She is kept quite occupied with small magics to keep the ship operating smoothly, and also with notebooking - writing quite small, as she brought more than enough notebooks for three weeks but then unexpectedly used many of them to draw and write with the demon and has only half of one left for several days at sea.
They land on the shore of the Elven Lands on schedule, and disembark.
She leans on him and closes her eyes and tries to focus on the comforting love and not on the spying. She's not even thinking anything in particular that she cares about having read, right now, but she doesn't know how to make it less - not concentrating on that not concentrating on that, just on the warmth the love the sleepiness -
She sleeps, eventually.
The demon curls up and holds her. All night. He spends the time practicing, to see how long he can go thinking about his love for her and nothing else.
Oh, snuggles! He can snuggle without thinking. Just loving her, and touching her, and breathing the scent of her hair, and draping his wing over her like a leathery blanket. Just that.
Nicenicenicenice. If it were like this all the time - well, she still wouldn't have wanted to Bond, she wanted to accomplish things with her life - but if it were like this all the time it wouldn't have frightened her so much.
He notices 'nicenicenice', but he doesn't quite notice it all the way - he doesn't break out of focus, just wraps his arms around her and loves her some more, content in half-conscious sensual enjoyment of the fact that someone he loves is happy.
He is not doing it perfectly - he has thoughts, slow lazy things that dawdle across his mind, formless and wordless - but he manages it for a good while longer.
When he's lost his hold, Isibel sighs. "I'll go to my teacher," she says. "And concentrate on magic."
Hugs, and she withdraws and goes back to her instruction. She hyperfocuses through every explanation she gets and every spell she tries.