The sunrise brought with it rougher waves that slammed into the ship with a force that made the walls shudder around her. The fear and loneliness Aisha had felt was replaced with seasickness. She tried lying down and closing her eyes in hope of relief, but that only made it worse. Nausea climbed her throat, sharp and unrelenting. She fought it, but the ship lurched again, and she knew she was going to be sick.
Stumbling out of bed, she fell against the door, her vision blurring. When she opened it, she came face to face with a soaking-wet Tariq holding a pail. Water dripped from his hair down his face. They looked at each other in the grey light.
‘In case you don’t have your sea legs yet,’ he said, extending the pail to her.
She slapped a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to not be sick in front of him, but it was no good. Grabbing the pail, she vomited while he watched on.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, beyond mortified.
‘Even the strongest of stomachs are being tested right now.’ He looked up. ‘Half the crew are currently emptying theirs.’
The cold air coming down the stairs was bliss on her face.
Tariq gestured for her to go back inside. ‘I’ll stay with you.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
Taking the pail, he turned her around and guided her back into the cabin. ‘I need to take care of this. I’ll be back in a minute.’
Embarrassed, and thoroughly ill, Aisha did as she was told.
Tariq returned with a clean pail, leaving the door open behind him for fresh air. They sat side by side on her bed with their backs pressed against the wall, listening to the storm.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m fine.’ She drew her knees up and leaned her head back, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, trying not to notice the rise and fall of the ship.
It was no good. She returned to the pail at Tariq’s feet and was sick again. He reached out to hold her steady.
‘Don’t look,’ she said, waving him away.
‘I assure you, I’m not.’
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, fighting back tears. Thankfully, she had nothing left to bring up after that. She sat with her nausea, wishing she was anywhere else but on the ship. While Tariq certainly wasn’t her first choice for company, his presence eased the sharp edges of everything she was feeling.
As the hours dragged on, the storm’s fury lessened. The waves became smaller and less frequent.
‘Do you want some air?’ Tariq asked when all was still.
She nodded weakly. ‘I’m guessing you do.’
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. ‘Let’s go.’
The deck was a wreck of seawater and tangled ropes. Barrels had broken loose and were being dragged back into place. The sails hung heavy and soaked, straining against the rigging. The crew moved like ghosts through the aftermath, their clothes plastered to their skin and steps sluggish from hours of fighting the storm.
Tariq guided Aisha to the base of the mainmast, where they sank down onto the damp boards and leaned back against the solid post. The clouds began to thin and break apart, and light spilled over the deck. It was too bright for her, so she closed her eyes.
‘You should start to feel better soon,’ Tariq said beside her.
Aisha barely registered his words as she fell into an exhausted sleep.
When she woke, the sky was a brilliant blue. She blinked, adjusting to the stark light. That was the moment she realised her head was resting on Tariq’s shoulder. The fabric of his cloak was rough and wet, yet warm. Not only had he remained there as her pillow, but he’d changed his position to provide better comfort.
A flush of awkwardness washed over her as she carefully sat up, running a hand over her wild hair. ‘Sorry.’
There was the faintest hint of amusement in Tariq’s eyes.
‘And thank you for… all of that,’ she said, her voice hoarse. ‘That must have been very unpleasant for you.’ When she looked over at the pail, she was both relieved and embarrassed to discover that someone had rinsed it clean.
