Page 62 of Crown of Serpents

If only it had been a nightmare and not her worst memory coming to haunt her. The priests and priestesses of Athena had not thrown stones at her, but they had chased her from their temple with spears and torches. They had called her a whore.

Swept away in a wave of grief, a desperate wail tore from her throat. She flung her arms around herself, curling up into a ball, while tears streamed down her face. She hated Poseidon for everything he had done to her. He had not only desecrated her body but also taken away the only friends she had ever known.

The bed beneath Medusa shifted as Perseus sat beside her, stroking her hair. Rather than recoiling from his touch, Medusa huddled closer and took his other hand.

“Do you want me to hold you?”

Medusa nodded, wiping away another tear. Yet, she could not bring herself to open her eyes again. It was a futile attempt to keep the images out of her head: being pressed against the cold marble floor, casting a final glance at the temple while fleeing barefoot through the forest, flashes of shipwrecks, mangled bodies, a barmaid turned to stone in a dark alley.

With a swift movement, Perseus lifted her and cradled her to his chest. She breathed in his scent of thyme and leather. Her breaths gradually steadied as she focused on the rhythmic thump of his heart.

He stroked her hair, whispering, “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Her hands dripping with blood, the bruises on her back, those piercing turquoise eyes.

“You’re safe.”

Somehow, she believed him. She had survived, and she would continue to.

Exhaustion washed over her. She yawned as her body went limp.

Perseus set her down on the bed.

Before he could retreat, Medusa caught his hand. “Stay.”

Perseus lay beside her without a word, wrapping an arm around her as if to ward off the nightmares. She rested her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling her once more.

CHAPTER FORTY

The terrain grew more uneven as Medusa and Perseus climbed over boulders and the cracked red earth towards the temple of Athena.

An uncomfortable silence hung between them since that morning. Medusa had awoken alone, wondering for a moment whether Perseus comforting her had been part of her nightmare. But then he'd returned with a clean chiton and water – a kindness she could barely acknowledge with a mumbled thanks.

She stole a glance at Perseus. The afternoon sun illuminated his profile in golden light. Her breath caught at the sight, and her stomach lurched. He caught her gaze, one eyebrow raised, and she quickly looked away, heat flooding her cheeks.

She nibbled on her fingernails, her thoughts spiralling again. Did Perseus know what nightmare had plagued her last night? Had she spoken in her sleep? Had he heard why she had been chased from the temple?

The nightmare had left her more skittish than ever. She hadspent their trek fantasizing about bolting into the woods rather than facing her former mistress. She had imagined the wind brushing through her hair as her flying steps carried her farther away from Perseus. Medusa would have been free, and his mother … would be damned to a lifetime of serving a cruel king’s every need.

So, she was still limping alongside Perseus as the shadows grew longer. Her new gown was drenched in sweat, and the scar on her thigh throbbed with every step. It took a considerable amount of willpower to stop herself from wincing.

A piercing cry tore through the underbrush, and Medusa nearly jumped. She glanced at Perseus, but he was already charging toward the commotion. With a hiss, she followed.

The shrill voice grew louder, calling a name repeatedly, “Gale! Gale! Gaaaalee!”

A small figure raced across the clearing. A girl, no older than ten, with dishevelled hair and tattered clothes, stumbled over debris, repeating the same word: Gale. What was she doing alone in these woods?

She paid Medusa and Perseus no heed as she frantically searched the underbrush, her voice increasingly desperate. Hesitantly, Medusa approached the girl, moving slowly so as not to startle her.

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” Perseus spoke, his voice gentle.

The girl whirled around, her eyes widening as she took in the two strangers.

Medusa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and attempted a reassuring smile, a foreign expression on her face.

The tiny figure bolted towards them with unnatural speed.“I’ve lost my best friend. Gale is gone. She must have run away … I’m scared something might happen to her.”

Medusa extended her hand toward the girl, unsure how to comfort the child. The girl clung to it immediately, her hand tiny in Medusa’s palm.

---