Page 27 of Crown of Serpents

He stepped closer.

Did he really mean to treat her wounds? Fear quickened her pulse as her breathing grew laboured.

“Lift your skirt so I can inspect your wound,” her captor ordered.

Instinctively, Medusa scrambled away from him. He crouched and grabbed her ankle.

“Get away from me!” Medusa kicked him in the groin.

He groaned, and she threw herself against him with all the force she had left. They both crashed to the wooden floor, and Medusa scrambled on top of him. Her head spun, but she pinned his wrists with her sharp nails. This man would not touch her without permission. The snakes hissed in excitement at the scent of spilt blood.

Medusa brought her lips to his ear and promised, “I may be wounded, but I am not weak. And when you finally dare to battle me, I’ll rip out your heart. I will take my time shredding you to pieces, bit by bit, with my bare hands. It will be mydelight to feed your still-hot blood to my serpents as I watch you slowly bleed out at my feet.”

Moments later, she crashed onto her back with a bone-rattling thud. The air whooshed from her lungs in a single, painful gasp. He had hooked his leg behind hers, sending her sprawling. His knees drove into her thighs like iron spikes, pinning her down with merciless pressure. Medusa writhed and thrashed, but she was ensnared beneath him, trapped and helpless. Waves of panic surged within her, as her captor's grip remained unyielding as she struggled for breath. It felt as though icy water flooded her lungs, each gasp a desperate plea for air. Her nails clawed at his hands, frantic to escape. The dark current of terror pulled her under, his weight a suffocating force threatening to drown her in a watery grave.

Medusa was powerless once more. She couldn’t move, couldn’t see, she was trapped and utterly helpless.

“It was wrong of me to treat you like a human. You are nothing but a beast that should be culled from the earth. I will enjoy taking your head, whether you are injured or not.”

Then, miraculously, the crushing weight lifted off her. Medusa shuddered as air flooded back into her lungs. Somewhere, a door slammed, and footsteps receded into the distance. A small sob escaped her as she surfaced from the endless depths of her watery nightmare.

When she was certain her captor had left, and she was finally alone, Medusa rolled over and vomited on the prison floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Zeus strike me down!” Perseus grumbled as he stepped back on deck. It was a fine day, a warm breeze carrying them swiftly through the water, but the weather didn’t brighten his mood.

His groin still ached from his most recent encounter with Medusa. Even blindfolded, shackled, and severely injured, she had gotten the better of him. He had known that once he set foot inside her cell, she would try something. He had been ready for it, or at least so he had thought. The gorgon had tackled him with the strength of a man twice the size of Kleos.

Perseus shook his head. That woman would be the death of him — or at least of his sanity. His thoughts had not stopped racing since he had brought her on board. Whenever he thought he had uncovered the monster hiding beneath her beautiful skin, she did something so utterly mortal and made him question everything.

Hades, she promised to shred him to bloody ribbons and feast on his blood. However, moments later, when he trapped herbeneath him, she seemed so … desperate, writhing to escape his grasp. She had not seemed monstrous then but rather like a frightened girl trying to flee her captor.

A pit grew in Perseus’s stomach. What ifhewas the monster and not her?

Medusa's words echoed in his mind:I can assure you that I have never murdered an innocent man.

Could this be true? The gorgon had slain countless men. Perseus had seen the statues in Cisthene with his own eyes. Yet, they had chased after her to hunt her down — just like Perseus and his crew had done.

Perseus sighed, burying his face in his palm. What was he supposed to do?

A sudden gust of wind blew across his darkened face as if to pull him from his spiralling thoughts. He glanced up, scanning the horizon. Clear skies, sails billowing in the wind propelling them forward, men sprawled across the deck, laughing and drinking instead of manning the oars. It was a surprisingly peaceful sight. Perhaps Kleos had been exaggerating about the threat of mutiny. They all seemed content enough. They had, after all, captured one of the most feared beings known to man and god. There was definitely cause for celebration. Of course, Kleos led this merry band of day drinkers.

Perseus approached the sailors at the galley’s bow. A grin spread across his lips as he heard Kleos’s bellowing laughter.

“What’s going on here?” Perseus asked Mikis.

The young sailor snapped to attention, his pale eyes widening. “N-nothing, Sir, we were just — uhm — we’ll get right back to work.”

Before Mikis could flee, a handsome man with warm eyes and a freckled nose clasped him on the shoulder. “Relax, Mikis! I don’t think that’s what Perseus meant.”

Perseus smiled. “I was just curious what idiotic bet Kleos made to initiate all this —” He gestured at the sailors lounging in the sun, guzzling the barrels of cheap wine they had loaded in Cisthene. Some were singing, others deep in conversation, but most were gathered around Kleos and a dark-skinned man, currently engaged in an arm-wrestling match.

“Oh, that? Kleos wagered that he could cut the stem off an apple with his broadsword”, the friendly sailor explained. With his freckled golden skin and soft smile, he was just Kleos’s type, Perseus noted. Yet, the man’s eyes were fixated on Kleos’s broad-shouldered opponent with the broody eyes —nothis friend.

“And?”

“He completely obliterated the apple, which led to him drinking as punishment, and then he roped everyone else in.”

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