Page 18 of Crown of Serpents

“Thank you, young hero,” the crone rasped. “I know indeed where the creature you seek dwells in these woods. I heard her ascend the rocky path to the mountain pass three nights ago. There, at the foot of the peak, you’ll find an abandoned cave. If the gorgon still lingers in this forest, you will find her there.”

Perseus furrowed his brows. He hadn’t mentioned to the woman what kind of beast he was searching for. He glanced at Kleos, but he was already by the creaking door, beckoning him to leave.

As Perseus turned to follow, the crone’s voice rasped behind him, “Oh, Perseus, dear, you may take the wooden chest you desire as a token of my gratitude. You’ll need it for what awaits you at the mountain foot.”

Perseus glanced at the wooden box on the top of the shelf again, hesitating. It would have been polite to decline the gift; the jewel was too precious a reward for the little work they had done. Yet, his fingers flexed in anticipation even as he tried to resist the pulsating glow calling to him. Perseus gave in and snatched the wooden chest. Kleos’s stormy blue eyes widened, curiosity etched on his face.

Without another word, Perseus strode past Kleos into the fading daylight. His grip tightened around the box as he directed the king’s guards toward the path indicated by the crone.

Only when they had fallen into a silent trot, the men’s eyes trained on the rocky forest floor so they would not trip, did Perseus lift the box lid. Instead of the dazzling jewel, he found adamantine handcuffs glowing faintly in the evening light.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Andromeda had always known that she would one day give her life for her kingdom. It was her duty as the sole princess of Joppa, a truth her nursemaid had whispered on a sweltering summer night, tugging her into bed. As her mother’s anguished wails echoed from the palace walls, young Andromeda lay awake, envisioning herself as a warrior queen, leading a naval fleet and ushering in an era of prosperity. She had wished upon the starry sky then that she might become Joppa’s first ruling queen, wondering whether Astarte, the great goddess and kingmaker, would hear her plea.

Only when the sun had crested the horizon, and her mother had quieted, Andromeda understood the true meaning of her nursemaid’s words. She had snuck into Cassiopeia’s chamber to catch a glimpse of her baby brother but found the crib empty, the metallic smell of blood clinging to the air. It had been the queen’s third miscarriage.

So, Andromeda had walked to her mother’s bedside, peeringdown at Cassiopeia’s gaunt face and blank stare. It was the last time she had been allowed into her mother’s bed. The princess had curled up next to her, their tears mingling as they wept for the child they would never know. She had held her mother’s cold hand until the sun had risen above the zenith and fallen again. When the sky was set ablaze in the fiery red of the setting sun, Queen Cassiopeia stirred.

Her raspy voice broke the silence. “It falls on you now, my sweet Andromeda. You must secure our future. You will bear Joppa's next king.”

At that moment, the nursemaid's words took on a chilling new meaning. Andromeda's destiny wasn't to rule but to breed. She would give her life, body, and throne to whichever man her parents chose to continue their bloodline. Andromeda would provide Joppa with an heir — even at the cost of her dying breath.

Andromeda reminded herself of this duty as she sat rigidly on her cedar throne at the head of the lavish banquet table, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the fabric of her dress. She hated these events where she was paraded around like a prized mare — her worth measured solely by her fertility. Today, she was adorned in a gown of vibrant purple, the royal colour, a stark contrast against her dark skin. Her copper eyes were rimmed with kohl; her lips were stained a deep burgundy. It made her face look so much older than eighteen.

She suppressed a frown, remembering the ordeal she had gone through to look like this. Andromeda despised the preening and primping required for each suitor's arrival, but she was patient with her dressing maids, who were merely fulfilling their duties. Still, she gritted her teeth as they fussed over her, braiding her curls and scrubbing the temple garden’s soil from beneath her nails. They never commented on it, but she saw the exchanged glances and rolled eyes. Her maids didn’t understand that the little time she spent with the priestesses was the only time she felt free.

Andromeda inhaled deeply, her hands folded on her lap. Across the hall, her parents, King Cepheus, a welcoming smile splitting his full beard, and Queen Cassiopeia, the picture ofregal grace with her ebony skin and high cheekbones, were greeting the visiting dignitaries.

Ever since her first bleeding nine months prior, these lavish events had become a regular occurrence, each one a thinly veiled attempt to secure a suitable match. The criteria were stringent: a man without his own kingdom to inherit, a second or third son, who would stay to rule over the small city-state Joppa together. She could not step into her mother’s footsteps and marry into a foreign land. Yet, he needed to have ample resources and powerful allies to protect her throne from ambitious rivals within Joppa's own nobility.

Today, her mother hosted a Cretan prince named Androgeus and three of Aegyptus’s sons. Normally, Cassiopeia would only entertain one envoy at a time to conceal their desperation, but the Egyptians had arrived early and were too promising of a prospect to make them wait. After all, Aegyptus had fathered over fifty children with multiple women, creating fierce competition for the throne. Cassiopeia had invited the three most handsome sons to Joppa, hoping to entice especially Cleofas, the cunning and ambitious third son.

Andromeda tried to appear poised and charming, but she couldn’t help but fidget in her seat every time Cleofas raked over her with his intense stare. His cold eyes, gleaming with hunger, made her skin crawl. Andromeda averted her eyes, glancing at Androgeus instead, who was swept in conversation with one of his companions. The Cretan prince’s utter disinterest in her was a lot more comfortable to Cleofas’s discernment.

Throughout the entire dinner, her mother's voice echoed through the throne room as she sang Andromeda's praises, highlighting her talents on the lyre, singing, and dancing.

“She is a virtuous and talented princess,” Cassiopeia proclaimed, her dark eyes shining with pride. “Any husband would be lucky to have her as his wife."

Andromeda shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with all the attention. She felt like a performing monkey, something to be trotted out for the entertainment of others. Unfortunately, this was what her family, her kingdom, needed her to be. She forced a shy smile, brushing a braid behind her ear, as she lookedtoward Cleofas again.

Her uncle, Phineas, sitting across from her, cleared his throat and spoke up, “While Andromeda is undoubtedly talented, there are many other princesses whose skills rival or even surpass hers. Surely, men of your stature should explore all options before making such a crucial decision as choosing a bride.”

Andromeda's heart sank at her uncle's words. She knew that Phineas was envious of her position as heir, but she had never thought he would undermine her mother in front of the entire court. The room buzzed with whispers, everyone aware of the potential consequences of Phineas's audacious move. Yet, the king remained silent.

Phineas, ignoring his Queen Cassiopeia’s icy glare, continued, resting his bearded chin, thin lips curling in a mirthless smile, “In fact, Androgeus’s very own sister is said to be the most skilled dancer in all the lands, is that not true?”

Androgeus turned away from his companion, irritated as all attention shifted to him, interrupting their hushed conversation. “Yes, my little sister Ariadne. She is quite skilled.”

Cleofas’s face remained stoic as he sipped his wine, but his two brothers exchanged knowing glances. Phineas winked at them, a smug grin on his hawkish face. Against her better instinct, Andromeda felt a twinge of jealousy as she imagined Ariadne, twirling and weaving through the crimson columns of Knossos’s palace, enthralled in her dance. She did not want to compete with this stranger for the attention of the foreign princes — but still, her kingdom needed an alliance, preferably with Egypt.

Then her mother spoke, and her heart swelled with pride, “But no foreign princess could compare to the beauty of our future queen. She is more radiant than the Nereids themselves – surely, a well-travelled man like you can confirm that too, Prince Androgeus. The man who should win her hand will not only rule Joppa but will also be blessed with exceptionally beautiful heirs.”

A hush fell over the room. Queen Cassiopeia was known for her bluntness, but comparing her daughter’s beauty to that ofgoddesses was a bold move. It was considered hubris to equate oneself with the divine, even if the Nereids were not worshipped in Joppa like on the Greek Isles and Crete. In fact, shrines for the Olympian gods had only recently been added to the antechambers of the temples where Joppans paid tribute to the city’s patron gods — all to honour their new trade partnership with the Cretans.

Now, however, Androgeus stared at Cassiopeia in bewilderment, his mouth agape as he struggled for a proper response to the queen’s blasphemous words.

Finally, Cleofas, who had been observing quietly until now, interrupted the silence. “Indeed, Queen Cassiopeia, your daughter would make a beautiful wife.”

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