Page 22 of Crown of Serpents

Medusa licked her lips at that. “Why don’t you take off these shackles and find out just how monstrous I can be?”

“Another time,” he said.

“Please don’t tell me you intend to visit me again.”

“It’s a long way to Seriphos. I have until then to decide what I will do with you.”

Medusa heard some shuffling, footsteps, and the squeaking of the cell door. She listened intently as he shut the door and strode down the hallway. How long would it be until he returned? Would she be sitting alone in the dark until then?

Before Medusa could stop herself, she bellowed after her captor, “Before you go, here is some advice for the next time you want to interrogate a prisoner … consider bringing a whip if they don’t feel like responding to your inquiries!”

The footsteps stopped, which meant he froze. Medusa chuckled with satisfaction. It would pain her captor much more than her if he had to resort to torturing her for answers. He was the type of man who saw himself as a noble hero fighting for justice. She could picture his face flinching with guilt and self-hatred as blood gushed from under his whip.

Still, she usually preferred a different type of revenge for her enemies. Medusa imagined him being tied to the mast of his ship, blindfolded, screaming in anguish as she deliberately sliced him into ribbons with her nails. She rested her head against the hull and smiled.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Perseus ascended onto the deck, the sun reflecting off the waves of the Aegean Sea blinding him. The endless expanse of water did nothing to brighten his mood, nor did the soft breeze ruffling his ebony curls.

He snarled to no one in particular, though a group of sailors had gathered to eavesdrop, “No one goes to the brig. No one talks to her. No one opens or enters her cage, is that understood?”

The men scattered, but Perseus could hear their whispers, “Why didn’t he just kill the monster when we had the drop on her? I heard that he had the gorgon defeated, unconscious at his feet. All Perseus had to do was swing his sword.”

“Keeping her alive is putting all our lives at risk; she will take her revenge on us if she manages to break out.”

Perseus felt their gazes burning into his back as he strode across the deck. What little trust he had built with the crew during their journey had been shattered.

He shook his head. He did not fully understand himself why he had been unable to kill the gorgon. Perseus had hoped that interrogating Medusa would help him make a decision. He had hoped she would either prove to be the cruel beast from the tales or give him a reason to spare her — something to make this crew understand. Yet, the beast had taunted, teased, and challenged him but refused to answer his questions — even at the cost of her head. And what shedidtell him made no sense. The few words she had spoken lingered in his mind.I can assure you that I have never murdered an innocent man.

He considered retreating below deck once more, craving the quiet of his cabin to sort his racing thoughts. Ever since he had left that cave, he suffered from a pounding migraine.

Before he could reach the ladder, promising soothing darkness of the ship’s hull void from judging eyes, Kleos intercepted him. He stepped out of the shadows of the mast, a worried expression on his face.

“You know Kleos, for such a massive man, you sure have an uncanny ability to sneak up on people,” Perseus huffed. He was not in the mood for company.

“What can I say? The gods have blessed me with the stature of a titan and the grace of an antelope,” Kleos shrugged, an amused twinkle in his dark-blue eyes.

Even after being injured by Medusa, Kleos was still as loud and carefree as ever. The gorgon’s talons had left angry marks on his face, but that did not keep him from smiling broadly or drinking excessively and sparring with the other men. Often, the sailors would take bets on who would win. Sometimes, they wagered extra rations and even drachmae — not that Kleos needed more money than he already had. He purely fought for the thrill of winning.

Kleos’s laughter ceased, his expression suddenly serious. Perseus already dreaded the conversation they were about to have.

“Can we talk… in private?” his friend asked.

Perseus nodded reluctantly, descending the steps and pushing open the creaking door to his dim cabin. He filled two chipped wooden cups with watered-down wine, the liquid sloshing overthe edges, and motioned for Kleos to sit by the table.

Kleos did not speak immediately, savouring the contents of his cup first. Perseus’s thoughts drifted toward Medusa. Despite the terror Medusa had inflicted on his crew — and countless others — Perseus was consumed by curiosity. He could still see the anguish contorting her monstrous face when he questioned her about the curse.

Kleos returned him to reality, “We need to kill it.”

“What?!”

“We need to kill it.”

“No — I can’t do that. She’s wounded — and it wouldn’t be right … I — You know I have never killed before. I can’t do it — not before I am certain she deserves her fate.”

Perseus broke off. Of course, he should have considered thisbeforeoffering Polydectes the gorgon’s head. Yet, he had not stopped to question whether he would be capable of taking another’s life to save his mother’s.

“She? You talk as if thatthingisn’t just a bloodthirsty monster,” Kleos countered, his voice laced with anger.

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