Page 68 of Crown of Serpents

Medusa drove the assailants back, away from the unarmed group and toward the helm. Some thugs had given up on the offensive, scrambling away from her in a panic. They ran for the gangway, but the gorgon was faster, slitting their throats before they could reach solid land. Others jumped over the railing and into the icy waves. Two of them made it out alive. Medusa cut through the rest, felling man after man, avoiding the panicked swings of their hatchets and swords with ease.

All the while, her eyes remained fixed upon Linus, who cowered at the ship’s helm, barricaded behind the last twosentinels. The triumphant smile had been wiped off his face, his complexion suddenly pallid, as he watched Medusa work her way toward him. Her path was paved in crimson, and the vicious smile on the gorgon’s face promised a slow, agonising demise. The final hired thug crumpled to the deck; his life extinguished in a single, sickening thud.

She paused for only a moment, the fury still burning hot in her eyes. “I have waited a long time for this, Linus.”

Linus’s eyes were wide with fear as he pushed his men toward Medusa. “Get her.”

The two epetae approached hesitantly, swords before them and gaze averted. They knew their captain had just ordered them to die.

“Coward,” Medusa hissed as she lunged, ducking beneath the blade of the first sentinel and disarming him with a swift movement.

He made the mistake of looking at her, petrified in a heartbeat. The second man stumbled backwards, but Medusa caught him. She slit his throat with the first guard’s weapon, granting him the mercy of a swift death.

Slowly, Medusa turned her fury on Linus, the man who had dared to throw her into the raging sea. He did not seem so brave now. Perseus held his breath as she stalked toward the cowering man. Then, in a flash of desperation, Linus made his move. Instead of racing for Medusa, he flung himself over the railing. Medusa let out a frustrated snarl, flinging her weapon after him. She hit her mark, the blade burying itself in Linus’s side as he tumbled over the edge. A splash echoed through the sudden silence, the dark water swallowing him whole.

For a moment, Medusa hesitated, her eyes frantically searching the dark surface. Her anger melted into frustration and bitterness as she hesitated to jump into the icy waters. The water was relatively shallow, but still, she recoiled from the open sea.

A gut-wrenching wail escaped her throat. Perseus surged toward her, sharing her disappointment. Should he dive in after Linus and finish what Medusa had started?

Medusa looked behind her, her eyes widening in horror asshe took in the bodies scattered on deck. Her knees began to wobble as she glanced down at herself, her hands covered in blood that was not her own. Medusa sank to her knees, her shoulders slumping. In the distance, Perseus could see Linus swimming away from them, his long strokes cutting through the water. He glanced at Medusa, her emerald hair sticky with blood, arms wrapped around herself. A sob tore from her throat, a sound so raw and broken that it shattered Perseus's heart. He sank to his knees beside her, a crimson puddle of blood slowly approaching them.

He reached out, a tentative touch meant to offer solace. But she recoiled as if burned, scrambling to her feet. Tears streamed down her face, washing clean streaks on her blood-splattered skin. “Stay away from me!” she choked out, her voice thick with anguish.

Then, Medusa ran, her gaze lowered and her hair flying behind her. The crew parted as she rushed past them, slamming the cabin door behind and letting out a gut-wrenching wail.

Perseus turned back to the sea, but Linus was gone. Had the blade been enough to take him out?

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Medusa sat on the wooden floor, hunched over a bucket filled with a swirling rust-red mixture of blood, tears, and filth. Her hands trembled as she scrubbed at the gore encrusted beneath her nails.

Flashes of dismembered bodies passed before her eyes. She had enjoyed every moment of tearing into Linus’s goons, turning them to rubble and steaming piles of flesh, until … until she had turned to see the crew fearfully averting their eyes. When she had smelled their cold sweat, guilt had suddenly made her victory taste sour. What had she done?

One of her snakes frantically lapped at the lonely tear that rolled down her cheek. They were in a frenzy, still drunk from the violence, hissing and begging her for more as they feasted dried-up blood on her face and neck.

A wave of resentment washed over her. She had never despised the serpents, whose bloodlust she had shared throughout all these years, as much as now. Weeks ago, the sightof men trembling before her would have brought a cruel satisfaction. They deserved to feel as powerless as she had when her humanity was stolen. But when Perseus had looked away, it had pierced her heart. He had finally seen the truth, the monstrousness that lurked beneath her skin.

The hinges of the door creaked. Medusa didn’t turn; she did not need to, for his scent made her aware of his presence. She continued scrubbing at her hands, her skin turning raw.

Had he come to kill her after all? She could understand after what she had done. She would not resist.

“You probably regret sparing me now.”

Silence hung heavy in the air. Then, Perseus knelt beside her, dipping a linen cloth into the bloodied water. Before she could protest, he gently began to cleanse the gore from her arms and shoulders.

Finally, he looked at her, Andromeda's veil draped over his face, his eyes shimmering with sorrow. “Why would I, Medusa? You saved me from certain death not once … but thrice now. Why would I want to harm you after all this?”

Another tear streamed down her face as her frustration bubbled to the surface. She hadn’t killed those men to save him. She had slaughtered them, drunk on their fear and gorging herself on their blood. To save Perseus, she only had to immobilise them, maybe kill Linus. Fast and efficient. Instead, she had dragged their deaths out, choosing to rip out their throats rather than granting them the quick, painless death of being petrified. She had deliberately saved Linus for last to savour the moment his hatred turned into undiluted terror.

“Because I am a monster,” Medusa choked out.

Her confession felt final. Yet, when she looked at Perseus, she could find no sign of resentment or disgust — only admiration andlonging.

“Never, not once since I met you, have I believed you were a monster,” he murmured, his gaze intense. “Even when you were my captive, when I believed I had to kill you, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Because I knew ... you weren't the monster. I was ... for taking your freedom, the life you deserved.”

Medusa’s throat bobbed. “I’m a monster and a killer.”

Even if Athena miraculously turned her back into a mortal woman, her soul had forever been stained by the countless deaths and the pain she had inflicted.

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