7. Reyla
7
REYLA
I woke with moonlight streaming in through the porthole, the roll of the ship, and a furious belly. Rushing to the bathing area, I emptied my guts into the toilet.
Somehow, my body found more to give, wrenching up what I’d eaten last night, yesterday morning, and perhaps even what I’d consumed three days prior to that, splattering it inside the basin.
My belly continued to rock.
Farris whimpered from beside me, nudging my arm in sympathy.
Finally, when even my toes felt empty, I rose and staggered to the sink. I cleansed my mouth and returned to the bed, flopping down onto it and curling into a ball. Farris hopped up beside me and nudged my arms until I opened them for him to step in and settle beside me .
“My lady,” Lord Briscalar called out from the sitting area in a cheery voice. “My lady? Are you awake?”
“Go away,” I moaned. Make it all go away.
The ship hitched, swaying this way and that, and I roared up from the bed, barely making it to the toilet again before I flung more of my guts into the basin.
“Oh, my. My lady.” Lord Briscalar rushed into the room and stood beside me.
I settled back onto my heels and groaned, still clutching the edge of the toilet.
His feet fidgeted on the floor, and his hands twitched at his sides. “Sea sick, are you?”
How could he tell? I shoved my hair off my face and grimaced at the sour taste flooding my mouth. “Make it end.”
“I . . . I don’t know that I can, my lady, and I do apologize for that. Unfortunately, healing spells escape me. I understand seasickness passes quickly, however.”
“How quickly?”
“A few days, they say. I personally have not experienced it myself. I’m a true sailor, I suppose, managing the swells and rocks of this glorious ship without even a twinge in my belly.”
Bile rushed up my throat, and I aimed it at the basin.
“Oh, my.” Lord Briscalar flung himself backward before the splatters could find his clothing. “I’ll . . . King Merrick will be here today. Perhaps he can help.”
Lovely. Just lovely. At this rate, I was going to hurl my guts onto my new husband’s shoes the moment I met him. Lore’s shoes would be better. Sadly, I couldn’t even crack a smile at the thought .
“I’ll . . . see what Lord Lorant has to say about this,” he said.
“No Lorant,” I growled. “Do not tell him I’m sick.” That damn man would crow about it, mock me for what he’d no doubt see as one of my many “fluffy” weaknesses. That would only make me feel worse.
“Are you sure, my lady? I assure you, he’ll be quite sympathetic.”
No chance of that. “Don’t tell him.”
“As you wish.” He left the room.
I cleansed my mouth again and returned to my bed, curling around Farris who licked my arm and gave me a look full of dismay. I slept for the rest of the day—other than the times I rushed to the toilet to continue emptying my belly.
Lord Briscalar checked on me periodically, bringing me cool water and telling me that the king had arrived and that he wanted to see me to offer his sympathy.
Good that he was feeling sympathetic.
Bad that he wanted to see me.
“Please no. Not right now.” What a way to greet my new husband, but at this point, I didn’t care. Just toss me into the sea and be done with it.
Seasickness haunted me through the night, though it felt as if the vomiting had slowed. Maybe I’d live after all.
Drifting to sleep sometime after midnight, I woke to movement beside my bed and slitted my eyes open to find Lore standing there, scowling down at me.
Farris’s tail pinwheeled, thumping on the bed and he whimpered, crawling toward the man.
“Go away,” I growled at Lore. “Or I’ll vomit on you. ”
“Do so if you wish,” he bit out. “I’m sure it’ll wash off.”
“You came to gloat.”
He raked his fingers through his dark, moonlit hair. “About what, pray tell?”
“You told me I’d get sick, and now I am.”
His snort rang out. “You’re suggesting I did this to you?”
I shot him a glare. “Yes. I am.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your misery.” He pivoted sharply and started toward the door, grumbling over his shoulder. “I’ll take my belly calming spell with me.”
“Wait,” I snapped, opening my eyes all the way, though I couldn’t host enough oomph to lift myself up off the bed. “You can make this better?”
He didn’t turn but at least he stopped. “I will make it better.”
“Why?”
Returning to the bed, he stood over me—brooded over me. “You’re sick. I can help.”
“That sounds too simple.” I made myself move, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and propping myself upright with my palms on the blanket. My hair hung around my face and chest in a bird’s nest, and I must look horrible.
I immediately chastised myself for caring what Lore might think about my appearance.
“Get it over with, then.” I shoved the hair off my face.
“Do you plan to thank me or glower?” So clipped. So snappy. Did he ever crack a smile or say something sweet to anyone?
“At this point, you haven’t done anything but growl at me, so you’ll get no thanks from me yet. ”
His lips curved into a devious smile that made my limbs quiver. “Ask nicely and I’ll help you.”
At this point, I’d do almost anything to feel better.
“Would you please cast your spell to take away the nausea?” I asked in as sugary a tone as I could manage. It wasn’t easy with this guy who continued to scowl, the scar on his face twitching.
His dry laugh rumbled, and the sound hit me in the chest, bringing my heart to a standstill. “What did it cost you to ask?”
“My soul,” I huffed.
“Your stomach’s that bad?”
“Either do it or leave. I don’t care.” I dropped back onto the bedding and curled around Farris.
Lore remained beside the bed for much too long a time, his heavy gaze drifting across my body. He didn’t touch, but my skin still coiled tight. I felt naked and vulnerable, though the majority of my body remained covered by my nightgown.
“You are prickly,” he finally said.
I cracked one eye open to look up at him. “You noticed that, did you?”
“What makes you think I don’t want to help you?”
“The fact that you’re standing beside my bed, glaring at me, while not helping me.”
“Noted.” He closed his eyes, and his hands stiffened at his sides. The porthole window flung open, smacking against the hull, and bits of pink shells and mist floated into the room, drifting over to swirl above where I lay on the bed.
If I had any energy left inside me, I’d yelp and scramble away, but I was too far gone for that. I lay there, willing to let him do what he could, though I didn’t have much hope he’d fix anything with seawater and shells.
The mass churned, slowly mixing until it made a slurry.
He thrust out a mug and directed the glop into it before holding it toward me. “Drink.”
“You really do want me to throw up on you.”
“Selune shells, when combined with a bit of sea mist, will cure nausea.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough to see you to shore.”
Alright. At this point, I either drank the seashell goo or rushed to the bathroom and see if my belly had anything left to deposit inside the toilet.
He wrapped his warm arm around me and helped me sit, and honestly, that felt sweet and almost kind, attributes I hadn’t thought Lore possessed. He held the mug to my lips.
“Yes, like that,” he said softly as I took a tentative sip. “I suggest you finish it all.”
It had a surprisingly refreshing taste. You’d think Lore would go out of his way to add something to make it taste bitter, if only to irk me. Instead, it was reminiscent of rain water with a hint of something salty, and smooth, almost silky. It went down easier than I’d expected, and it settled in my belly without making it churn.
He set aside the empty mug and helped me lay back down on the bed, gently tucking the blankets up to my chin. Straightening, he continued to stare at me.
“I won’t explode.” I stifled a yawn. For the first time in forever, I didn’t feel like flinging myself into the bathing area to grovel in front of the toilet.
“I know you won’t. Your resilience . . . captivates me.”
“You don’t say?” Sleepy, I couldn’t drag up enough strength to open my eyes, though his words surprised and even shocked me. “Captivate is a rather odd word choice, don’t you think?”
“Why odd?”
“Coming from you, a snarly man who can’t find a kind word for anyone.”
“You don’t know me.”
“And it’s better that I don’t.”
“Most would agree with your statement.”
“Do you?” Only now could I slice open one eye. He watched me with what looked like bitter tenderness, though how something could be bitter and tender at the same time eluded me.
“I didn’t see this coming.” With that, he pivoted and left the room.
I drifted to sleep, and if I dreamed, I didn’t remember.
But my belly stopped boiling.