Page 57 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Perseus wrenched his sword free from a sentinel’s gut, warm blood streaming down his arm. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, but Perseus kept swinging. He had lost all sense of time. How long had passed since the last of his men had fallen? Seconds? Hours? He lunged and hacked at Polydectes’s swarming soldiers.
The soldier that had killed Elias came charging at him with a roar. Perseus spun to block his blade, but exhaustion slowed him. The guard barrelled into Perseus with his shoulder, toppling him over. Perseus collided with the stone floor, the air rushing from his lungs, but he had no time to recover with the man atop him. He brought up his arms to defend himself, clutching the sword aimed for his throat, the blade slicing into the flesh of his hands instead.
Perseus reared back and slammed his head against the guard’s head. Blood gushed from his nose, but Perseus ignored the stinging pain as he pressed his thumbs into the sentinel’s eyes. The sentinel cried out in agony, and Perseus flipped him on his back, seizing his sword. He would make this bastard pay for killing Elias.
“Enough, Perseus,” Polydectes’ voice boomed among the chaos. “Drop your weapon, or your mother will pay the price!”
Perseus froze mid-swing, Dictys’s sword still hovering above his head, as his gaze flickered to Polydectes, who held a gilded dagger against Danae’s throat. Perseus’s stomach plummeted.
“It’s over Perseus. You lost.”
Polydectes’s voice was distant as Perseus stared at Danae. She was shivering in a thin nightgown, bruises covering her arms. Icy wrath swept over Perseus, but he remained frozen in place. A thin trickle of blood ran down his mother’s neck, Polydectes’s blade piercing her olive skin.
Perseus’s throat bobbed. Polydectes was right. He had lost. Danae shook her head, her eyes a silent plea to keep fighting. But how could he?
The sword slipped from his hands, clattering to the ground in defeat. Perseus could hear epetae storming forward behind him. Rough hands gripped his arms, forcing him to kneel before Polydectes — a cold blade pressed against his neck.
“It really is a shame, Perseus, that you used all that magnificent power you were given to commit treason.”
Perseus glanced around the megaron. A third of the epetae lay scattered in a circle around him, yet no guilt stirred within him.
“If only you had used it to slay the gorgon like you promised, you could have been a hero.”
No, he would not have been. Perseus raised his eyes to the dais again, staring at Polydectes with renewed conviction. Hopefully, Kleos and Medusa had made it out at least.
“You could have been my adopted son,” Polydectes continued, “But now, my lovely bride-to-be will have to watch her son’s execution at her wedding ceremony tomorrow.”
Perseus struggled against the iron grip holding him down.
A whimper escaped Danae’s throat. “Please, no!”
Suddenly, a shadow appeared in the open windows behind Polydectes’s throne. Perseus’s heart leapt, and his eyes widened. He struggled against his restraint, twisting and turning in the guard’s grip, drawing attention away from the silent figure.
“I curse you, Polydectes,” he spat. “May you suffer for all eternity in the pits of Tartarus. May —”
Pain erupted across Perseus’s cheek as a guard struck to silence him. Polydectes’s lips parted in a malicious sneer as he tightened his grip on Danae.
He grabbed her waist possessively, bringing his face close to her neck as he inhaled Danae’s scent. “You know what, Perseus? Maybe I will enjoy fucking your mother when your corpse isn’t even cold yet. Perhaps I’ll put your head on a spike just outside our bedroom window so she can see you every morning she wakes.”
One moment, Perseus’s blood roared in his ears as electricity filled his veins. Then, there was a flash of bronze and a gurgling sound. Danae yelped and crashed to the floor as Polydectes released his grip.
Medusa stood at the centre of the dais in front of the throne, a crown of serpents writhing atop her head. In her outstretched hand, Medusa gripped the king of Seriphos’s severed head, its eyes blank and lips frozen in a rictus of horror. Blood dripped from the ragged neck, staining the marble floor red. Epetae recoiled, their screams turning to stone-cold silence as the gorgon's gaze met theirs.
Perseus scrambled to Danae’s side, covering her body with his. “Whatever happens, don’t look up.”
Medusa’s voice was lethally quiet as she spoke, her face full of disgust as she regarded the head in her hand. “Maybe I will put your head on a spike as a warning to anyone who dares to threaten Perseus again.“
An icy chill went down Perseus’s spine as he rose, stepping next to the woman who had come to save him. He interlaced his blood-stained fingers with her free hand as they stared down the remaining men in the megaron. Among the petrified statues, a few cowered, having averted their gaze. Kleos's father, Adamantios, was among them, pale and terrified.
A sliver of satisfaction coursed through Perseus at the sight. He squeezed Medusa’s hand as a silent thank you, but she was not done yet. She jumped off the dais, striding toward the men that had held Perseus. Two were already turned to stone, but one still lived. He held his weapon outstretched, though the blade was trembling.
Medusa whispered, “Now, who of you would like to follow their king into his death? Who of you hurt Perseus?”
Medusa stepped close, her long nails caressing the guard’s cheek. “What about you? Is that Perseus’s blood on your blade?”
He let out a whimper, his lip trembling, as she circled him. A wet stain spread across his crotch.
“Do you plan to avenge your king’s wretched existence still? Or … will you beg Perseus for his forgiveness and pledge your loyalty to the man who freed Seriphos from Polydectes’s tyrannical rule?”
The guard fell to his knees instantly, as did several of the noblemen. They all cowered on the ground, gazes lowered, begging for mercy at Medusa’s feet. She was magnificent, her snakes wild, and her face splattered with blood that was not hers. Perseus had to resist the urge to kneel before her himself.
Instead, he stood firm. This was not right. He had meant that he wanted to free his home from tyranny. He did not intend to rule Seriphos. He would not start this new era by making these men beg for their lives at anyone’s feet — even at Medusa’s. “That’s enough. You may rise again.”
Medusa’s gaze snapped to his, confusion filling her eyes. Perseus shook his head, and her shoulders slackened. He was not a conqueror. He did not want to have that kind of power. He did not want to be feared like his father.
Perseus continued, his voice steadier now, “Polydectes’s rule has ended! There will be no more violence today. Leave this palace so we may all mourn our dead. Leave and be grateful that the mighty Medusa has spared you!”
Slowly, the remaining nobles rose to their feet, backing away toward the door. Perseus watched as they lifted the giant beam together, careful to keep their eyes lowered to the ground. Only when the last figure vanished did Perseus move. He lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Medusa, burying his face in her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of poppies and sea salt.
They did it. They had triumphed against all odds. She had come back for him, and she had saved them all. Perseus whirled Medusa through the air as the realization sunk in.
When he finally let go, his mother rushed for him, flinging her arms around him. The tears had already dried from her hazel eyes, which were now shining with pride.
The words were soft on her lips when Danae breathed, “Perseus … you’re home —”
He wrapped her petite figure in his arms. She was alive. She was safe.
Blind with happiness and relief, he was oblivious to the noises of gurgling water behind him, of flesh knitting itself back together.
Perseus turned to Medusa, ready to finally confess his feelings to her, but when he looked into her ocean-green eyes, the triumphant smile instantly vanished from his face. They did not shine with relief and happiness but were filled with sorrow and grief.
She opened and closed her mouth as if struggling for words but could not find the right ones.
“What happened?”
Medusa’s lip quivered slightly, and her complexion turned a sickly green as if she had smelled something foul.
Indeed, a breeze carried the scent of the sea through the open window behind them. The room suddenly smelled like seaweed and … and something else.
Perseus put a comforting hand on her arm. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
She opened her mouth again, but before she could explain, water exploded all around them. A giant wave rushed inside the room, throwing Perseus to the ground.
He coughed, spitting out the salt water. What in Hades?
When Perseus lifted his gaze, Medusa’s eyes were wide in terror as she looked behind Perseus. A wall of water blocked the exit to the megaron. With trembling knees, Perseus turned to face the figure that had emerged at his back.