Page 60 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Andromeda gasped for air, swallowing salt water instead. Her legs kicked uselessly against the churning current as Kleos’s weight pulled her beneath the surface. Yet, she tightened her grip on his thick arms, his charred skin bubbling beneath her palms.
I will always come to save you, Princess. His last words echoed in her head, leaving a hollow feeling in her chest.
Those would not be his last words. She refused to let him go like this.
With renewed vigour, Andromeda looped her arms under Kleos’s armpits and swam, ignoring the strain on her muscles or the pressure building in her skull from the oxygen loss. She kept her gaze raised to the sky, where the moon shone above the water’s surface. It seemed so close, as if she might break through it if only she stretched her arm. But she couldn’t, the cool night air remaining just beyond her reach as Kleos and her were caught amidst the dark water. She just wasn’t strong enough to pull his deadweight above the surface. Her eyes burned in frustration.
Reaching Seriphos’s shore was meant to be the start of their journey, not the end. Thebes, Delphi, Themiscyra — he promised to show her those places. And now —
Suddenly, weathered hands grabbed her while another pair of arms wrapped around Kleos’s thick torso. Andromeda whirled to face a grim-looking Atticus, who pulled her out of Kleos’s embrace. Before she could protest, Aetos and Atticus began hauling him to the surface, swimming in coordinated strokes. She kicked her legs, desperate to stay close, swimming after the experienced sailors as fast as she could.
Andromeda sputtered as she broke the surface, coughing out seawater and sucking in ragged breaths. Her chest burned, each inhale like fire clawing at her lungs. Yet, her eyes stayed fixed on Kleos, his limp form suspended between Atticus and Aetos as they swam with steady determination toward the distant shoreline. Moonlight glistened on the remnants of his singed hair, patches of scalp exposed amidst blackened, charred strands. His skin was a battlefield of blisters and raw, scorched flesh — she almost couldn’t recognise Kleos.
“Andromeda!”Atticus’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and urgent. “Swim!”
She blinked, realising she’d stopped moving. The sea pulled at her legs, eager to drag her back into its depths. She kicked forward with a surge of effort, following them as the shoreline grew closer with every agonising stroke.
Andromeda took a deep breath, forcing her racing mind to stay calm. Seraphine had trained her for moments like this. A panicked healer could save no one.
Finally, her feet hit the cold rocks of Seriphos’s shore as she stumbled onto land. Her legs trembled, threatening to collapse from the weight of exhaustion. Yet, Andromeda walked in determined strides to where Aetos and Atticus lowered Kleos onto the wet sand, his head lolling to one side, chest unmoving.
“Kleos…” Andromeda’s voice cracked. Her soaked gown clung to her, a second skin, but she hardly noticed the chill night breeze. “Move,” she ordered, shoving Atticus's protective arm as ide with precise, controlled strength.
Atticus exchanged a glance with Aetos but relented, stepping back to let her work. Andromeda knelt beside Kleos, her hands trembling as she inspected him. Blisters had risen along his arms and neck, some already weeping clear fluid. His lips were blue, his skin cold, and when she pressed her ear to his chest, she heard nothing.
“Breathe, Kleos,” she whispered, tilting his head back. Her fingers brushed against the strong line of his jaw, now slack and unresponsive. “Elysium can’t have you yet.”
It dawned on her that she had never actually treated severe burn wounds like this. Nor had they saved someone from drowning in Astarte’s temple, towering high above Joppa’s harbour. Andromeda felt her panic surge once more, but then the familiar touch of her goddess settled upon her shoulder, guiding her like the bright glow of the evening star.
She hesitated only a moment before pinching his nose shut and sealing her lips over his. She breathed into him, her breaths shallow and rushed, her heart hammering against her ribs. Then, she pressed her hands to his chest and pushed down in quick, coordinated thrusts. “You will come back to me,” she murmured. “Please.”
The moments stretched into eternity, each one punctuated by the rhythmic pressure of her hands against his chest and the crash of waves behind her. Aetos shifted uneasily nearby, his wrinkled face grim, while Atticus muttered prayers to the Greek god of medicine.
Finally, Kleos’s body jerked, and a wet, rattling cough tore through his throat. Water spilt from his mouth, and Andromeda quickly turned his head to the side, her vision blurring with tears of relief.
His eyelids fluttered, and for a fleeting moment, his dark blue eyes met hers, unfocused and heavy with pain. Her heart leapt, hope surging through her.
“Kleos?” she asked softly, leaning closer.
His lips moved, but no sound came, and then his eyes rolled shut again, his body going limp beneath her touch. Something shattered inside her chest .
“No.”Andromeda placed trembling fingers against his neck, feeling the faint thrum of a pulse beneath her fingertips. He was alive, but barely. How could she ensure that he remained that way? Instinctively, she reached for the medicine pouch at her side, only to find cold sand in its place.
“Andromeda,” Atticus said, placing a hand where Astarte’s touch still lingered. His voice was low and firm. “You’ve done all you can.”
She shook her head, unwilling to move, unwilling to let go. “No. I can do more.”
She needed to do more, needed to clean Kleos’s wounds, to remove the dead tissue —
“And you will,” Aetos said, crouching beside her. “But not here. We need shelter, fire—something to keep him warm. Let’s get him to the city.”
For a long moment, Andromeda stayed frozen, her hands still pressed to Kleos’s chest. Then she nodded, her jaw tight, and stood. Her legs felt weak beneath her, but she turned to Aetos and Atticus, her amber eyes blazing golden. “Help me carry him.”