Page 40 of Crown of Serpents

She had never explained her past to anyone before. The icy pit in Medusa’s stomach deepened under his discerning glare. She felt herself shrinking beneath his towering figure. She didn’t care if he judged her for the countless men she had murdered. But there was a tiny pathetic flicker of the mortal woman left in her that cringed at the thought of him condemning her for what she had done — or rather, what had been donetoher.

But Perseus did not erupt. He merely cocked his head and asked, “Who was the other god?”

“Poseidon.”

Her mouth turned ashen at his name.

Perseus' face remained unreadable. “Did you love him?”

Medusa nearly scoffed at the insult. Of course, he didn’t understand. Medusa fought against the tears burning her eyes. “No.”

With that, she whirled and strode away, leaving Perseus alone on the dance floor. Bargain be damned. He could rot in Tartarus for all she cared.

…

The evening dragged on, a tedious parade of courtly chatter and empty platitudes. Medusa sat bored at the long table, playing with the fruit on her plate and observing the dance floor. Normally, she would have grown restless and grumpy by now after sitting still for so long, but she reminded herself that the alternative would have been a damp cell.

Additionally, the new metal chains dangling from Perseus’s belt as he whirled another young lady from the Joppan court made this evening a small victory. A few hours of forced civility were a small price to pay for freedom.

At least she did not have to entertain hordes of aristocrats like Perseus. After her little encounter with the captain and the dance with Perseus, no one bothered to interact with her. He, however, had been swarmed by courtiers who insisted he dance with their unmarried daughters. Medusa watched him dutifully lead one partner after another across the floor, their wide eyes fixed on his broad shoulders and tanned skin, each fawning over the foreignhero.

Suddenly, the hulking figure of Perseus’s loyal watchdog — Kleos, if she remembered correctly — slumped into the seat beside her, his gaze following Perseus with a warmth that contrasted sharply with her own disdainful observation.

“It’s not gonna work, you know?” he declared, breaking the silence. “Your little scheme will fail.”

Medusa turned toward him, smirking at the claw marks marring his face. They had not faded yet.

She leaned forward and said sweetly, “And what scheme would that be, pray tell?”

Despite her calm exterior, her heart was hammering in her chest. Had he been watching her when she had swiped the guard’s chains and exchanged them for Perseus’s?

“Don’t play coy with me,” Kleos growled. “Why else have you been clinging to Perseus? Are you trying to seduce him into sparing your life? Or are you simply waiting for the perfect moment to strike?”

Somebody was overly protective of their master.

Medusa sighed in relief. If Kleos believed her goal was to beguile a man to throw herself at his mercy, he was still in the dark about her escape plan. Better to keep it that way.

“And if I were trying to seduce him,” she purred, twirling a strand of emerald hair around her finger, “what makes you think I'd fail?”

Kleos gritted his teeth.“Because Perseus is too smart to fall for that.”

Medusa chuckled, “Is he? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

He bared his teeth, a low growl escaping his throat. Had she still been mortal, Medusa would have been terrified of his deathstare.But Medusa was no mortal woman anymore.

“Careful,” she whispered, “your jealousy is showing. And I don’t think Perseus feels the same way about you as you do about him.”

She nodded toward Perseus, whirling yet another courtier across the marble floor. Her lips curled into a grin. Medusa watched the brute in front of her fumble for words while she sipped from her wine glass.

“Perseus and I … he is not … we’re not … he is like a brother to me.”

Medusa let out a dismissive chuckle, ready to return her attention to Perseus, but Kleos's rough hand gripped her shoulder. “Listen to me. Perseus may treat you with respect, even indulge you with this final night before ending your miserable existence. He's a kind and honourable man. But I ... I don't care about his moral code. Step out of line, threaten him, or even just irritate me, and I'll kill you. With or without his permission.”

The death dancing in his dark blue eyes told Medusa he meant it.

…

Finally, the lyre ceased playing. The courtiers retreated to their rooms, but Perseus lingered, his gaze fixed on King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. A servant approached, inviting him to a private audience.

---