Page 89 of Crown of Serpents

Horror filled Kleos as he stared across the bay towards the ship. Three smaller boats bearing Seriphos' emblem were docked against it. Kleos’s heart sank as he watched a dozen soldiers climb onto the ship, their armour glinting in the moonlight. The autumn breeze carried their shouts and the clang of metal.

“Gods be damned!” Kleos cursed.

He sprinted down the steps, plunging into the icy water. He wasn’t a strong swimmer, but he would reach the ship. He had to. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Andromeda because he had asked her to stay behind. He swore to Ares, god of war, that he would slice any soldier who so much as touched a curly hair on the princess’s head.

That vow propelled him through the dark water. His armour, heavy and sodden, threatened to drag him down, but Kleos pressed on.

Finally, Kleos reached one of the boats tied to the hull. Clinging to the shadows, he tried to listen for sounds from the deck. His stomach churned when he realised there was no fighting. He had hoped that Aetos and Atticus would hold out long enough for him to help them. But neither of them could be spotted on deck from his vantage point in the water. Nor could he see or hear Andromeda. His head spun. Had they seen the soldiers approach and abandoned the ship? Or had they been killed already? He had to get closer.

Kleos’s heart pounded in his ears as he pulled himself onto a small boat, rocking it as he fell face-first on the wooden floor. He scrambled for the shadow of the small sail to hide his large figure before anyone could spot him. Usually, he would not have bothered to hide from his opponents, always charging into battle headfirst, but right now, he would not put Andromeda’s life atrisk by being reckless. Kleos peeked over the sail before he ran for the string ladder that led up the ship. He grabbed the first rung, hauling himself up until he could see the horrific scene unfolding on the deck.

Atticus and Aetos were bound against the mast, bleeding from multiple wounds. Before them stood a colonel from Polydectes’s army, adorned with a plumed bronze helmet. He regarded the two men with a sneer, playing with a leather whip in his hands. The other soldiers searched the ship, pillaging the jewels and finery from Joppa, a sign of gratitude for saving their princess. They threw everything in a big pile, discarding anything they deemed worthless overboard.

The colonel’s voice thundered across the deck, “Quit looting and find the girl! She is worth more than any jewel you will find!”

Relief coursed through Kleos. They had not discovered her yet. Quiet as a shadow, he climbed over the railing, ducking behind the barrels of wine the soldiers had carried on deck.

The colonel continued, fixating his glare on Atticus and Aetos, “Unless one of you washwives finally wants to talk.” He cocked his head, slowly carving a line across Atticus’s chest with the tip of his sword.

The old man spat at his feet. “You will never find her.”

Kleos crept closer. Where was she? The soldiers' shouts echoed from below deck as they ransacked the quarters for the missing princess. He glanced at Atticus and Aetos, their bodies slumped against the mast, blood staining their tunics.

Could they, even if freed, stand against the might of Polydectes's forces?

A soldier emerged from below, his voice laced with frustration. „Colonel, we can’t find the princess anywhere. Perhaps those old fools told her to jump and swim ashore?“

At that moment, Aetos spotted Kleos crouched behind the barrels, his eyes widening in surprise. Kleos pressed a finger to his lips, gesturing him to stay quiet.

The colonel whirled, anger flashing in his eyes. “No, the shore is too far for her to swim at night.” He pinned Aetos with his stare. “But these two know where she’s hiding, and they aregoing to tell us. They just need… the right motivation.”

Kleos gripped his sword tighter at the threat.

The colonel grabbed the nearest torch, setting the sail ablaze. The fabric crackled and hissed, the flames casting a hellish glow on his twisted grin. “A simple choice: drown with this ship or tell me where you've hidden the princess.”

The flames crawled from the sail to the mast, though the wet wood did not catch fire immediately. Kleos’s heart was racing. How long until the ship became a pyre?

Aetos lifted his chin. “A captain goes down with the ship.”

The colonel spat at him, kicking the old captain. Aetos groaned as his ribs splintered with a sickening crack from the impact. Hatred was burning in Atticus’s eyes, as he struggled against his restraints, trying to help Aetos. “As will I.”

It took all Kleos’s willpower to remain hidden rather than pummel the arrogant bastard to the ground.

The fire continued to spread, devouring the groaning wood as the colonel laughed maniacally. “Wrong choice. Princess Andromeda is wanted dead or alive, so it doesn’t matter if she drowns with you. Phineas will pay us handsomely for our deed to the kingdom of Joppa. So, you’ve chosen to die for nothing.”

He barked orders, and his men swarmed, returning with jugs of oil. A torch arced through the air, igniting the wine barrels in an inferno. Kleos's skin prickled with sweat as the heat intensified.

The soldiers retreated to their boats, leaving a trail of stolen treasure and a burning ship in their wake. The colonel’s parting words were a venomous taunt. “I wonder what’s more painful, drowning or burning. But I suppose you will find out soon.”

Kleos moved as soon as the last soldier had left the ship, scrambling to Aetos and Atticus’s side. With sweaty hands, he took off their mouth gags and sliced through the ropes that bound them while burning arrows rained down the deck. One dug into the mast mere centimetres away from Kleos’s head.

“Where is she? Where did you hide her?”

The flames engulfed the entire deck and started to creep into the hull, enraged by the oil and alcohol.

“Below deck… inside a sack of grains…,” Aetos puffed, “but Kleos, you can’t —”

Kleos didn’t wait to hear the rest. He plunged into the burning hull, smoke searing his lungs, the heat a branding iron on his skin, as he covered his eyes with an arm.

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