no fresh water. Then, people started disappearing … fishermen and traders. There were sightings of a scaled beast lingering around the shipwrecks, but it always vanished into the mist. We consulted the oracle of Ammon, and she told us ... to appease Poseidon, we must offer a sacrifice.”

“What is the sacrifice?” Perseus asked.

“Our beloved Andromeda.”

Medusa’s snakes hissed in fury. Her head throbbed with pain. She fought to maintain her composure, but the serpents craved blood, demanding to break free to fight the injustice about to befall the innocent princess.

Before Medusa could speak up, Perseus exploded, “There must be another way!”

The queen’s head sagged, small sobs escaping her throat. Cepheus avoided Perseus’ glare.

“The oracle instructed us to tie her to the rocks near the harbour at dawn … for the sea monster to feast upon. If we don't, it will continue to terrorise our coast. We were given three weeks to decide.”

“When is the deadline?” Perseus gritted between his teeth.

“Tomorrow.”

The word echoed through the marble hall .

“So, you’re going to let this creature slaughter your child? Forcing her to pay with her blood for a mistake that … that wasn’t even hers?”

To her surprise, Medusa agreed with him. Moreover, she shared the burning rage that was roiling off Perseus. They should find another way. Beg for mercy, appeal to Poseidon’s vanity by making him their city patron, or even sacrifice the queen who had offended the god in the first place.

“It was not our decision to make.”

“Whose then?”

“As the crown princess of Joppa, it was her decision to forfeit her life for the sake of our people. She … is a brave young woman who loves her kingdom and people. She is willing to die for them,” the king declared with a bobbing throat — yet his chest was swelled with pride.

Medusa blinked in surprise. Her decision . The king and queen had never wanted to sacrifice their daughter. The heartbreak written across their faces told her that they would have rather seen their cities burn than lose their child. But the princess considered the survival of Joppa to be a cause worth dying for.

“So … how does my crew fit into this?” Perseus asked.

“As much as Andromeda loves her kingdom,” the king’s voice cracked, “she is still my daughter, and I cannot allow her to make this sacrifice — not when fate has brought you to our shores in our hour of need … to save her.”

“Save her?” Perseus echoed.

Medusa bit her tongue in disbelief. She knew deep down that it would not be right to perform the sacrifice yet … yet a tiny part of her had marvelled at the princess’s courage. Andromeda’s determination and selflessness would have made her a great ruler – far greater than her loudmouthed mother and her father grovelling at the feet of what he believed to be a great hero. That tiny part of Medusa hoped Andromeda’s decision would be respected — even if that meant she would die to appease him . Her death would be her choice, and that would be a triumph.

“Andromeda will be tied to the rocks come sunrise,” Cepheus continued, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “She would disapprove of this plan. That’s why we had to wait for her to retire to her chambers before having this discussion. We will proceed with the ritual, but I want you and your men waiting ... to slay the beast before it claims her.” King Cepheus fell silent, fighting back the tears.

The queen took over, “We are asking you to save our daughter and take her with you. You may even take her as your wife, if that would persuade you. We will offer a lamb in her place, the innocent blood masking the deceit ... and she cannot return here, we will lose our princess, but she will live."

What?

“Do you really think that this will fool the gods?” Medusa blurted out, unable to hold back. She could not fathom how the king and queen believed that diminishing Andromeda to a prize for some hero’s noble deed would be a better fate than dying as her kingdom’s saviour.

Before Medusa could get a response, Perseus declared, “I’ll do it. I’ll save your daughter.”

Of course, he would.