Page 67 of Crown of Serpents

Perseus looked at the remaining men, anxiety making his blood sizzle. Then, Orestes stepped forward, his wrinkled face shining with pride as he mimicked Kleos’s gesture. “I have given my life to protecting Seriphos from any threats and shall continue to do so. This includes the threat posed to our people by our ruler.”

“I’m with you too,” Elias stepped forward, his usually sunny face solemn.

He had barely finished when Meliton followed suit, “If Elias fights with you, then so will I. I have fought every battle at his side, and I’ll fight with him until our last!”

Meliton intertwined their fingers, his dark skin a stark contrast against Elias’s freckled hand. The gesture was a silent promise. They would live, fight, and die together — always holding each other.

Silence gripped the ship. Four men had stepped forward, their backs exposed to the crew. None of them moved.

Was that it, then? Had the rest of them chosen loyalty to Polydectes over allegiance to Perseus?

Then Aetos’s gruff voice broke the silence, “I shall sail with you too,Captain.”

The title lingered between them as the old man inclined his silvery head slightly.

Perseus gulped. Then, one by one, the other sailors moved forward, their trust in Perseus visible in their determined expressions.

Finally, even Atticus begrudgingly pledged his loyalty, even though his gaze did not meet Perseus’s eyes but remained trained on Aetos. It was Aetos, whom the first mate would follow, but as long as Aetos was loyal to Perseus, it made little difference.

Perseus beamed at Medusa, who returned a confident grin.

A cold, mocking voice cut through the air, “Well, well, well … what do we have here? A bunch of traitors pledging their loyalty to a fisherman who dreams of stealing the throne. All because he had to stick his little cock where it doesn’t belong and now refuses to repay his debt to our king with the head of that ugly beast.” Linus gestured toward Medusa, and Perseus instinctively stepped in front of her.

Bronze gleamed upon Linus's torso, a polished broadsword held loosely yet menacingly in his grip. His beedy eyes promised violence, as he peered down at them from the top of the gangway.

The three remaining sentinels flanked Linus, each glaring at the crew that had gathered without them. Behind them stood a group of armed thugs, their crude weaponry and coarse attire a stark contrast to the guards’ shining armour.

Erastus sneered, gesturing toward their companions: “As you can see, we made some friends in town. It turns out allies are easily found when there's a hefty bounty on the gorgon's head ... and that was before we even mentioned that the crown princess of Joppa dwells on this ship. How much do you reckon your uncle Phineas will pay for you, Andromeda?”

Erastus’s gaze raked over the young woman’s body.

Perseus’s head whipped toward Kleos and Andromeda. A low, menacing growl rumbled in Kleos’s throat as he positioned his massive frame between the intruders and the princess. Kleos balled his fists before him. They would have to go over his dead body if they wanted to abduct her.

He agreed with his friend. No one would take Medusa from him as long as he was breathing. His hand flew to his belt, seeking the reassuring weight of his adamantine sword. His stomach dropped as he remembered losing the blade while fleeing from the harpies. A swift glance at the others confirmedhis fears — their faces etched with terror, hands devoid of weapons. Only Orestes pulled a small dagger that he had stashed in his boot. Of course, none of his crew had armed themselves tonight, fresh from a night of revelry in the taverns.

Perseus's eyes scanned the opposition, silently tallying the number of “friends” Linus had amassed. Sixteen.

“Looks like you’re badly outnumbered,fish boy,” Linus taunted, his black beard splitting in a self-satisfied grin. Then, his voice rose as he addressed the crew. “Listen well, men. Although you have pledged yourselves to Perseus, you have not committed treason …yet. So, I offer you a chance — a second chance — courtesy of our merciful King Polydectes. We will seize the gorgon and the princess, with or without your interference.” His malicious gaze flickered toward Medusa. Her body was tense, ready to lunge, and she hissed at him in response. “We will spare anyone that surrenders. However, should you try and stop us, you will die. Now, who wants to reconsider their oath?”

Linus’s gaze swept over each man, a silent challenge daring them to abandon their newfound loyalty.

Perseus’ blood pounded in his ears, dreading that they might abandon him. Not that he could not understand should they choose to switch sides. He would not blame them for wanting to live. Yet, none of them moved; even Atticus stayed glued to Aetos’s side. Mikis looked down uncomfortably, lanky arms fidgeting, but his feet remained firmly planted.

“Shame,” Linus clucked his tongue. “Seize them,” he commanded, his voice sharp and cold.

With a battle cry that echoed across the moonlit water, the king's epetae surged onto the deck, a wave of polished bronze and glinting steel. Behind them, the hired thugs brandished their crude weapons. Their faces contorted in savage anticipation.

Perseus took a fighting stance, balling his fists as he braced himself. They were surrounded, outnumbered, and outmatched. The air thrummed with impending violence, the only sound louder than Perseus's racing pulse.

Erastus lunged, his sword whistling through the air, a vicious grin on his lips. Perseus prepared to dodge the attack, but beforehe could move, a blur of darkness slammed into him, sending him sprawling. As he hit the deck, his eyes widened in disbelief at the scene unfolding before him. Where Erastus had stood, now stood a statue frozen in mid-attack, the terror etched on its stone face mirroring the horror Perseus felt moments ago.

Medusa.

She was no longer the woman whose laughter had warmed his chest. The green fire in her eyes blazed with a terrifying intensity, a raging inferno threatening to consume everything in its path. This woman, tearing through the onslaught of men like they were made of straw, was the embodiment of death. There was something wild in Medusa’s eyes as she ripped a man’s heart out of his chest, blood splattering on the deck. The wreath of snakes hissed hungrily, demanding more each time their mistress cut through another opponent. This was the creature whose violent attacks had terrorised the coastline of the Aegean Sea, her name only mentioned in hushed tones. This was the legendary gorgon, unleashed in all her terrible glory.

Perseus bellowed over the noise of dying men, “Look down and get out of her way!”

But even as he shouted, his eyes remained fixed on her, unable to avert his gaze. She was brutal. She was merciless. She was magnificent. Perseus drank in every detail of her, his eyes following her graceful yet lethal movements. Despite the rage fuelling her attack, her strikes remained precise. Medusa was even more beautiful, with serpents writhing on her head and a wicked smile on her face, than when he had first laid eyes on her, sleeping in that cave.

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