Page 23 of Crown of Serpents

He didn’t insult his friend by denying Medusa’s thirst for blood. Their brief exchange had revealed her lack of remorse. The slow smile that had spread on her lips when she had challenged him to untie her flashed in his mind. Perseus knew Medusa would relish in killing him, tearing him apart limb by limb — given the chance. Kleos was probably right to call her a monster, yet the gorgon was not the mindless beast he had expected to face either. He had seen her fear when she had woken up in the cave with him looming over her. He had heard the pain in her voice when she spoke of the goddess that had cursed her.

“What happened?” Kleos's voice snapped Perseus back to the present. “I was watching you when you came on deck. After speaking to her for what — thirty minutes? — you came back up looking more curious than anything?” Kleos’s eyes bored into Perseus as if trying to read his mind.

Kleos pressed on, desperate to make him see reason, “Do I need to remind you what’s at stake here, Perseus? This is not about satisfying your morbid curiosity or your sense of honour.None of that matters, not if you want to save Danae from—”

“Enough, Kleos,” Perseus cut him off, his temper flaring. He didn’t need Kleos to remind him what was at stake. He was painfully aware of what his damned conscience might cost him. “I have heard enough. I understand your concerns, but I can’t do it.”

He had tried to sound calm, but his voice trembled. Still, he had made up his mind, his decision final.

Kleos did not heed his request. “Why not? The creature is —”

“Stop Kleos! I have made my decision.”

“But that is an idiotic decision!”

Perseus cut off his protest. “First, Iwillget my answers out of her — it. I need to understand the extent of her crimes and why she has been transformed into a gorgon. Once I am satisfied, Iwillkill her, but you and the crew will have to wait until then.”

Kleos stared at him, his mouth agape as if Perseus had just declared he wanted to travel to the edge of the world to take the burden of the sky off Atlas’s shoulders.

Perseus had never used this tone when speaking to his friend, but it was too late to take back his sharp words. At least the stubborn oaf finally seemed to understand that Perseus was serious.

Kleos stood from the chair, shaking his head in disappointment as he marched from the cabin. He pushed past Perseus, his voice low, “Just don’t wait too long with your decision. The crew is restless with thatthingonboard — if they feel like you have abandoned our mission, theywillmutiny.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Medusa stood on the shore, gentle waves licking her feet and a salty breeze tangling her auburn curls. She inhaled the scent of Aegina — the dry, resinous tang of pine trees and the earthy aroma of grazing sheep. Medusa closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face, grateful for to live on land with the mortals rather than in the murky depths of the sea — even if that meant being apart from her family.

A shadow fell on her face, chilling her skin. The stench of seaweed and rusty bronze instantly identified the figure emerging from the surf, his towering form blotting out the sun.Him.

She spun on her heels and ran as fast as she could, her bare feet sinking into the sand and her wet dress dragging behind her. Gasping for breath, she raced toward the stone steps leading up to the temple.

She glanced over her shoulder. He was still standing in the surf, watching her struggle. Medusa could not see his facebecause it lay in the shadow, but she knew his turquoise eyes would sparkle with amusement. The sunlight gleamed on his bronze skin, highlighting the rippling muscles of his arms and torso. He was as magnificent as he was terrifying — an apex predator, a force of nature, the god of the sea.

Medusa stumbled and landed face-first in the sand. Thunder rumbled in the distance. She had to reach the temple before it was too late. She rushed to her feet, ignoring the pain in her ribs.

She reached the bottom of the stone stairs, her dress heavy with sand and seawater. She lifted her sodden skirt and began to climb, the rough stone burning her bare soles.

The sky darkened above her, and the earth trembled beneath her feet. He was coming.

When Medusa took the next step, she flinched as she realised that she had stepped into a puddle of icy water. She almost slipped but managed to steady herself. Her head swam, but she pressed on. The puddles on the steps coalesced into a downward stream, tugging at her gown with increasing force as she neared the temple. Medusa gritted her teeth. The water pierced her skin and froze her veins. It reached her calves now, slowing her down.

Medusa’s heart drummed, each step an agonising struggle. A dark wave crashed over her head, filling her mouth with brine.

Another wave slammed into her, almost knocking her down the stairs. The water rose to her chest now.

Tears filled her eyes as Medusa slipped again. Then, a strong hand caught hold of her ankle, pulling her underwater. Medusa choked on a strangled cry, seawater filling her lungs. She flailed desperately, her limbs growing leaden as the icy current dragged her down. Her vision blurred as her lungs screamed for air. The darkness closed in, a suffocating embrace promising oblivion.

…

Medusa was pinned against the marble floor. Hands twice the size of hers held her wrists as she lay face-down. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the pillars of Athena’s temple. She had made it, but it had not been her salvation.

She twisted under him in a futile attempt to escape his clutches. His low chuckle echoed in the giant hall, the earth rumbling beneath her.

He leaned close and blew hot air into her ear as he whispered, “Did you really think you could escape me, little titan?”

Then he began lifting the hem of her gown, still clinging to Medusa’s body, and panic surged through her. She knocked her head back and slammed it into his chin with all her force. Tears of pain and desperation burned in her eyes. It felt as if she had split her skull, but he didn’t even flinch, nudging her legs apart with his knees.

“Keep fighting me if you want. I like them feisty.”

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