Page 51 of Crown of Serpents

Perseus nodded, as if to reassure himself, and rose to his feet. He had not expected his friend to solve his dilemma. As he turned to retreat to his straw cot, desperate for some quiet darkness to sort through his racing thoughts, Kleos’s voice stopped him, “Have you considered telling Medusa about your predicament? She stayed for Andromeda, so she might —”

“I couldn’t ask that of her,” Perseus interrupted, his voice firm.

The bargain he had made with Polydectes was his burden to bear, not hers. Could he, in good conscience, ask Medusa, his captive, to sacrifice her freedom for a woman she didn't even know?

…

As dawn crested the horizon, Perseus stood before the closed door of the captain’s cabin, his heart hammering in his chest. He hovered on the doorstep, more nervous now than before the battle with Cetus.

Finally, he knocked and opened the creaking door.

Medusa’s smile vanished when she spotted him in the doorframe. Next to her, Princess Andromeda crouched, inspecting the bandages and gleefully chatting as she worked.

Andromeda lifted her eyes to him. “Oh, Perseus, I just came to change Medusa’s bandages. She’s healing remarkably fast. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Perseus’s brows knit in confusion. Had the princess and the gorgon become friends in the few days of their journey?

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. But I need a word with Medusa.”

The women exchanged glances. Had they discussed his most recent spat with Medusa?

“She’s all yours, Captain,” Andromeda said, gathering her assortment of bandages, ointments, and healing herbs. “Just don’t do anything to compromise her recovery.”

They were alone again. The room chilled instantly as Medusa daggered him with a glare. “I’m not talking to you.”

“I believe you just did,” Perseus retorted, biting his tongueinstantly. Probably not the best way to start this conversation, but he could not help himself.

Medusa averted her gaze, staring at the ceiling as if determined to ignore him entirely. Fair enough.

Perseus tried again, “I understand. But I didn’t come here to interrogate you but to explain myself so you might understand why I behaved like I did.”

“Not interested.”

She really was stubborn.

“Well, you are going to have to listen because —”

Medusa erupted, her ocean-green eyes blazing, “Oh, Ihaveto? Pray to tell, why do I have to listen to the self-righteous nonsense you’re doubtlessly going to spew … No, godling, I don’t have to listen to anything you say because, believe it or not, I am not your property. I’m not a prize for you to parade around to pose as a mighty hero. I am so tired of men like you, so selfish and proud that they don’t care whom they use — as long as it benefits them.”

He knew that what he had done was selfish. He had used her, and that was wrong. That was what he had come to tell her in the first place — if she let him.

“Medusa, I only …”

“What? Are you going to show me more of your gratitude? I don’t care. I don’t want it. If you won’t set me free, then let's just kill each other and be done with it!”

What the Hades? How had they gone from Perseus trying to apologise to Medusa threatening to kill him?

“That’s not why I’m here!”

“No? Maybe I’m tired of waiting. Come on, Perseus, let’s drench your precious room in blood.”

She slowly rose from the sleeping cot. Her shining curls had disappeared, and serpents danced around her head. Their beady eyes fixed on him with predatory hunger.

Perseus raised his hands in a futile attempt to soothe her temper. “Medusa, I’m not here to —”

Snap. One of the snakes lunged, its fangs snapping inches from his neck. Perseus leapt back, instinctively adopting a fighting stance. Was she serious?

A wicked grin curled her lips. “Are you ready to play now, godling?”

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