Reborn as the Psycho Villainess Who Ate Her Slave Beasts' Contracts-Chapter 53 --

As they boarded the barge again, Elara made a mental note: check on everyone more regularly. Just because people looked fine didn’t mean they were fine. Lisa had been suffering for two days in silence rather than ask for help.

Leadership wasn’t just about making big strategic decisions. Sometimes it was about noticing when someone needed candied ginger and a bench on solid ground.

The ’Silver Merchant’ pulled away from the dock, back into the flowing river.

Lisa turned distinctly green again within minutes.

But this time she was on deck with ginger, water, and a pressure point bracelet.

.

.

.

The storm hit on the fourth day, just after dawn.

Elara woke to shouting and the barge lurching violently to one side. She was thrown from her bed, hitting the cabin wall hard enough to bruise.

Outside, the sky had turned black. Rain hammered the deck. Wind howled.

She grabbed her cloak and stumbled out of her cabin, immediately getting drenched. The river—calm for three days—had transformed into choppy, angry water. Waves crashed over the sides of the barge.

"Everyone below deck!" Kael was shouting from the helm. "Passengers inside! Now!"

The merchant crew moved with practiced efficiency, securing cargo and adjusting ropes. But Elara’s people were scattered—administrators stumbling toward shelter, beast knights trying to help but clearly out of their depth on a pitching deck.

The fox knight appeared at her side, gripping her arm. "Your Highness, inside. Now."

"Where’s everyone else?"

"Getting them now. Move!"

He half-dragged her toward the cabin structure as another wave crashed over the rail. The water was shockingly cold.

Inside the main passenger hold, chaos reigned. The five administrators were there, soaked and frightened. About half the beast knights had made it inside. Lisa was in the corner, clutching a bucket and looking absolutely miserable.

"Where are the others?" Elara demanded.

"Still securing the cargo hold," Captain Lyra said, water streaming from her hair. "The converted space where we sleep—the entrance was damaged. We’re sealing it before water gets in."

Another violent lurch. Several people crashed into the walls.

"How long do these storms last?" Dimitri asked, gripping a support beam.

"Could be an hour. Could be six," one of the merchant sailors said. "River storms are unpredictable."

The next two hours were brutal.

The barge pitched and rolled. Rain pounded relentlessly. Thunder cracked so loud it felt like the sky was splitting. Everyone pressed into the passenger hold—too many people in too small a space, all wet and cold and miserable.

Lisa was actively sick into the bucket. Elara held her hair back, one hand braced against the wall to keep from being thrown across the room.

"I’m sorry," Lisa gasped between heaves. "I’m so sorry—"

"Stop apologizing and just breathe."

Mira wedged herself next to them, offering water. "This is insane. Do storms always get this bad?"

"River storms can be worse than ocean storms," the sailor said. "Narrow channels, wind gets trapped, water has nowhere to go but up."

A massive wave hit the barge broadside. Everyone crashed to one side. Elara lost her grip and slammed into someone—Dimitri, who caught her by pure reflex.

"You okay?" he asked, steadying her.

"Define okay."

They stayed pressed against each other, both bracing against the wall as the barge rocked violently. There was no room to move apart. No privacy. Just survival.

The beast knights who’d made it inside formed a protective ring around Elara and the administrators—still trying to guard even in conditions that made traditional protection impossible.

"This is ridiculous," the hawk knight muttered, gripping an overhead beam. "We can fight assassins but we can’t fight weather."

"Weather doesn’t have a throat to cut," Captain Lyra said grimly.

Another hour passed. Then another.

The storm didn’t let up. If anything, it got worse.

Water started seeping through gaps in the cabin walls. The temperature dropped. Everyone was shivering now, soaked through with no way to dry off or get warm.

Elara found herself wedged between Dimitri on one side and the fox knight on the other, all three of them using body heat to stay warm. It was practical, not intimate, but the forced proximity was still strange. She could feel Dimitri’s heartbeat, fast and steady. Could feel the fox knight’s controlled breathing, probably some beast knight technique for staying calm.

"This is miserable," she said to no one in particular.

"Could be worse," Dimitri offered. "Could be assassins in the storm."

"Don’t tempt fate."

Lisa groaned from her corner. "If I survive this, I’m never getting on a boat again. Ever."

"You said that yesterday," Mira pointed out.

"I mean it more today."

Around the fourth hour, the storm finally started to ease. The waves became less violent. The wind dropped from howling to merely aggressive. The rain slowed to a steady downpour instead of a deluge.

Kael’s voice carried from above: "We’re through the worst! Hold tight for another thirty minutes!"

Collective sighs of relief.

People started shifting, trying to stretch cramped muscles and assess damage. Several beast knights had bruises from being thrown around. One of the administrators—Marcus—had a cut on his forehead from hitting a beam. Lisa looked like death warmed over but had stopped actively vomiting.

"Everyone accounted for?" Captain Lyra called out.

A quick count confirmed everyone was present.

When they finally emerged onto the deck, the destruction was clear. Cargo had shifted. Ropes hung loose. Part of the railing was damaged. But the barge itself was intact, and the merchant crew was already assessing repairs.

"Could’ve been worse," Kael said, looking exhausted. "Could’ve been much worse. We got lucky."

Elara looked around at her people—soaked, bruised, miserable, but alive. The beast knights were moving carefully on the wet deck, clearly having learned from earlier mistakes. The administrators were helping secure loose cargo despite having no idea what they were doing. Lisa was sitting on a barrel, looking green but determined not to complain.

"How far to Port Crestfall?" Elara asked.

"Two days if we make good time. The storm pushed us off course, but not badly."

Two more days. Two more days of this.

But they’d survived a river storm. Survived it together, crammed in a too-small space with no privacy and no comfort.

If they could survive that, maybe they could survive Port Crestfall too.

"Alright," Elara said. "Let’s get dried off and figure out what needs fixing."

As people dispersed to their cabins to change into dry clothes, Dimitri caught her arm briefly.

"You did well," he said quietly. "Keeping calm. Helping Lisa. Not panicking."

"I was terrified."

"Everyone was terrified. You just didn’t show it." He released her arm. "That matters."

As Elara changed into dry clothes in her small cabin, she realized something: the storm had been the first crisis they’d faced as a group where palace politics didn’t matter. Where hierarchy didn’t matter. Just survival.

And they’d survived.

Two more days to Port Crestfall.

Whatever waited there, at least she knew her people could handle a crisis.

Even if that crisis involved buckets, seasickness, and weather that wanted them dead.

But its like God really like to play jokes on Elara .

The attack came on the fifth day, in the late afternoon when everyone had finally relaxed after the storm.

Elara was on deck reviewing supply lists with Petra when she heard the shout.