Chapter 21: Sea Sickness

The ship lurched violently, and Juhtmed barely had enough time to lean over the basin before his stomach emptied itself again. His throat burned, and cold sweat clung to his skin. He groaned, pressing his forehead against the wooden wall of his small cabin.

It had been two days. Two long, miserable days.

The rocking of the ship never stopped. Even when he closed his eyes, the movement remained—a sickening, endless sway that made the world feel unsteady.

"How do people live like this?" he muttered to himself.

A sharp knock on the door made him groan again.

"Come in," he said hoarsely, already knowing who it was.

Lian stepped inside, looking far too well-rested for someone on a ship. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were pulled into a knowing smirk. "Still dying?"

Juhtmed shot her a weak glare. "I hate you."

She snorted. "I told you to eat light before we set sail. Did you listen?"

"I did," he said, slumping against the bed. "And it didn't help."

She crouched beside him, tilting her head as she studied him. "You're not built for the sea, are you?"

"I'm built for land," he muttered. "Solid ground. Walls that don't move."

Lian shook her head, amused.

"Why are you even here?"

She ignored the question and held out a small pouch. "Dried ginger. Chew it. It helps with nausea."

Juhtmed eyed the pouch warily. "Where did you even get that?"

"Unlike you, I prepared for this journey."

He sighed but took the ginger anyway. The taste was sharp, burning against his tongue, but he forced himself to chew.

Lian leaned against the wall, watching him with an unreadable expression.

After a moment, she spoke again, voice softer. "You're still thinking about Kümme, are you?"

Juhtmed hesitated, then shook his head. "Not really."

"Then what?"

He swallowed the ginger, his throat still raw. He thought about lying, but what was the point?

"I keep thinking about everything that happen." he admitted.

Lian's brows furrowed slightly. She never pried too much about it, but she listened.

Juhtmed exhaled slowly. "The envoy to the Dervain estate, Rovan, Nerisa." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "It's funny. I've experience thing, put into situation i would never imagine, it all feel like dream and a nightmare at the same time."

Lian tilted her head. "I didn't know these thing were still tormenting you your highness."

"It's worse." He huffed a tired laugh.

A long silence stretched between them. The ship creaked, the waves crashed, but neither of them spoke for a while.

Then, Lian shifted. "Im still here if you need to talk your highness," she said simply.

Juhtmed turned his head toward her. She wasn't looking at him, just staring at the flickering candlelight. But her words were steady. 

Something in his chest tightened.

He had never had anyone say that to him before.

For a moment, he wasn't sure what to say.

So he settled for the only thing he could manage.

"Thanks again, Lian."

She grinned, finally glancing at him. "Don't die before we reach Kümme, okay?"

Juhtmed groaned, letting his head drop back against the mattress. "No promises."

She laughed, standing up. "I'll check on you later. Try to sleep."

Sleep, at least, was merciful.

And the journey was far from over.

Juhtmed woke to the sound of boots thudding against wood and the distant cries of seagulls. He groaned, shifting onto his side, and immediately regretted it as his stomach lurched in protest.

It was like the entire world had been put inside a barrel and kicked down a hill.

He had barely gotten through the last two days without embarrassing himself in front of Lian, but now, another wave of nausea threatened his dignity.

Maybe if he just stayed in bed and never moved again, he could—

A loud knock interrupted that thought.

"Oi! Your Highness!" The voice was rough, amused, and way too loud for Juhtmed's liking. "Cap'n wants to see you."

Juhtmed cracked open one eye to find a young sailor leaning against the door frame. He was wiry, sun-darkened, and grinning like he had just walked in on something hilarious.

Juhtmed groaned and sat up slowly, trying not to vomit in front of the first crew member he'd officially met. "Why?"

The sailor shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe he wants to see if you're still alive."

Juhtmed sighed and swung his legs over the side of the cot. His body immediately protested, but he forced himself to stand. "Fine. Lead the way."

The sailor turned and gestured for him to follow. "My name is Jaska, by the way."

Juhtmed grunted, focusing more on putting one foot in front of the other without collapsing.

As he followed Jaska onto the main deck, the full force of the open sea hit him like a punch to the gut. The sky stretched endlessly above, the waves rolled in every direction, and the ship rocked as if deliberately trying to ruin his day.

His legs wobbled.

Jaska, noticing, grinned. "Ah. First time on a real ship, huh?"

Juhtmed shot him a glare. "Is it that obvious?"

"The fact that you look like you're about to kiss the deck? Yeah, kind of."

Juhtmed inhaled sharply through his nose. "I'm fine."

Jaska snorted. "Sure. And I'm the Queen of Istre."

Juhtmed ignored him, forcing himself to stay upright as they approached Captain Varlek, who was standing near the helm with a few other crew members. The captain turned as they arrived, looking Juhtmed up and down with an expression that was somewhere between amusement and pity.

"You look terrible," Varlek said bluntly.

Juhtmed scowled. "I feel worse."

Varlek chuckled. "Well, at least you're honest. I wanted to see if you were still breathing, but since you are, I have another reason for calling you up here."

He gestured toward the ship around them. "You're going to be on this vessel for nearly a week. You might as well learn how to be useful."

Juhtmed blinked. "Excuse me?"

Varlek grinned. "You heard me. If you sit in your cabin the whole time, you'll just be miserable and sick. So, you're going to work."

Juhtmed opened his mouth to argue, then paused. He wasn't above hard work—.

"You'll be helping with simple tasks," Varlek continued, as if reading his mind. "Nothing dangerous. Just something to keep you busy and get you used to the motion of the ship."

Juhtmed groaned. "This is some kind of joke, isn't it?"

Jaska grinned. "Oh, definitely. But it's a good one."

Lian, who had apparently arrived just in time to witness his suffering, leaned against the railing with an infuriatingly smug expression. "I think it's a great idea, Your Highness."

Juhtmed turned to glare at her. "Traitor."

She shrugged. "I'm just saying, maybe learning how to function on a ship will help you avoid looking like death."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. What do I have to do?"

Varlek smirked and clapped him on the shoulder, almost sending him staggering. "Good lad. Jaska, show him the ropes. Literally."

Jaska's grin widened. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

Several Hours Later…

Juhtmed was officially dying.

He had spent the afternoon hauling ropes, scrubbing the deck, and—most humiliatingly—being laughed at by the crew when he nearly fell overboard trying to tie a knot.

Jaska had been absolutely no help, either.

"You see, Your Highness," Jaska had said, grinning as Juhtmed fumbled with the ropes. "This is called a bowline. And what you're doing is called a disaster."

Juhtmed had nearly thrown him overboard.

Now, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, he slumped against the side of the ship, exhausted. His arms ached, his legs felt like jelly, and worst of all—he was still seasick.

Lian appeared beside him, looking way too amused. "Enjoying yourself?"

Juhtmed groaned. "I hate everything."

Jaska strolled over, whistling cheerfully. "You did better than I expected."

Juhtmed glared at him. "That's not saying much."

"True." Jaska grinned. "But hey, you only almost died twice. That's a win."

Juhtmed muttered something under his breath, but despite himself, he felt… slightly better.

Maybe it was the distraction. Maybe it was the fact that, for a long time in a while, people weren't treating him like an outsider or a prince—they were just treating him like another idiot who didn't know how to tie a proper knot.

And maybe—just maybe—that wasn't such a bad thing.

As the wind cooled and the stars began to emerge, Juhtmed let himself relax, just a little. The journey wasn't over yet.

But at least, for now, he wasn't suffering alone.