Page 29 of Crown of Serpents

A wave of confused murmurs rippled through the sailors, but Elias's face twisted with disgust.

Linus sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Maybe you should have worked harder if you didn’t want your mommy to become our king’s whore. It’s Polydectes’s right to demand compensation for your failure to pay the tithe.”

Perseus balled his fists, suppressing the surge of power within him. Linus was not worth his time.

Orestes seemed to agree as he ignored the epetae’s jab and leaned forward, his rich brown eyes shining with compassion. “You and I are the same then, Perseus. I, too, am indebted to Polydectes. I served this kingdom my entire life as a soldier and became a farmer only after my body was battered from decades of fighting under his banner. Still, he demands the sixty drachmae every year — even though I have no family, no sons,to help me tend to my farmland. With the crops I manage to grow each year, I am hardly able to feed myself.”

A silent understanding passed between Perseus and the veteran, like an invisible thread weaving them together. He smiled at the old man, a shared burden easing the weight on his shoulders. Perseus was not the only one forced on this journey by Polydectes’s greed. The realisation brought a bittersweet mix of relief and dread. Relief, because he wasn't solely responsible for the lives of his crew. Dread, because their livelihoods now hinged on his success in slaying the gorgon locked away in the brig.

Atticus cleared his throat, “If I may be so bold to ask you, boy, why haven’t you killed Medusa then? If you went on this journey to save your mother, why don’t you end the creature’s miserable life and fulfil your end of the bargain?”

A tight knot twisted in Perseus’s stomach as he met Atticus’s probing gaze. The hair on his neck prickled as he felt the other men's stares burning into him. The first mate's question had seemingly jolted them to sobriety, their collective breath held in anticipation of his answer. It was clear that no one understood why he had spared the legendary monster they had captured. Kleos's knowing look spoke volumes:I told you so.

Perseus opened his mouth, struggling for words. How could he voice his reservations about killing her when he didn’t understand them himself?

Get away from me. Her shrill voice echoed in his head. She had been so afraid when he had pinned Medusa down to stop her attack. Had she truly only killed in self-defence?

Without another word, Perseus surged to his feet and strode toward the sanctuary of his cabin, leaving the bewildered whispers of his crew echoing in his wake.

He needed to figure out what to do with his prisoner. The crew would not wait for his answer forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Andromeda sat on her ornate throne, hands patiently in her lap. Beside her, King Cepheus’s expression was stoic as they waited for the envoy to return from Ammon. But Andromeda saw through his facade of calm composure. She had overheard her parents’ frustrated arguments at night and witnessed the fear in his eyes when the first reports had arrived.

It had been three weeks since she had visited the temple. Since then, the kingdom had entered a state of emergency. In fear of a plague, King Cepheus had barricaded the palace gates and sent out the city watch to close off the harbour and evacuate the streets bordering the river.

That night, pyres had blazed beyond Joppa’s walls, darkening the evening sky with pillars of smoke. It was against Joppa’s custom to bury the dead before a week of mourning had passed. Yet, King Cepheus had ordered the immediate cremation of the corpses to prevent the illness from spreading.

However, when no more casualties occurred after the riverhad been evacuated, it became evident that Joppa was not afflicted by the plague. Instead, it seemed the river, supplying Joppa and the hinterlands with freshwater, had turned poisonous. Farmers were forced to burn their contaminated crops, and the kingdom had begun rationing wine, as not even the rainwater was safe to drink. King Cepheus’s advisors had estimated that their rations would last them two months before famine would strike.

The king had sent out his entire merchant fleet to their allies in Egypt and the numerous Greek islands, seeking food supplies and drinking water. None had returned. A monstrous sea serpent now terrorised Joppa’s shore, tearing through the wooden hulls of ships and devouring sailors alive. The wreckage had washed up on the beach only days after the ships had left the harbour.

Now, courtiers, advisors, and nobles filled the throne room, their whispers mixing with the rustling of delicate garments. Every Joppan of rank was present, anxiously awaiting the return of the envoy whom King Cepheus had sent to the Oracle of Ammon to seek guidance from the gods. Andromeda’s heart thundered in her chest as she fought the urge to fidget in her seat.

The doors swung open, and a weathered man with salt-and-pepper hair strode in. The hushed conversations ceased as all eyes turned toward the envoy.

He bowed deeply before the king and queen, his expression grave. “Your Majesties, Your Highness, I have returned with the words of the oracle.”

King Cepheus nodded solemnly. “Speak, good envoy. We are eager to hear what the gods have decreed.”

The envoy cleared his throat, his voice echoing through the chamber, “Poseidon's wrath has taken hold of the realm. The river flows with poison, and monstrous terrors emerge from the depths to plague our shores. The Oracle of Ammon foretells one path to redemption: the sacrifice of royal blood to Poseidon's creature. Within three days, she, whom they named more splendid than the nereids, must be bound to the rocks beyond our harbour, or Joppa shall never know peace. Such is the pricefor mortal hubris.”

A heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the crackling of the torches. Andromeda’s blood roared in her ears, and her father’s face paled as the weight of the prophecy sank in.Her life to save the kingdom.

“No!” Cassiopeia cried out, her voice filled with anguish. “There must be another way, another solution.”

Andromeda swallowed hard as she glanced at her mother, the queen’s eyes brimming with tears. She resisted the urge to hurry to her side and comfort her, digging her nails into her palms.

“Good envoy, you must tell us!” King Cepheus inquired, fire burning in his eyes. “Is this the only path forward that the Oracle of Ammon has presented us?”

The envoy’s lips spread in a pitiful smile. “I’m afraid so. The oracle has been adamant that sacrificing the princess is the only way to appease Poseidon’s wrath.”

Andromeda could sense the courtiers’ eyes burning into her skin. She focused on the crescent-shaped marks her nails had left on her palms. She had always known that she would one day give her life for her kingdom.

Chaos erupted in the throne room as the courtiers began clamouring. Some demanded that the oracle must have been mistaken, while others urged the king to heed the gods' warning.

“My King!” Cassiopeia begged, tears streaming down her face. “You cannot consider this sacrifice in earnest. Andromeda is the crown princess. She will birth the next great king of Joppa … you cannot sacrifice the future of our kingdom.”