The clamor of the inn gripped at the nape of Tekla’s neck, making his skin feel uncomfortable. These inns were never his choice of respite when reaching land, but he had business to attend to and no other choice. After Sega had vanished, he found a table to himself in a shadowy corner and poured himself a cup of wine. Their wine was decent, maybe a touch too sweet. He rolled the liquid around in his cup, gazing blankly at the way the light distorted over the surface. He was keenly aware of the noise of the pavilion, and of a change in the din. He glanced up to see Vigo walking towards him from across the room. He moved like a panther, powerful and fluid, and the crowds parted for him. If Tekla didn’t know the look on his face, he’d take the moment to admire the man. But the menace in Vigo’s eyes told him something was wrong. Still, he waited for Vigo to come to him. The big man bent down to whisper into his ear, and the smell of him invaded Tekla’s senses and he closed his eyes with a soft smile. But the words Vigo whispered snapped his eyes open. 

The blood hissed in Tekla’s ears. He nodded and rose silently. His feet mechanically marched toward the door, his vision shrinking into a small tunnel. He was vaguely aware of Vigo at his heels, vaguely aware of that old crewman watching them carefully from across the room. What was his name? Godrich? What does it matter? That's not important.

He vaguely noticed the rest of the crew’s eyes shifting from him to the old man. 

But he was out the door in to the foggy darkness. The words Vigo had whispered echoed through his mind like a curse. “He’s taken her, she’s wounded.” Tekla clenched his hands into fists as the cold air shocked his skin.

Vigo managed to get slightly ahead at some point as he led them down the cobbled avenue. 

“Just here, My Lord.” Vigo’s voice lurched him out of his thoughts. Tekla’s focus snapped, sharp as a hawk, to Vigo as he stooped over a dark pool on the cobbles. The street was empty, apart from a few dark pools around them, glistening faintly from the scattered lanterns. If his mind hadn’t been so clouded by the terror of where Sega was, Tekla might have considered that it wasn’t her blood. But all he could see was the image of that man driving a dagger into her gut.  

“They’ve left a trail,” Tekla pointed down the avenue. Sure enough, a trail of dark droplets wove down the road. Vigo stood, taking off to follow the trail at a jog into the murky night, Tekla close at his heels.

They followed it down two more turns to a courtyard. Tekla came to a halt, panting more from the panic constricting his throat than from the effort of the sprint. The cold air burned his nostrils as he tried to settle himself. Vigo came to a stop beside him, glancing around. The stillness was unsettling. Nothing moved. Nothing made so much as a rustle in the shadows. Then, a muffled cry echoed through the eerie fog. Tekla locked eyes with Vigo, who frowned and turned toward a door across the courtyard, lit faintly from within.

Vigo charged before Tekla could shake off the images that flashed through his mind. He watched Vigo shoulder open the door before snapping back into his body. He chased after Vigo, storming into he smithy shop as Vigo tackled the new crew mate away from Sega. Embers swirled through the air as the hot iron rod spun and collided with beams and tables before clattering to the ground. The embers and warm air from the fire collided with his senses, he shied the burned side of his face away as he let his eye adjust.

Sega panted on the table, spitting out a strip of leather with a cough. She reached weakly for the man in Vigo’s grip, whispering deliriously as blood seeped from her lips. 

Every muscle in Tekla’s body snapped to attention like a bowstring. Fury surged through him, a visceral flood of rage that barely stayed under the surface. Tekla frowned, drawing in strained, but steady breaths as he gazed down at Sega’s bloodied robes. She leaned over to attempt to rise.

Tekla gently pressed his hand down on her arm. She looked up at him, collapsing back onto the table. He could see the glint in her eye shift from panic to fear. It clawed at his soul to see her look at him like that, it cut down to the core. But he had spent so many years now hardening himself, rage replaced regret, and he didn’t know how to handle the things he’d done. It was too late to take them back.

He steeled himself. His fingers gently brushed her hair away from the wound, careful not to touch the bloodied skin. He stared at the scorched hole over her heart, marring the perfect expanse of her white skin. She remained frozen, like a rabbit in the sights of a wolf. Purple veins of energy glimmered faintly under the skin’s surface around the wound. Bile rose in Tekla’s throat.

“He did this to you?” 

She grabbed his hand, her strength almost gone. His eyes widened in surprise, staring at their hands. He snatched his hand away. He hid it behind his back as it twitched from the searing pain that had bloomed from her touch. His mind reeled, but the rage he felt overruled all other thoughts.

“Vigo. Kill him.” His voice was tight in his chest. 

“Wait.” Sega’s voice was weak, hardly more than a whisper. She looked away from Tekla, her head rolling on the table to see Vigo lifting Lux to his feet.

Tekla followed her gaze then moved slowly towards Vigo and Lux. He clasped his hands carefully behind his back, and leaned close to Lux’s face as Vigo held him still.

“What have you done?” He could barely breathe. Lux clenched his jaw in response. Tekla’s unharmed hand snatched Lux's collar and yanked his face closer. 

“How dare you mutilate her, you sack of shit.” Lux stares silently back. Tekla snarled, “I want. You ripped. Limb. From limb,” the words forced through gritted teeth, voice low enough for only Lux to hear. He stared into Lux’s golden eyes before looking up to Vigo. 

“Ruin him.” Lux's eyes widened before he jerked towards Tekla, but Vigo’s grip was like a vice. Tekla pushed him back as he released his robes. 

“That is not up to you.” Sega managed to muster enough voice for more than a whisper. Tekla turned to look at her as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. She visibly trembled with the effort, her face pale. Her eyes were glued to Lux. “He’s mine to ruin, as I see fit.” She snapped her dark eyes to Tekla. “Remember our terms.” 

He raised a brow at her, the violence in her voice making him chuckle. “Ah. It must have slipped my mind. How do you plan on punishing him then, for these…transgressions?” Tekla waved his hand to motion to her state, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The light from the fire flickered over her shadowed face. He could see her drawing in ragged breaths. “There will be no punishment. I’d be dead if it weren’t for him.” 

The laugh stopped short in his throat. Tekla drug his haunted gaze over her. “You, who has never needed saving. Saved by a cripple? I’m to believe this?” Tekla snorted derisively. He glanced back to the man in Vigo’s grasp. Lux’s eyes were still locked on Sega. It was hard to discern what his expression held; awe, apprehension, admiration. Tekla’s skin crawled. “Vigo, take him to the brig. We will sort this out.” He looked up at Vigo, holding his gaze for a moment too long. Vigo nodded slowly in understanding. A soft smile played at Tekla’s lips as Vigo hauled the man away, then vanished as they passed.

Lux thrashed, trying to break free from his grasp. Tekla stood between Lux and Sega, watching them leave until the door swung closed, cutting off the sound of struggle. For a split second, he wondered why the man had been so silent. He expected much more of a fight. Preferred it even. He could have a clear reason to cut the man's throat instead of just doing it because he felt like it. He turned slowly back to Sega as she sank back down to her back. She clenched her eyes shut. He knew she would never show pain if she still even an ounce of willpower left to hide it. He gazed blankly down at her, at a loss. 

“Who did this to you?” The question came out more gently that he had intended. Sega swallowed before opening her eyes. 

“Some men, they were after Lux.” Her eyes bore into his. 

“Where are they?” Tekla’s hands clenched behind his back.

“We killed them.” 

“Hmm. We didn’t come across any other bodies…How is it that you were the one wounded?” 

“I wasn’t supposed to be there.” Sega paused. “According to them.”

He knew she could see the fury welling in him like a tide, ready to breach the levee. He turned away before it did. 

“Why did you send them?” Her weak voice cut through the air, rippling down his spine like a hammer falling on an anvil. 

He stared at the fire, his back to her. He held his hand out, inspecting it in the firelight. A harsh red welt had formed where her hand had touched his skin. He had nearly broken into a cold sweat from the pain, his hand trembling as the heat of the fire stung the raw flesh. He pulled out a pair of gloves from his belt bag, and swallowed the blood he felt in his throat down as he forced his hand into the leather glove. 

“I couldn’t…”

He turned back to Sega. She had closed her eyes, her breathing shallow. He approached her quietly and reached his hand slowly towards her bare shoulder. The flickering energy drew across her chest towards his hand. 

“I'm sorry...” He whispered, his face fading into dread. He reached one arm under her shoulders and the other under her legs and scooped her easily into his arms. 

Sega felt like she was floating, the cold night air soothing the burning welt on her chest. It felt like electricity coursed over her, dizzying. Her eyes flickered open, long enough to gaze up at the face of the young prince. Her eyes struggled to focus, but relief washed over her. She smiled, closing her eyes again as Prince Tekla smiled back down at her, a look of melancholy that wasn’t his usual charismatic glow. A memory tried to break through the swirling fever dreams. A name lept out, that she hadn't used since before they fled Ash Chasm. 

“Niú." She muttered as she curled herself closer to his chest. "Stay."