Page 90 of Crown of Serpents

He bellowed Andromeda's name, his voice barely a whisper against the inferno's roar.

It was hard to see below deck amidst the raging fire, but he heard a muffled cry from the back, where they had stored their food. Kleos pressed on, running deeper into the hull. He had to get Andromeda out. He would not return without her.

Kleos skidded to a halt at the threshold of the storage unit. A wall of flames separated him from Andromeda, who had begun to free herself from a grain sack, where she had hidden. Her face was streaked with soot, and tears were streaming down her face as she struggled to breathe. Kleos could tell that she was growing weak as the smoke grew thicker inside the small room.

Her eyes rolled back, and … Kleos lunged through the flames, the heat searing his already blistered skin. He caught her as she fell, cradling her limp form against his chest. The stench of burning flesh mingled with the acrid smoke, but he ignored the pain, his only thought to escape the fiery tomb.

The wooden stairs were a distant mirage through the smoke. He stumbled forward, Andromeda's weight a precious burden. The fire licked at his bare back, a searing agony, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on, shielding her with his own body.

The heat had been unbearable before, but now it felt like Kleos was being boiled alive, which he would probably be soon. He ran for the stairs, carrying Andromeda’s lifeless body. Dread spread in his gut as he glanced down. She had to hold on just a bit longer. The path Kleos had taken before to get to her no longer existed, flames engulfing them entirely. There was no way he could reach them without getting burned. It did not matter. Kleos pulled Andromeda closer to his chest, delicately kissing her brow, and ran. An agonised scream tore through him as the fire started singing his arms and back. He pressed on, shielding Andromeda with his own burning body.

Kleos reached the stairs, Aetos’s and Atticus’s panicked faces loomed above, urging him to hurry. He climbed the steps,leaving a blazing inferno in his wake.

Beneath him, the ship grumbled. Then, with a booming snap, the mast broke, a giant timber falling towards them. Kleos threw himself sideways, shielding Andromeda as the wood shattered the deck. Cold seawater surged in, dragging the soon-to-be shipwreck under the surface.

Andromeda’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking with his. A weak smile touched her lips and made him forget all his pain – or the fact that he was mere moments away from dying.

Summoning the last remnants of his strength, Kleos rose to his feet and jumped. They flew through the midnight air for a few heartbeats before the cold, soothing water enveloped them. He could feel his skin sizzle in the smooth current as they gasped for air. The saltwater stung his raw, charred flesh, but Kleos suppressed a wince. A piece of driftwood bobbed nearby. Kleos hoisted Andromeda onto it, his vision blurring.

Her voice was a whisper against the wind. „You came for me … you … you saved me.”

Kleos grasped her hand, holding on like she was his only tether to the mortal world. He croaked, his voice still raw from the smoke: „I will always come to save you, Princess.”

Her murmured thank you was the last thing Kleos heard before he was engulfed by the encroaching darkness, his powerful frame pulling towards the abyss.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Medusa sprinted through the palace, her feet hammering against the cold, hard ground. She did not bother hiding in the shadows, as it would only slow her down. She wouldn't hesitate to cut down anyone who stood between her and Perseus.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she rounded the corner, heading toward the central courtyard. Each breath came sharp and fast, her mind frantically retracing the path to the megaron. She veered right, the opposite direction from where she and Kleos had gone before. The lantern-lit corridor stretched out before her, its walls adorned with frescoes of vibrant sea creatures that seemed to dance in the flickering light. The burning in her sides intensified, but Medusa gritted her teeth and pushed through the pain, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls as she pressed on.

Reaching the end, she hesitated, unsure whether she should turn left or right. She cursed, trying to remember Orestes’ crude map.

A gut-wrenching scream from the right decided for her. Her stomach dropped as she ran toward the escalating sounds of battle, realising it was too late. The trap had already snapped shut.

She turned the final corner. Ten guards faced her, swords raised before a massive oak door.

Medusa stared down her opponents, snakes writhing atop her head. The guards pointed their weapons at her — a challenge she gladly accepted. Medusa gave in to her dark power — to the thrum in her veins that demanded blood. She slashed, whirled, and stabbed, bodies falling around her, staining the marble tiles in puddles of crimson. She barely noticed when one soldier sliced her shoulder with his blade. A stream of hot blood ran down her arm, but her attention remained on the door and the cries for help beyond.

With a final spin, Medusa beheaded the last guard who stood between her and the door, his head rolling to her feet. She stepped around the slumping body and threw herself against the door. It didn't budge. Barred from the inside.

Panic rolled over her like a wave. She stepped back a few steps and hurled herself against the door again. A sickening crack echoed against the high walls, one of her ribs shattering from the impact.

Suddenly, a body slumped against the door from the other side, a sword clattering. In horror, Medusa watched the blood seep under the doorsill. Then she heardhimscream. Perseus. He was hurt, but he wasalive.

She began pounding the door, splinters flying. It would not open. Tears brimmed her eyes as she stared at her bloody knuckles. She had defeated the guards, only to be trapped, forced to listen to her friends die. And unable to help Perseus.

No, Medusa decided. This couldn't be the end. There had to be another way in.

Medusa turned her back to the door and raced toward a smaller corridor on the left, visualising the palace layout. Orestes had mentioned that the megaron was built on the highest cliff, overlooking both the island and the sea. A portico stretched around the lower level of the palace, which was typicallypatrolled by guards. Medusa flew down the stairs.

She skidded to a halt on the portico. In the silver moonlight, the megaron towered above the cliff to her right.

Without hesitation, she sprinted toward it, flung herself against the last column lining the corridor. She tried to get a hold, but her palms and feet slipped on the smooth marble. Medusa almost plummeted down the cliff but threw herself onto the portico instead. She tried again, using her talons to climb but fell once more.

Medusa panted, tears of desperation dwelling in her eyes. She was wasting valuable time. Medusa inhaled deeply and wedged herself between the closest column and the wall. The stone against her back was rough, but she used her legs to push herself upwards regardless. This time, Medusa did not slip. She reached the ledge, dangling for a few terrifying moments above the rocks and water. Then, she swung herself onto the roof and scrambled to her feet. Medusa clung to the facade as she slowly crept forward, cautious not to slip on a loose tile.

The window to the throne room was within reach, but the megaron was eerily silent. Cold dread spread throughout her body.

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