Page 4 of Crown of Serpents

The crew murmured in discomfort, but the man behind her put a calloused hand on Medusa’s shoulder.She flinched ever so slightly. “We spotted her in the water clinging onto the remnants of a shipwreck, so we wanted to do the honourable thing and …”

“Aah! So you saw a pretty little thing and couldn’t help yourself but play the hero? Never mind that we are on a tight schedule or that this strait is rumoured to be plagued by nereids that lure sailors into the deep seas for their monsters to feed on! Have you wondered how this little bitch ended up alone in the water?” He nudged her with his foot.

Of course, the man was right to distrust her. Still, Medusa dug her nails into the wooden floor to resist the urge to pummel him to the ground. The hissing voices of the snakes inside her head beckoned her to spill his blood. Not yet. She had not yet decided how far their crimes reached nor how they should die. Even after all these years of hunting men, she could not stifle the urge to test them. That ember of hope that one of them — just one of them — deserved to live would not be smothered. Although they disappointed her every time.

Medusa stuttered with a trembling lip, “I … I was travelling with my father and my brother to … to Crisa. I was supposed to marry a merchant, and … oh gods … they are gone! And I am all alone …” A false tear rolled down her cheek.

“Your father and brother both drowned?”

There was no hint of compassion in the captain’s voice.

She nodded before letting her head fall to her chest, a soft sob escaping her throat.

A strong hand gripped her chin and lifted her face. She cast her glance to the floor, pretending to be too shy to face the captain even as the hissing of the snakes grew louder.

“We could take you in, you know,” the captain mused, and Medusa could feel his lustful glare roaming over her soft features.

Her transformation had not made her any less beautiful than she had been as a mortal. Only her fiery auburn red hair, which had turned more heads than she wished for, was gone. She didn’t miss it.

“You would?” her voice trembled.

“Of course, dear,” the man crooned, leaning closer to sniff her like a hound, “though we cannot afford to provide our hospitality free of charge, so you would have tocontribute.”

The hair on Medusa’s arms rose in anticipation.“How … how would I do that?”

“My men and I spend many weeks without seeing shore. Only keeping each other company can be pretty dull, so maybe you could entertain us, keep us warm … to soothe the tempers and keep our spirits high.” He grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her against his hard body. One hand squeezed her butt as he pressed his lips against the delicate skin of her neck.

Medusa pretended to struggle and beg, “Please, no! I am engaged to someone! I am to marry once I get to Crisa!”

Instead of listening, he covered her mouth with his hand, keeping her wrists ensnared. Medusa sunk her teeth into his flesh.

He cursed and pushed her so hard that she crashed onto the deck. There was the predator she had sensed the moment he had stepped outside his cabin. Too bad his instincts were not as good as hers — or he might have seen her for what she really was rather than assuming her a lost lamb. Medusa’s crimson lips curled in a secret smile, the hissing a crescendo in her head as the captain inspected his bloody hand.

“Hold that bitch down!”

Within seconds, hands closed around her wrists and feet. They even went as far as to spread her legs a little. These men would die right after she was done with their captain.

When the predator settled over her, closing his hand around her neck, Medusa finally looked up. She reached for the otherworldly power brimming beneath her skin. The captain’sgrin melted away as Medusa transformed, giving into the anger that was boiling her blood. The strands of wet hair began to twist and turn as they came to life. They hissed, and Medusa gritted her teeth at the flash of pain that accompanied every transformation. The first time, she had been blinded with agony, but now, she cherished the sting. When it receded, the captain’s body was entirely petrified — the expression of blank horror forever preserved on his face.

For a moment, there was utter silence on the ship’s deck. The sailors stared down at the creature they had invited into their midst, eyes wide with terror.

Medusa’s face lifted with a smile as she ripped off the captain’s head, the sickening crack of stone piercing the air. Then she gave in to the bloodlust that overcame her whenever she used her power. The hunt began …

She became a storm of flashing teeth and glinting nails, blood spraying in her wake wherever she went. Medusa chuckled at their futile attempts to block her as she tore through them with fluid movements. They scrambled away from her, some jumping overboard, but there was no escaping her. Men — the greediest predators to roam this earth — were no match for her vengeance.

After a few minutes, their cries had receded, and the only sounds were the crashing of waves against the treacherous rocks and dark blood dripping from her hands. Medusa tipped her head back and inhaled the salty air as the sun warmed her face. She hoped that Helios had witnessed her vicious deeds in his fiery chariot. She hoped he would report what she had done today — just like the day before and before. Were the Olympians counting how many lives she had taken to spite them?

CHAPTER FOUR

King Polydectes’s cold eyes followed Perseus as he strode into the megaron, forcing his breath to remain calm. Perseus lifted his chin, meeting the king’s stare with defiance. He took in his opponent’s features: the sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and dark brown eyes that would have been handsome were it not for the arrogant glint in his eyes.

Polydectes lounged on his throne, a goblet of wine in hand, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. Around him sat the usual assortment of advisors, wealthy merchants, and naval commanders who frequented his extravagant feasts. Perseus recognised only one of them: Kleos’ father. He was his son’s spitting image, but where Kleos was all grins, childish jokes, and slaps on the back so hard they might knock you to the ground, his father was a man of icy composure. His face, a mask of indifference, showed no hint of recognition toward Perseus. But then again, why should he? Kleos had always snuck out to see Perseus, defying his father's disdain for commoners.

Perseus scanned the rest of the room, the guards in their gleaming bronze armour lining the towering walls, the heavy wooden doors sealed shut behind him. He felt like a trapped animal.

“Haven't you forgotten something, fisherman?” Polydectes's voice dripped with contempt. “Kneel before your anax!”

Perseus held the king’s exacting gaze, slowly lowering to one knee. He noted the grime staining the extravagant carpet—a testament to countless others who had knelt here before him. “Forgive my rudeness, My King.” The words tasted like acid on his tongue.

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