Pallas jolted from her slumber, her breathing fast and her face reddened. She felt the taste of iron linger in her mouth, too parched and deprived of water for her to wash the sensation away with her saliva. She slowly sat up, feeling the hard wood of the catboat’s deck against her back as it tilted beneath her.

She felt her stomach convulse slightly and gagged slightly at the rising urge to empty its contents into the sea. In a panic, she got to her knees, slumping over the gunwale as she heaved again and again.

“Pallas?”

She heard as the Solean whispered her name, scurrying over to try and comfort her as she felt the force of the contractions force tears from her eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” the Solean assured.

She frantically scrambled about the catboat’s deck, careful as to not wake Qingxi and Soleiman as she swept her hands across the floor in search of one of the waterskins the Thosmodenes had stocked them with.

In waiting, Pallas sat limply in place, her eyes still not yet adjusted to the oppression of the night- its darkness so thick she felt as though they were being pulled from their very sockets. Accompanied only by the sound of waves washing against their vessel’s hull, she slowed her breathing, calmed her heart.

“Pallas, here.”

She felt as the Solean’s hand rested on her shoulder, turning around to see her face just barely illuminated by a tiny candle against the backdrop of the night.

The concern in her eyes, the gold in her hair.

Slowly, Pallas helped herself off of the gunwale and took the canteen from the Solean’s hands, pouring water into her mouth before spitting it out into the ocean.

“Are you okay, Pallas?” the Solean asked, her voice tender and timid.

Pallas took a few moments to breath slowly, tasting the salt in the air with each deep inhalation.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she managed. “I just had a bad dream.”

“Mm,” the Solean nodded. “Okay. If- oh!”

The Solean covered her mouth before she could wake the others.

“Your hands, Pallas-”

“Don’t worry about it. It… just happens whenever I have a bad dream,” Pallas responded, setting down the jar to closely inspect the dried blood all over her palms. Looking over her shoulder, she also saw the two splodges of red she had left on the ship’s gunwale.

“I… see,” the Solean responded. “Do you want a towel?”

“Yes, please.”

The Solean disappeared from the candle’s light, fading away into the darkness of the night before returning with a beige rag.

“Thanks.”

Wetting it with the canteen’s water, Pallas picked the stained rag up and rubbed her hands against it, feeling as the hardened crust slowly gave way, cracking along the ridges of her palm and falling to the ship’s deck.

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She felt as the Solean’s gaze remained on her, though she kept herself focused on her hands. Bit by bit, rub by rub. Hearing as the sail rumbled softly whenever the wind picked up.

“Um… Pallas,” the Solean said.

Pallas looked up.

“Thank you. I didn’t get to thank you earlier so… thank you.”

The two of them made eye contact, and Pallas could see as the image of the tiny flame danced in the Solean’s eyes. Just as she knew the Solean could see it dance in hers.

“Rumi.”

“Hm?”

“How did you end up in the Diner?”

“Uhm… well,” she started, trailing off as she wandered into her memories. “I… I don’t really like remembering those things, I-”

…

“...Well, a-at first, my…”

She paused for a while to steady her voice.

“My parents brought me and my younger siblings along with them to Minerva while we were still kids. I remember it being really nice for the first year or so,” she added, slowly regaining her composure.

“But, something happened,” she said. “I… don’t remember the details very well, but we were separated and… I was sent to all sorts of places.”

The flame nearly went out as the wind picked up, saved only by Rumi shielding it from the cold with her hands.

“...And it always was just a blur. I just kept being moved from place to place. Sometimes the people I worked for were nice to me,” she paused for a bit, removing her hands from the fire’s flanks as the wind calmed down.

“But sometimes they weren’t. And… sometimes they really weren’t nice,” she said, comforting herself by caressing the scars on her arms.

“But we saved you from them, right?”

“Uh… yes,” she responded, as if a little thrown off by the transition from past memory to present moment.

“Yes. You saved me, and… now I’m here.”

…

“How old are you, Rumi?”

“Uhm… sixteen?”

…

“Is… is there something you want to talk about, Pallas?”

Pallas set the rag down, the blood once on her hand mixed into its storied tapestry of stains and spots.

“No,” she said. “You’re welcome, Rumi.”

“Mm,” Rumi responded, pleased at the acknowledgement. “Oh, but don’t go back to sleep- we’re almost there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, look,” she said, pointing off into the distance beyond the bow.

She could see it. A thin protrusion above the horizon, barely visible against the growing glow of orange coming from the east. The Phian continent.

She looked back at Rumi, who was still admiring the continent just on the horizon. A land where she’d be free, not bound to the lifelong punishment levied unto her by the Princess for reasons out of her control.

She felt sick again. An icky sense of wrongdoing disgustingly mixed into an otherwise pure blend of accomplishment and pride. Something that tainted her thoughts and shifted her feelings about the Solean.

Mercy does not deter the greedy.

Was that really so true?

…

No, it didn’t matter.

She couldn’t imagine the girl in chains. She couldn’t imagine her, laying broken and beaten with blood oozing out of the lashes on her arms.

Pallas wouldn’t have it. She wasn’t going to doubt herself over saving Rumi. Even if she did, there was no point in sending her back now. After all, what was the difference a single person made?

…

But… she did say that she had younger siblings, didn’t she?

“Okay,” Rumi said, pleased with her efforts. “I think we should wake the others.”