The time she’d spent alone and waiting for Théadan to return had been agonizingly slow. Keeping an eye on Wyndagar served as a distraction, but Navia had to alternate between that and her body trying to dispel more phantom contents of her stomach. She could barely go through the movements any longer, her muscles were so sore, but the flinching of her diaphragm still occurred. It was likely to make her even sorer. Luckily Théadan came back before too long and Navia watched silently when he moved to sit between her and Wyn, his hand comfortingly going to rest on her back. She sat up a little better with a small groan, reaching for the waterskin and shaking her head to the hope he had not taken long.<br/><br/>Navia did not want to risk drinking any water for the time being, though she knew she could likely become dehydrated quickly from all the liquid she’d thrown up. She figured she could wait a little while until the ship calmed though, and instead swigged some of the water around in her mouth to be rid of the vomit taste. After spitting the water into the bucket she’d brought with her, Navia shoved it between the wall and the closest barrel to her, holding it in place should she need it again, but hopefully tightly enough so it would not roll away in the next jerk of the ship. It was just so rough and ruthless. “Seems like a miracle we haven’t capsized,” Navia murmured dully, her dark eyes momentarily resting on Théadan’s face. As if to prove her wrong, another wave wrenched the ship to the side, throwing them against the wall they leaned on more.<br/><br/>At her wits end, exhausted by her illness, all Navia wanted was for the storm to be over. She’d been trying so hard to not get any help or comfort, wanting to remain strong and seem like it was nothing she couldn’t handle, but she was so worn down that Navia wanted nothing more than Théadan’s care. After a heavy, staggered breath, Navia turned and lowered her head down to his lap, hoping she could take her advice for Wyndagar and apply it to herself. Perhaps if she laid down, the movements would affect her less. She adjusted, turned onto her side, and buried her face into the warmth and familiarity of his abdomen, her arms wrapping around his back so her hands could grip his hip and keep her close despite the violent rocking of the ship.<br/><br/>She started to tell him how scary it was to her, how she feared the ship would just continue to fall sideways one of the times it tipped so perilously, but the ship once more rocked to one side, forcing Navia against Théadan more. A horrendous<i>crack!</i>sounded far above their heads, followed by frenzied yells of the sailors, and finally a heavy thud that shook the walls of the ship. Navia closed her eyes and tried not to think of what it could have been, instead curling up and pushing closer to Théadan in hopes it would calm her. “Tell me more about our future home, will you?” She asked miserably, hoping for a distraction.<br/><br/>Ten or so minutes later, Navia managed to doze some, lulled by Théadan’s warmth and presence, so she missed Risho stepping heavily down the stairs to the steerage deck. Drenched from head to toe, a little blood smeared across the plain white shirt he wore, the captain took in the sight of the horse lying on its side, the Mes’Mo’Tanian prince sitting beside it, and the Duchess curled up with her head in his lap. She was still, uncharacteristically so, and suspicion began to fill Risho before anything else did. He took a few steps further into the room, eying the Duchess to see if there was another wrong with her before turning his attention to Théadan. Gaze narrowing, wanting to protect the woman his country considered royal, Risho pointed an accusing finger at Théadan, “You said you will not hurt<i>Sitvati</i>. What do you do to her? Why she not up?” He needed her to translate after all; he had no other way to explain the ship otherwise.