Page 41 of Crown of Serpents

Perseus beckoned Kleos to follow, who, in turn, grabbed Medusa’s arm and dragged her along with more force than necessary. Together, they approached the dais and curtsied before the royals.

It was the queen who spoke first, “Have you enjoyed the feast?”

This court was highly unconventional regarding who said what and when. Medusa had never heard of a king and queen ruling in tandem in Greece.

“Very much so, Your Majesty,” Perseus responded on their behalf, “though you are renowned for your hospitality, we didnot expect such … extravagance.”

It was true. The feast had been more lavish than expected for foreign dignitaries’ visit. They had been served a variety of meats with rich seasonings, bread, olives, cheeses, dates, and sweet pastries in all shapes, colours, and flavours. Medusa had been full after the first two rounds of delicacies, but the palace staff had continued serving until Kleos was the only person still stuffing his face.

“Anything for the saviour of our beloved kingdom,” Cassiopeia proclaimed.

Perseus and Kleos exchanged raised eyebrows. Seemingly, Medusa wasn’t the only one perplexed by the Joppan royals’ excessive gratitude. Did they want to enlist him after hearing of his triumph over … well, her?

“As usual,” the king’s bariton interrupted the awkward silence, “my wife is a little too forward with her declarations – though we are indeed in need of a hero like you … if you are up to the task.”

Perseus remained silent, his face a mask of stoicism, only the subtle clenching of his jaw betraying his tension. Such detours were clearly not part of his plan.

Cepheus quickly added, “We would compensate you, of course … supply you with a new ship and whatever else you need for your return to Seriphos.”

“What is it you need help with?” Perseus asked in a calm voice. He desperately needed those supplies.

Queen Cassiopeia blurted out, her voice breaking, “A month ago, I enraged Poseidon. You’ve seen our daughter, Princess Andromeda, haven’t you? I — I am so proud of the young woman she … she’s become, and …” She shook her head, sorrow filling her eyes.

Medusa clenched her fist, her nails digging into her flesh.

“Unfortunately,” King Cepheus sighed, “my dear Cassiopeia has boasted that our lovely daughter was more beautiful than the nereids to foreign dignitaries. It was an attempt to secure a suitable alliance through marriage, but Poseidon took offence at such hubris.

The king placed a comforting hand on his queen’s arm.

Medusa's blood ran cold, a burning rage igniting within her. A mother's pride, twisted into an insult against a god's vanity. It was a foolish thing to say, but ... Medusa knew the sea god cared little for the countless nymphs in his realm. They were fleeting amusements, none holding sway over him. None would have demanded retribution for the queen's words. The nereids knew their place, understanding that challenging the god would expose them to the whims of Poseidon’s cronies, who delighted in wicked games, torture, and debauchery.

No, Poseidon had punished these humans to demonstrate his infinite power over the oceans and its creatures. What these humans had done did not matter — except that it allowed him to demonstrate how powerless mortals were compared to his might.

Cepheus continued, his eyes glazed with despair, “First, the water in our rivers turned foul, leaving us with no fresh water. Then, people started disappearing … fishermen and traders. There were sightings of a scaled beast lingering around the shipwrecks, but it always vanished into the mist. We consulted the oracle of Ammon, and she told us ... to appease Poseidon, we must offer a sacrifice.”

“What is the sacrifice?” Perseus asked.

“Our beloved Andromeda.”

Medusa’s snakes hissed in fury. Her head throbbed with pain. She fought to maintain her composure, but the serpents craved blood, demanding to break free to fight the injustice about to befall the innocent princess.

Before Medusa could speak up, Perseus exploded, “There must be another way!”

The queen’s head sagged, small sobs escaping her throat. Cepheus avoided Perseus’ glare.

“The oracle instructed us to tie her to the rocks near the harbour at dawn … for the sea monster to feast upon. If we don't, it will continue to terrorise our coast. We were given three weeks to decide.”

“When is the deadline?” Perseus gritted between his teeth.

“Tomorrow.”

The word echoed through the marble hall.

“So, you’re going to let this creature slaughter your child? Forcing her to pay with her blood for a mistake that … that wasn’t even hers?”

To her surprise, Medusa agreed with him. Moreover, she shared the burning rage that was roiling off Perseus. They should find another way. Beg for mercy, appeal to Poseidon’s vanity by making him their city patron, or even sacrifice the queen who had offended the god in the first place.

“It was not our decision to make.”

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