Page 38 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Andromeda sat alone on the straw cot in her cabin. They had docked in a harbour for the first time since leaving Joppa. Perseus and Medusa were on a secret mission, and the remaining crew had ventured into the small town to restock supplies and get drunk in the local taverns. The ship was abandoned save for her and Mikis, who had refused to leave since Perseus had ordered that the ship be guarded at all times.
She had never left Joppa. Even though the town was little more than a village, she itched to see the market, smell the scents of the local herbs and blend in with the crowd. Still, she remained in her cabin, hidden away from prying eyes. She was meant to be dead. She could not risk being seen.
The cabin door creaked open, revealing Kleos, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Hey, Princess. Fancy a stroll?”
?Not particularly,” she lied.
Kleos cocked his head, studying her face. “Are you sure? There is a lovely vendor on the market square selling himations and gowns. You should buy some … unless you want to wear my tunic after all.”
Andromeda glared at him, resisting the urge to wave her hand in the same vulgar gesture she had seen Medusa use on Perseus many times. He was right, of course. She'd been wearing the same tattered dress since their escape from Joppa. Kleos had teased her about it before, offering his own clothes, which she'd stubbornly refused. Now, he dangled a pouch of silver drachmae before her, knowing she had no money of her own.
“And I’m assuming in exchange for buying me new clothes, you expect me to go on a walk with you?”
“Of course not, Princess,” he laughed, throwing her the pouch. “I don’t want to buy your attention.”
Andromeda caught the pouch, unsure how to respond. Her upbringing demanded politeness, but Kleos seemed to bring out a rebellious streak in her.
She hesitated, the coins heavy in her palm. While no one here knew her face, her rich brown skin marked her as an outsider. What if someone asked questions?
As if reading her mind, Kleos handed her a saffron linen shawl. Andromeda accepted it silently, her fingers tracing the delicate purple embroidery.
“I bought this for you at the market,” he stammered, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “I thought ... you know, in case you're worried about being recognised.”
“Thanks,” Andromeda mumbled, averting her gaze when his face lit up at her response.
“Anytime, Princess,” he chuckled, his usual swagger returning.
A newfound excitement bubbled within her as she wrapped the shawl around her shoulders, hiding her face in its shadows. She hadn’t realised how much she longed to explore this foreign town. A nagging voice whispered warnings of the risks, but she pushed it aside. Taking a hesitant step toward the buttery sunlight streaming through the doorway, dancing around Kleos’s broad form. He moved to let her pass, and Andromeda stepped into the warmth. She turned back to find Kleos still lingering .
“C—could I accompany you to the market, though?” he asked, hope shimmering in his eyes, making him seem almost boyish.
Before she could overthink it, she sighed, “Fine, you can come.”
Kleos's grin widened, and he hurried to her side, offering his arm. She accepted it but rolled her eyes for good measure.
When he helped her down the wooden ladder and onto the pier, Andromeda suddenly stopped. “Wait, if you went to the market already to buy the shawl … why didn’t you get a new dress as well?”
He shrugged. “Because I wanted you to see the town. It’s a quaint place.”
She sensed he was not telling the whole truth, but she didn’t protest when Kleos looped his arm through hers, guiding her into the winding streets.
They entered the winding streets, lined with whitewashed houses basking in the sun's embrace. The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air, and Andromeda craned her neck to peek into workshops where blacksmiths hammered and potters sculpted, their creations adorned with the heroes of Greek mythology. A genuine smile bloomed on her lips. This town was beautiful.
…
Andromeda stepped onto the market square in her new dress. It was held at the shoulders with bronze pins and had a simple belt. The Greeks called this type of garment a peplos, the olive-skinned vendor had informed her while making moony eyes at Kleos’s golden hair.
Kleos trailed behind, his arms laden with two more dresses, waving the young man goodbye with a mischievous wink. Apparently, his incessant flirting was not only reserved for her, Andromeda noted with some bitterness.
“Why did you get those?” Andromeda snapped, her tone harsher than intended.
He chuckled, “So, you can wash yours, of course. Plus, you overpaid. That pouch of drachmae could have gotten you five dresses. You have to haggle here, Princess.”
Andromeda’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Instead of teasing her like he usually did, Kleos nudged her gently. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not good with money either — much to my father's dismay.” A shadow flickered across his face, then vanished as quickly as it had come. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
Before Andromeda could protest, he pulled her along, taking her slender fingers in his rough hand. They left the shadowy columns of the agora and walked through winding streets toward the edge of town, a pine forest looming ahead. Turning down a side path, they entered a hidden orchard.
Andromeda gasped, entranced by the fragrant oasis. Sunlight dappled through the leaves of olive and citrus trees, their branches heavy with ripening fruit. The scent of lavender and thyme filled the air, mingling with the sweet perfume of orange blossoms. She reached out, gently touching a plump fig.
Kleos watched her, his usual boisterousness replaced by a quiet attentiveness. “I thought you might like to explore the garden,” he said softly. “Pick some fruit, gather some herbs.”
She returned his gaze, searching for an answer in his friendly eyes. He was so different when it was just the two of them, and there were no drunk soldiers around to brawl and joke with. “How did you know I liked gardening?”
“I may have overheard you and Medusa talk.”
“You’re impossible,” Andromeda rolled her eyes even though she wasn’t annoyed.
Not when a soft breeze made the leaves above her head rustle, spreading the citrus scent through the orchard. She felt the same peace fill her up that she had felt during those stolen mornings at the temple.
“I apologise, Princess,” Kleos responded with a bow at the waist, though the mischief in his eyes told her he was not the least bit sorry.
They strolled through the garden, which was empty save for a young girl helping her grandmother gather figs.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Andromeda gave in to her curiosity as she bent to pick some lavender. “So, how did you know of this place? Do all Greek towns have orchards like this?”
“No,” Kleos answered, a nostalgic look on his face. “I’ve been here once with my father. He is a wealthy merchant and travels a lot.”
It was the second time Kleos had brought up his father.
Andromeda glanced at him. “Have you seen much of the world, then?”
A shadow once again fell over Kleos's face. “No, I mostly stayed on Seriphos with my mother and sisters. My father and I … he … I did not turn out how he wanted me to. He always had high expectations for all his children, but as his eldest son, he expects me — expected me to take over his spice trade one day. Only, I am terrible with numbers, I can’t sit still, and I’m a loudmouth who always says the wrong things at the wrong time. All I’m good for is drinking and fighting. That’s why I wanted to go on this quest with Perseus so badly, so he might see how my humble talents can be useful in some ways at least.”
His shoulders slumped, and he stared at the ground, a vulnerability Andromeda had never seen before. His constant need for approval and praise suddenly made sense.
Hesitantly, she touched his arm. “I’m sure he’s proud of you in his own way. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”
Kleos looked up, emotions swirling in his stormy blue eyes.
A wave of warmth washed over Andromeda as she gave him solace for the pain she couldn’t truly comprehend.
Kleos broke the spell with a boisterous grin. “How sweet of you to say! Careful, one might think you're starting to care for me, Princess.”
Andromeda swatted him playfully with her lavender sprigs. “This is precisely why I don’t talk to you. You’re insufferable.”
“I’m deeply sorry once again, Princess,” he chuckled.
?No, you’re not,” Andromeda chided, a smile tugging at her own lips as they continued their stroll through the fragrant orchard.