Page 36 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Andromeda slipped into the cabin at the usual hour. Medusa’s smile froze as she realised the girl was not carrying supper plates. She had gotten used to them sharing dinner — sometimes with Andromeda explaining the healing properties of various herbs but more often in silence. There weren’t many topics they could speak about. A shadow fell over Andromeda’s face every time she mentioned her kingdom or her family, and Medusa didn’t feel like delving into her past either. Nevertheless, she had found Andromeda’s quiet presence comforting and looked forward to their shared dinners each day.

“I thought we might eat supper on deck today. The sunset is marvellous,” Andromeda chirped, her golden eyes sparkling.

Medusa glared at her. They had had this conversation before. Medusa wasn’t keen on facing the crew again, and she had been avoiding Perseus. He had visited her thrice since sharing that horrific story about his mother, and last night she had finally forgiven him — if only to shut him up. Perseus had told her that they would reach Rhodos Island shortly and asked if she wished to leave there or continue travelling with him further. Medusa knew what lingered in that question. It was a plea for help. He needed her help to rescue his mother from Polydectes’s grasp. She had not given him a response yet, nor had she made up her mind, so she did not want to see him tonight.

Andromeda sat down on the edge of the bed, her voice gentle yet firm. “You need to start moving if you wish to regain your strength. The fresh air will do you good.”

Medusa could see the determination in Andromeda's eyes. The princess wouldn’t back down this time.

“Fine,” Medusa conceded, a hint of defiance in her voice. “Help me up then. But if any of those brutes try anything... I won't hold back.”

Andromeda’s face lit up with excitement as she hurried to help Medusa from the sleeping cot.

“I’m not sure if brawling with the soldiers is wise. You’re still in pretty bad shape,” Andromeda scolded her while tying up Medusa’s curls and helping her into a clean linen chiton. Still, a mischievous grin danced across her face, undermining the authoritative tone she only used when addressing Medusa as her patient.

Medusa could not stop herself from sketching a mocking bow. “If you say so … Your Highness.”

For a second, sorrow flickered across Andromeda’s face before she chuckled and looped her arm around Medusa’s, gently supporting her weight.

The moment they stepped into the sunlight, all eyes turned toward them. Medusa’s body tensed, yet she managed to suppress the urge to snarl at them. None of the men moved, their wary gazes following Medusa as Andromeda guided her across the deck.

Andromeda squeezed her hand in reassurance. “No one is going to hurt you. Perseus was very clear that if any of them so much as touched you, he’d … well … dispose of them himself.”

Still, when she glanced toward the bulwark and spotted Linus’s bulky frame, Medusa’s blood ran cold. Something about his sneer told her that none of Perseus’s threats would deter him. If he had the chance, he would attempt to drown her again — or worse. Only he wouldn’t get the chance. A slow, chilling smile spread across Medusa’s face, baring her elongated canines. Snakes slowly uncoiled from her hair, hissing a deadly promise. Linus flinched, and Medusa turned back toward Andromeda with a satisfied smirk.

Andromeda, unfazed by the venomous serpents mere inches from her, sighed, “Was that really necessary?”

Medusa shrugged, settling onto a rail opposite Linus, her veil fluttering in the evening breeze. An elderly sailor approached with warm brown eyes, carrying two clay bowls of bread and grilled fish. His movements were slow and cautious, and there was a slight limp to his step, but he didn’t cower in fear.

“Dinner, miladies.“

Medusa accepted hers silently, but Andromeda beamed, “It looks delicious, Orestes. Thank you.”

A crooked smile spread over the sailor’s wrinkled face, and he retreated, casting one last curious glance at Medusa.

Under the golden glow of the evening sun, Andromeda became unusually chatty.

She spoke of herbs she’d cultivated in secret at the temple of Astarte and of the elder priestess Seraphine, who had taught her everything she knew. When the princess described how at peace she had felt during those stolen morning hours in the lush temple gardens, Medusa almost told her about her former sanctuary, the temple of Athena on Aegina. Almost . Instead, she listened as Andromeda recounted her daring escapes from the palace guards, the mud under her fingernails, the maid who'd accidentally cursed her. Medusa laughed, a genuine laugh, a sound she hadn't made in years. The warmth of the sun and the soothing cadence of Andromeda's voice had rekindled something within her, a spark she thought long extinguished.

“Good evening, ladies,” a voice boomed behind Medusa.

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Evening.”

Medusa whirled to see Kleos towering over them, a stupid grin on his face.

“Perseus would like to speak to you on the quarter-deck, and I would like to escort you back to your cabin, Princess Andromeda … if you don’t mind,” he blushed slightly when he addressed her.

“Maybe I do mind,” Andromeda folded her arms before her chest.

Medusa glanced between them, puzzled by Andromeda's sudden frostiness. Had he done something to upset her? A surge of protectiveness welled up within Medusa. If Kleos had harmed the princess in any way, she would tear him to shreds.

Utterly unbothered by Andromeda’s hostility, Kleos stepped closer, mirroring the princess’s stance. A hint of amusement danced in his eyes. “Well, that’s too bad because the captain has instructed me to see you to your quarters. A bath and fresh clothes are in order. Your dress is rather ... unsuitable for our esteemed guest.”

Andromeda's cheeks flushed crimson as she glanced down at the tattered gown she had worn since boarding the ship.

Medusa's arm instinctively circled Andromeda's shoulders, her gaze hardening as she faced Kleos. “Is he bothering you? That would be unwise … unless you want me to redecorate your face with my claws again.”

To emphasise her words, Medusa curled her taloned fingers.

Kleos's eyes narrowed. “I would never harm Andromeda. Though I guess the same cannot be said about you when I look at Andromeda’s arm.”

His words hit their mark. Medusa’s stomach plummeted. She glanced at the angry red lines left on Andromeda’s arm from the first night she had treated her wounds. They were fading, but the guilt remained.

Murderous intent simmered in Kleos's eyes, but before the tension could escalate further, Andromeda stepped between them. “Enough … both of you. No one is carving anyone up, not on my behalf.” She turned to Kleos, her voice softening, “Come on. Let's get this over with.”

Kleos beamed when Andromeda accepted his arm.

The princess turned to Medusa one last time, a reassuring smile painted on her lips, “Don’t worry. He’s annoying, but he means well. And don’t fret about my arm, the bruises have already faded. ”

As they walked away, Medusa watched their retreating figures, a strange mix of emotions swirling within her.

…

The moon had risen in the starry sky when Medusa climbed the stairs to the quarter deck. The waves crashed against the hull as the ship approached Rhodos Island. Perseus stood at the stern, staring out at the dark sea, his brow furrowed.

“You wanted to speak to me?” Medusa asked.

When he turned, his expression was serious. “Yes. I wanted to know… have you thought about whether you’ll leave us at Rhodos?”

Medusa had thought of little else. Every waking hour, she had thought about the exiled princess and her son seeking refuge in Seriphos only to be pursued by another tyrant for her beauty. Her usual nightmares were now mixed with an unknown woman with Perseus’s hazel eyes imprisoned in a faraway palace. They paraded her around during the day, and she served the king in his chamber at night.

Medusa's eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Medusa said, averting her gaze from the pain in his hazel eyes. “Even if I wanted to help your mother."

“Give me time,” Perseus pleaded. “I will figure something out … we could figure something out together."

“Your king wants the glory of slaying the monster of Lesbos. I understand you want to save your mother, but do you realise what you are asking from me?”

“I don’t —”

“Her freedom is not worth more than mine. Her life is not worth more than mine — just because you love her!” Medusa’s voice cracked.

A vision of Danae flashed before her eyes. She lay on her back in a luxurious bed, her legs spread, as a man with dark hair and a hairy back grunted while he used her body. When Medusa blinked, the woman was gone, and her own lifeless eyes stared back at her in the moonlit waters below.

Before Medusa could pull away, Perseus reached for her hand. Electricity skidded across her skin at the sensation of his featherlight touch. When she looked at him again, his expression was solemn. “Medusa. I’m not asking you to sacrifice yourself. If you stay with me, I promise no one will harm you. You are free … and no one will take that away from you. But please, help me save my mother. We — I need you.”

A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the wind and the crashing waves. Perseus's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he pleaded, “Please, stay.”

The sound of his breathless voice cracked something inside her chest, the intensity of his hazel gaze making her skin prickle. What was happening?

“Okay,” she sighed, pulling her hand away.

A radiant smile broke across his face. “I might have a plan,” he said, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “On Rhodos, there is a temple of Athena in Kameiros … it’s a two-day trek from where we will land, and as the goddess of wisdom and strategy, she must know another way to satisfy Polydectes. We can seek her guidance together.”

Dread filled Medusa’s stomach. She would rather let Perseus put her head on a spike than ask Athena for counsel.

“What makes you think she would help us? I told you I have some … history with her.”

“Athena guided me in my search to find you when —”

“When you set out to kill me,” Medusa finished for him, her voice laced with bitterness.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

Medusa's mind raced. How could he ask her to visit Athena’s temple? Out of all the Olympians, why did they have to seek her counsel?

“Please. Let’s at least ask for her guidance, and depending on what she says, you can still reconsider whether you want to come to Seriphos or not. I’ll buy you safe passage anywhere, but please, let us try.”

Against her better judgment, Medusa relented, “Fine.”

Perseus looked at her with such intensity that she felt her cheeks warm. Gratitude shone on his face, and he seemed to resist the urge to sweep her into a hug and whirl around him .

“Was that all, godling?” She asked in the mocking tone she reserved for him.

“That would be all, milady.” Perseus bowed, a crooked grin spreading on his lips.

Medusa retreated with swift steps. She couldn’t wait to return to the safety of her chamber — his chamber — and bang her head against the wooden wall for her stupidity. Andromeda’s constant desire to help others must have rubbed off on her. Why else would she agree to return to Athena's temple – even if it was not the one on Aegina? For the second time, she had chosen to help this man over her freedom. Something was definitely wrong with her.

She almost reached the stairs when Perseus added, “It was nice seeing you on deck today … hearing you laugh. It’s the most wonderful sound.”

She didn’t respond, heart thundering in her chest as she descended the steps. Closing the heavy door behind her, she cursed that wretched heart that had stayed mortal even as the rest of her had turned into a monster. She would accompany Perseus to the temple, let him plead to the cruel goddess, and when Athena refused to help — and she surely would — Medusa could still run. Perhaps she would even confront her former mistress and demand answers for her abandonment all those years ago. If she dared to face her.