15. Claire
Claire
Somehow, someway they got me back into the carriage the next morning.
I didn’t remember agreeing to it, but I remembered the light was far too bright; it spilled through the window, forcing my eyes open when all I wanted was darkness. My head throbbed with a relentless pounding that made even the smallest movement feel unbearable.
My stomach churned.
“Drunkard’s penance,” Caspian had stated with one glance at me. He’d handed me a bowl of broth and a small roll before we left, insisting it would help.
It did not.
By the time the carriage began to move, I had turned at least five different shades of green. I pressed a hand to my mouth, leaning back against the seat, trying desperately to steady myself as the world rocked and shifted around me.
Every jolt of the wheels sent a wave of nausea rolling through me, rising higher and higher until I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold it back. Fragments of last night flickered through my mind—music, warmth, the way the tavern had glowed in the firelight.
Dancing—
spinning—
laughing.
Caspian’s laugh as I stepped on his boot more times than I could count. I could have sworn a low laugh came from where Ash had been sitting, but that couldn’t be right.
Could it?
The thought slipped away as quickly as it came, replaced by another lurch of the carriage. I doubled over, pressing my fingers hard against my temple, trying desperately to dull the pounding.
Nothing helped.
Then came another bump. My stomach twisted violently. And suddenly—
“Stop the carriage! Stop!” Before the wheels had fully stopped, I shoved the door open and scrambled out, my foot catching on my skirts as I stumbled down. I barely caught myself, heart racing, vision swimming—
“What are you—”
Ash’s voice cut off behind me.
I made it just past the road, into the brush, my hands bracing against the damp earth as everything inside me surged forward. I retched.
Again.
And again.
The taste burned. My throat ached. My body shook with the force of it as I emptied what little I had left, until there was nothing but hollow heaves that left me gasping for breath.
My palms pressed into the dirt, the scent of wet grass filling my lungs as I bent forward, panting.
Everything hurt. My head, my throat, and my stomach.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the world to stop spinning. But it didn’t.
The reprieve didn’t last. Just as I thought I was through, another wave hit, sending me lurching forward with my fingers dug deep into the mud. My stomach twisted violently, but nothing came. Only dry, painful heaves that left my throat raw and my chest aching.
I squeezed my eyes shut, gasping. And then—
My breath hitched in surprise as my hair was gathered gently pulled away from my face before it could fall forward again. For a moment, I couldn’t process it. I turned to find Ash crouched behind me.
Her presence was steady in a way I hadn’t expected, one hand firm where it held my hair back to keep it out of my face.
I stared at her, stunned. She didn’t meet my gaze. Another heave tore through me, and she tightened her grip, keeping my hair from falling forward as I doubled over again.
Gods. This was humiliating. And yet she didn’t move away or flinch or make a single comment. When it finally passed, I sagged forward, breath coming in uneven pulls, my entire body trembling from the strain. There was a quiet shift beside me, then something pressed against my hand.
“Drink,” Ash’s voice was firm, leaving no room for arguments.
I glanced down to see a jug of water being offered to me. For a moment, I just stared at it.
“You need water,” she added, quieter.
I gingerly took it, my fingers brushing hers for the briefest second before closing around the jug.
The water sloshed as I lifted it to my lips, taking a tentative sip.
It helped. Not much. But enough. I swallowed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before lowering it again, still trying to steady my breathing.
“I—” My voice came out hoarse. “Thank you.”
Ash released my hair only after she was certain I wasn’t about to lurch forward again. Then she stood. I expected a cutting remark or some comment about how this was slowing us down and I should have known better, about how I was being inconvenient.
“We’re stopping here.”
Her gaze was already shifting toward the road where Caspian stood watching, concern written plainly across his face.
“You’re not getting back in that carriage today,” Ash added.
She didn’t look at me yet, her eyes remained fixed on the horizon as if scouting for threats, but her voice had lost its sharp edge.
“You’re pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf.
You need real rest—not the kind you get riding in a carriage. ”
My chest tightened. Relief flooded through me so suddenly it almost made me dizzy. “You… you’re serious?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
Ash finally glanced down at me. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something different there, something quieter.
“Look at you, Princess. You can barely stand. We’re staying put until you’ve got some color back in your face.”
I stared at her, my grip tightening slightly around the jug. This, from her? The woman who barely tolerated me? And yet, pushing myself shakily to my feet, I found a strange anchor in her presence. Even unsteady on my legs, her being there grounded me.
And, was strangely comforting.