Entangled

AGBÉ̩KẸ́

I had no idea that travelling long distances by sea could make one feel sick and nauseous. This was my first time at sea; if this is the typical experience, I wonder if I'll choose sea travel again. I couldn't tell if my headache was from feeling seasick or being taken to an unfamiliar land where I might not have the opportunity to make my own decisions anymore.

A small part of me was grateful for the bucket in the room. I keep throwing up into it; we've been at sea for four days now. Often, when the cabin feels stuffy, I step outside for some air, but it only makes me feel worse being among the soldiers who manned the ship, I felt like an outsider, a stranger in a sea of unfamiliar faces, adrift in more ways than one.

The only good feeling is the sun and air on my skin. Leaning against the ship's railing, I gazed out across the endless expanse of water, feeling the weight of distance separating me from all that was familiar.

I can't shake the image of my brother's reaction when he realized I left without saying goodbye. Amidst these thoughts, I lifted my gaze to the sky, using my hand as a shield against the sun. The sky looked gorgeous, clear, and sunny. If only I could feel as clear and beautiful as the sky.

Lost in my reverie, I was startled from my thoughts by a voice at my side. "What are you staring at?" Turning, I found myself face to face with a man from the Egyptian camp when I arrived at camp four days ago, his presence a stark contrast to the vast emptiness of the sea. Tall and imposing, with brown eyes devoid of spark, he regarded me with a smile that held a hint of mystery.

I just stared back, unsure of what to say or how to react.

As the relentless waves tossed our vessel to and fro, his concerned gaze bore into me like a lighthouse beacon cutting through the stormy night. "You don't look so good," he remarked, his words accompanied by a furrowed brow and a hint of sympathy.

I swallowed hard, the taste of salt lingering on my tongue as I confessed, "I don't feel good, but I'll be better once I get to land."

The queasiness churned in my stomach, threatening to spill over like the waves crashing against the hull. feeling nauseous and dizzy. "I wouldn't say I like feeling this way."

Without warning, another wave of nausea washed over me, and I leaned over the railing, emptying the contents of my stomach into the vast expanse below.

To my surprise, the man rubbed my back as I continued to heave. At this point, there's nothing left in my stomach to vomit. As I wiped my mouth with a trembling hand, he offered me a small piece of cloth, a gesture of kindness in the face of my distress. I accepted it after a moment of hesitation.

"Thank you," I murmured, dabbing at my lips.

"I'm Rashidi," he introduced himself, "I'm sorry to hear you're feeling this way. Have you had a chance to eat anything?" he inquired.

I nodded weakly, the memory of yesterday's meager meal fading like a distant dream."Yes, someone brought food yesterday, but it's all gone now," I confessed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over me like a heavy blanket.

Rashidi's expression softened with understanding."Oh, I see. Khalid must have sent him. Just hold on; we'll reach land soon."

"Who?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Rashidi chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "That's right. You have yet to be properly introduced. He is the King"

My instincts were correct; I sensed his high status from the start. He's also responsible for my current situation, and my anger welled up. Rashidi seemed to be close to the King, and I can't help but wonder why he is being kind to me. Everyone I've encountered since arriving here—well, 'kind' is far from the word to describe them.