Page 35 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Perseus stepped onto the moonlit deck, a gnawing unease settling in his gut. For the first time, he had seen an ember of hope in Medusa’s eyes, only for him to crush it. He slumped against the wooden door, groaning. What was he supposed to do?

Kleos materialised beside him, a smirk twisting his lips. “Looks like your conversation went well. She does always get the better of you, doesn’t she?”

Perseus turned, a scowl darkening his features. “I’m not in the mood for you pestering me right now.” He walked toward the ladder that led below deck, but Kleos's words halted him.

“Right, because you need to agonise over what to do with your lovely prisoner.”

Perseus bristled. “Do you have a suggestion, then?”

“I do.”

They had reached the foot of the stairs, and Kleos slid into one of the wooden seats, gesturing Perseus to join him.

“Let’s hear it then — remind me of all the monstrous things she has done, my debt to Polydectes, and why I must go through with murdering her.”

“Actually, I was going to argue the opposite,” Kleos said, his usual mischievous glint replaced by a sombre expression. “After everything she’s done, it would not be right to kill her. Even if you want to save your mother.”

Perseus blinked at his friend, dumbfounded. “I thought you despised her?”

“I do, and one day I’ll repay her for the marks she left on my face … one way or another, but that doesn’t change the fact that she just saved your life.”

“She saved our lives,” Perseus corrected him.

“No,” Kleos countered. “She saved you , and you alone. She wouldn't have cared if we'd died, and who could blame her?”

Perseus wanted to object, but he knew it was true. Of course, Medusa had also stayed behind to ensure Andromeda’s safety, but that somehow felt different. She had not jumped between the princess and Cetus’s sharp-toothed maw, but she had shielded his unconscious body with hers.

Guilt and regret had gnawed at him since leaving the Joppan shore. Medusa was no monster. She was a brave and ruthless woman, powerful, terrifyingly lethal, and with a dark and twisted past — but she was no monster. What did it make him for taking such a wonderful person hostage?

Kleos nudged him. The devious grin had returned. “At least Medusa roaming around will make life on this cramped little ship much more interesting. I, for one, cannot wait to witness her tongue-lash you whenever you piss her off.”

A weak smile spread across Perseus’s lips. He knew that this was his friend’s attempt at cheering him up, and yet —

“And what about my mother?”

That was the one problem he could not solve. He had almost decided he would set Medusa free and even beg for her forgiveness for the suffering he had inflicted. Yet, none of that would help Danae escape the miserable fate that awaited her if he didn’t return to Seriphos with Medusa’s head by the autumn equinox .

“I’ll find another way to rescue Danae.”

Perseus nodded, as if to reassure himself, and rose to his feet. He had not expected his friend to solve his dilemma. As he turned to retreat to his straw cot, desperate for some quiet darkness to sort through his racing thoughts, Kleos’s voice stopped him, “Have you considered telling Medusa about your predicament? She stayed for Andromeda, so she might —”

“I couldn’t ask that of her,” Perseus interrupted, his voice firm.

The bargain he had made with Polydectes was his burden to bear, not hers. Could he, in good conscience, ask Medusa, his captive, to sacrifice her freedom for a woman she didn't even know?

…

As dawn crested the horizon, Perseus stood before the closed door of the captain’s cabin, his heart hammering in his chest. He hovered on the doorstep, more nervous now than before the battle with Cetus.

Finally, he knocked and opened the creaking door.

Medusa’s smile vanished when she spotted him in the doorframe. Next to her, Princess Andromeda crouched, inspecting the bandages and gleefully chatting as she worked.

Andromeda lifted her eyes to him. “Oh, Perseus, I just came to change Medusa’s bandages. She’s healing remarkably fast. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Perseus’s brows knit in confusion. Had the princess and the gorgon become friends in the few days of their journey?

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. But I need a word with Medusa.”

The women exchanged glances. Had they discussed his most recent spat with Medusa?

“She’s all yours, Captain,” Andromeda said, gathering her assortment of bandages, ointments, and healing herbs. “Just don’t do anything to compromise her recovery.”

They were alone again. The room chilled instantly as Medusa daggered him with a glare. “I’m not talking to you.”

“I believe you just did,” Perseus retorted, biting his tongue instantly. Probably not the best way to start this conversation, but he could not help himself.

Medusa averted her gaze, staring at the ceiling as if determined to ignore him entirely. Fair enough.

Perseus tried again, “I understand. But I didn’t come here to interrogate you but to explain myself so you might understand why I behaved like I did.”

“Not interested.”

She really was stubborn.

“Well, you are going to have to listen because —”

Medusa erupted, her ocean-green eyes blazing, “Oh, I have to? Pray to tell, why do I have to listen to the self-righteous nonsense you’re doubtlessly going to spew … No, godling, I don’t have to listen to anything you say because, believe it or not, I am not your property. I’m not a prize for you to parade around to pose as a mighty hero. I am so tired of men like you, so selfish and proud that they don’t care whom they use — as long as it benefits them.”

He knew that what he had done was selfish. He had used her, and that was wrong. That was what he had come to tell her in the first place — if she let him.

“Medusa, I only …”

“What? Are you going to show me more of your gratitude? I don’t care. I don’t want it. If you won’t set me free, then let's just kill each other and be done with it!”

What the Hades? How had they gone from Perseus trying to apologise to Medusa threatening to kill him?

“That’s not why I’m here!”

“No? Maybe I’m tired of waiting. Come on, Perseus, let’s drench your precious room in blood.”

She slowly rose from the sleeping cot. Her shining curls had disappeared, and serpents danced around her head. Their beady eyes fixed on him with predatory hunger.

Perseus raised his hands in a futile attempt to soothe her temper. “Medusa, I’m not here to —”

Snap. One of the snakes lunged, its fangs snapping inches from his neck. Perseus leapt back, instinctively adopting a fighting stance. Was she serious ?

A wicked grin curled her lips. “Are you ready to play now, godling?”

She lunged, swinging for his head. Perseus dodged her first assault and raised his hands to block her second strike. He caught her wrists and almost grinned in triumph when she aimed her knee for his groin. In the last second, he clasped his hands around her incoming knee, but he was not prepared for her near-immortal speed. With her free hand, she struck him square in the face. Perseus stumbled back, blood trickling from his nose. Even Kleos had never hit him with such force.

Medusa was not done.She tackled him shoulder-first, and they crashed onto the floor, sending wood splintering.

“Come on, Perseus! You’re going to have to try harder if you want to kill me!” She taunted, scrambling to her feet. “Where was the man that defeated me in that cave? Or do I need to threaten your precious Kleos before you finally fight back?”

Perseus’s anger flared. “What is wrong with you?! I didn’t come here to fight!”

“Too bad, because if you don’t fight me, you and all your men will die!”

Perseus seethed, knowing that whatever he had come to say would not matter until he subdued her, “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

He wiped the blood off his nose and rose. They circled each other, each looking for a weak point to exploit — just like when they first met. It was more for show than anything. They had spent the past weeks analysing each other, and both already knew where to strike.

Medusa lunged, but he sidestepped, catching her wrist and pulling her off balance. With a swift leg sweep, he sent her tumbling to the floor. He was on her in an instant, pinning her arm behind her back.

She thrashed beneath him. “Get off of me!”

“Not until you listen,” Perseus's voice was a low growl. “No one on this ship dies today. And that includes you.”

Medusa stilled, her eyes wide with surprise.

He finally had her attention. “I am not going to kill you,” he repeated, his grip loosening slightly. “You're not my prisoner anymore. I was wrong to capture you in the first place. That is what I came here to say, and you would have known that sooner if you weren’t so bloodthirsty and stubborn!”

She remained silent though her snakes had stopped snapping at him. Slowly, they calmed until emerald curls spilt from Medusa’s head once more. Perseus released her arm, lifting his weight off her entirely. “Now, can I apologise and explain without you trying to kill me?”

Medusa didn’t respond, but the tension in her body eased. He sat beside her, their shoulders brushing.

“I am sorry for everything I’ve done to you,” he began. “For ambushing you, imprisoning you, for my crew's cruelty. You have my deepest apologies, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Her face remained unreadable as he spoke, but she was listening.

“I’ll beg for your forgiveness if you want me to.”

The slightest hint of a smile bloomed on her face. Perseus struggled to suppress a satisfied grin. He was not done yet.

“And nothing I’m about to tell you is meant to justify what I did. It doesn’t change anything about me being a selfish prick.”

Medusa cocked her head, her eyes questioning.

He told her everything — his exile with his mother, the tournament, Polydectes's lecherous demands, the desperate bargain for Medusa's head.

“I went to plead with King Polydectes to forgive us … but that bastard delighted in seeing me beg. He mocked me and demanded my mother become his mistress as compensation for our debt.”

Perseus broke off, struggling for breath as he tried to suppress the simmering anger that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he spoke of his bargain with Polydectes. To his surprise, Medusa reached for him, her hand smooth and cold as she squeezed his hand. The same wrath was mirrored in her face.

“So, I offered a bargain he could not resist. He had put a price on your head, ten times what I owed him, and I promised to kill you for him so he might claim the glory.” Perseus gripped her hand tighter before he continued.

“I thought you were a mindless beast,” he confessed, “a creature deserving of death. But I was wrong. I know now that you are not a monster at all. You are the farthest thing from it. You’re just trying to survive in this world — just like me. I am so sorry for ever treating you otherwise.”

He gulped as he met Medusa’s beautiful, sad eyes.

When Medusa finally spoke, his heart leapt in his chest, “Your mother must be very beautiful to catch Polydectes’s attention. It’s a pity that beauty often condemns women to the worst fates in this world.”

He nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “She is.”

“She is lucky to have you protecting her.”

Warmth spread in his chest. He would protect Medusa, too, if she would let him.

But her expression hardened, extinguishing the flicker of hope within him. “I understand why you did what you did,” she said, her voice regaining its usual sharpness, “but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. It doesn’t mean I forgive you — at least not yet.”

His heart sank, but he understood. “You don’t have to. I just hope you will someday.”

He stood, preparing to leave.

As he reached the door, Medusa asked, her voice soft, “What will you do now? To save Danae from Polydectes?”

Perseus hesitated, a wave of despair washing over him. “I don’t know.”