Page 39 of Crown of Serpents

The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, “May I have this next dance, Lady Irene?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Perseus extended his hand. Medusa glared at it for a moment but still took it. It was warm and calloused, roughened by sea and sword. He spun her with more grace than she had anticipated from a brute like him, and she stiffened ever so slightly when he delicately placed his other hand on her waist.

Instinctively, Medusa dug the heel of her sandal into his foot. “When will you learn that I don’t need or want to be saved by you?”

He chuckled and closed the distance between them, making her heartbeat stutter. Yet, he adjusted his hand to hold her between her shoulder blades.

As they circled to the melancholic tunes of the lyre, Medusa noted their proximity. Perseus stood close enough for her to see the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, even through the veil. Surely he knew this was inappropriate, a risk to her cover as a devout priestess.

Despite herself, Medusa cared about her cover story. If shewere revealed as the monstrous gorgon, she would not escape this palace without a fight. Though she'd relish the demise of Heron and his men, the innocent barmaid's petrified face flashed before her eyes, a chilling reminder of collateral damage. No, she needed another way out, and that required convincing them she was Irene, a devout priestess, not Medusa, the bane of the Aegean Sea. Why was Perseus jeopardising everything by standing so close?

Perseus's whisper cut through her thoughts, “Who said I was savingyou? Perhaps I was saving the esteemed captain of the guard?”

A valid concern, she had to admit. Under normal circumstances, she would have buried her nails into his gut without hesitation. Just like she would have never allowed a man to come as close to her as Perseus. Her snakes hissed as their eyes locked. She inhaled deeply, reminding herself that these men’s transgressions ensured her plan’s success. One final step remained, and she could escape without anyone getting hurt.

A sharp-toothed grin spread across her face as she slid the captain’s metal chains on her captor’s belt.She had snatched them while twisting his wrist, breaking a finger or two for good measure. His cry had covered the soft clang of the metal. It was child's play compared to her earlier stumble, where she'd secretly attached Perseus's adamantine chains to his belt.

She flexed her fingers and grinned.

He would not know what hit him when she tore through the “unbreakable” handcuffs, strong enough to hold an immortal. She only needed the right opportunity once they had left the palace, and Perseus relaxed, believing her to be safely chained below deck. Surely, there would be a moment when he would be distracted, so she might run.

However, a small, reckless part of her did not want him distracted at all. That quiet voice urged her to provoke him instead so she could see the horror on his face as she shattered the metal and attacked him. Her hands flexed as she fantasised about what it might feel like to tackle him to the ground and –

“Speaking of which,” Perseus interrupted her daydream, “youpromised me answers in return for the palace visit. Now seems as good a time as any.”

Medusa levelled her icy glare at him, a look that had brought many men to their knees. However, Perseus met her gaze, raising an eyebrow as if daring her to lash out. She dug her nails deeper into his shoulder, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he spun her and delicately placed his hand on her back when she faced him again.Wretched man.

“You said a goddess cursed you into …thisform. What were you before?”

“Mortal,” she replied, her voice devoid of emotion. “Though I was not born to mortal parents. It was their greatest shame.”

Perseus studied her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Who are your parents?”

Medusa’s mouth went dry. She'd expected him to demand justification for the atrocities she committed, to judge her. She did not care, for she did not seek any man’s approval. But this ... her history with her parents? Her family? Her sisters? No, she would not share this with her enemy.

“I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me who yours are,godling.”

He winced as if he understood the pain of being the offspring of cruel immortals. She had been right about his lineage then. Not only was he a demigod, but he was not proud of his immortal heritage. It was highly unusual for a man to introduce himself as the son of his mother rather than his father.

The warmth in his hazel eyes dissipated. “I don’t have to bargain for you to respond. You promised me to tell me about your past in return for taking you with me to the palace.”

“My parents are irrelevant to who I am now. They have been irrelevant for a long time and are not the ones who transformed me.”

“Then who did?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Her evasive half-answers were testing his patience. Good.

“Athena.”

The music stopped, and they stared at each other in silence. A storm brewed beneath Perseus's calm exterior as he processed her answer.

“Why?” he breathed out as the music picked up again.

Couples switched partners, but they remained frozen in the centre of the marble floor.

“Because I was her priestess … and when I – when she felt that I had given myself to another god … when he claimed me as his, Athena felt that her property had been defiled as I had been unfaithful to her. That’s why she punished me … for yielding to him.”

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