Page 91 of Crown of Serpents

When Medusa finally hoisted herself onto the windowsill, she understood why. The blood froze in her veins at the sight before her. The walls were blood-splattered and lined with guards in bronze armour. At their feet lay mangled corpses, only some of which Medusa could recognise. In the centre, Perseus knelt at the feet of a dark-haired figure, his tunic was stained with blood, his nose broken. Three guards flanked him, one with a blade at Perseus’s throat.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Perseus wrenched his sword free from a sentinel’s gut, warm blood streaming down his arm. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, but Perseus kept swinging. He had lost all sense of time. How long had passed since the last of his men had fallen? Seconds? Hours? He lunged and hacked at Polydectes’s swarming soldiers.

The soldier that had killed Elias came charging at him with a roar. Perseus spun to block his blade, but exhaustion slowed him. The guard barrelled into Perseus with his shoulder, toppling him over. Perseus collided with the stone floor, the air rushing from his lungs, but he had no time to recover with the man atop him. He brought up his arms to defend himself, clutching the sword aimed for his throat, the blade slicing into the flesh of his hands instead.

Perseus reared back and slammed his head against the guard’s head. Blood gushed from his nose, but Perseus ignored the stinging pain as he pressed his thumbs into the sentinel’seyes. The sentinel cried out in agony, and Perseus flipped him on his back, seizing his sword. He would make this bastard pay for killing Elias.

“Enough, Perseus,” Polydectes’ voice boomed among the chaos. “Drop your weapon, or your mother will pay the price!”

Perseus froze mid-swing, Dictys’s sword still hovering above his head, as his gaze flickered to Polydectes, who held a gilded dagger against Danae’s throat. Perseus’s stomach plummeted.

“It’s over Perseus. You lost.”

Polydectes’s voice was distant as Perseus stared at Danae. She was shivering in a thin nightgown, bruises covering her arms. Icy wrath swept over Perseus, but he remained frozen in place. A thin trickle of blood ran down his mother’s neck, Polydectes’s blade piercing her olive skin.

Perseus’s throat bobbed. Polydectes was right. He had lost. Danae shook her head, her eyes a silent plea to keep fighting. But how could he?

The sword slipped from his hands, clattering to the ground in defeat. Perseus could hear epetae storming forward behind him. Rough hands gripped his arms, forcing him to kneel before Polydectes — a cold blade pressed against his neck.

“It really is a shame, Perseus, that you used all that magnificent power you were given to commit treason.”

Perseus glanced around the megaron. A third of the epetae lay scattered in a circle around him, yet no guilt stirred within him.

“If only you had used it to slay the gorgon like you promised, you could have been a hero.”

No, he would not have been. Perseus raised his eyes to the dais again, staring at Polydectes with renewed conviction. Hopefully, Kleos and Medusa had made it out at least.

“You could have been my adopted son,” Polydectes continued, “But now, my lovely bride-to-be will have to watch her son’s execution at her wedding ceremony tomorrow.”

Perseus struggled against the iron grip holding him down.

A whimper escaped Danae’s throat. “Please, no!”

Suddenly, a shadow appeared in the open windows behind Polydectes’s throne. Perseus’s heart leapt, and his eyes widened. He struggled against his restraint, twisting and turning in theguard’s grip, drawing attention away from the silent figure.

“I curse you, Polydectes,” he spat. “May you suffer for all eternity in the pits of Tartarus. May —”

Pain erupted across Perseus’s cheek as a guard struck to silence him. Polydectes’s lips parted in a malicious sneer as he tightened his grip on Danae.

He grabbed her waist possessively, bringing his face close to her neck as he inhaled Danae’s scent. “You know what, Perseus? Maybe I will enjoy fucking your mother when your corpse isn’t even cold yet. Perhaps I’ll put your head on a spike just outside our bedroom window so she can see you every morning she wakes.”

One moment, Perseus’s blood roared in his ears as electricity filled his veins. Then, there was a flash of bronze and a gurgling sound. Danae yelped and crashed to the floor as Polydectes released his grip.

Medusa stood at the centre of the dais in front of the throne, a crown of serpents writhing atop her head. In her outstretched hand, Medusa gripped the king of Seriphos’s severed head, its eyes blank and lips frozen in a rictus of horror. Blood dripped from the ragged neck, staining the marble floor red. Epetae recoiled, their screams turning to stone-cold silence as the gorgon's gaze met theirs.

Perseus scrambled to Danae’s side, covering her body with his. “Whatever happens, don’t look up.”

Medusa’s voice was lethally quiet as she spoke, her face full of disgust as she regarded the head in her hand. “Maybe I will putyourhead on a spike as a warning to anyone who dares to threaten Perseus again.“

An icy chill went down Perseus’s spine as he rose, stepping next to the woman who had come to save him. He interlaced his blood-stained fingers with her free hand as they stared down the remaining men in the megaron. Among the petrified statues, a few cowered, having averted their gaze. Kleos's father, Adamantios, was among them, pale and terrified.

A sliver of satisfaction coursed through Perseus at the sight. He squeezed Medusa’s hand as a silent thank you, but she was not done yet. She jumped off the dais, striding toward the menthat had held Perseus. Two were already turned to stone, but one still lived. He held his weapon outstretched, though the blade was trembling.

Medusa whispered, “Now, who of you would like to follow their king into his death? Who of you hurt Perseus?”

Medusa stepped close, her long nails caressing the guard’s cheek. “What about you? Is that Perseus’s blood on your blade?”

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