Jora had barely spoken a word as Sage led the way back to the cabin, her eyes sharp but quiet. It wasn’t like she didn’t know better than to pry—he’d always been good at hiding things when he wanted to. But when she saw that bruise, the hesitation, and the way he tried to pretend it was nothing... It broke something in her.

She’d waited for him to explain, her hands steady on his shoulders as she sat him down on the bed, but it was clear it wasn’t easy for him. When he started to speak, his voice low and reluctant, Jora listened carefully. He always seemed to downplay everything, but the way he said it—the weariness in his eyes—told her everything she needed to know.

*The lowest of the low*. Jora frowned, her hand brushing his hair aside gently, trying to be careful, though the sharp hiss of pain that escaped him made her want to say something—anything. But she held back, even as her thoughts boiled with anger at those who had done this to him. When she was aboard this ship before, she never paid attention to the servants, and just assumed they got along for the majority of the time.

"Servants and sailors," he said with that resigned bitterness in his voice. She could feel his frustration, the tug of his need to not make things worse, but her heart hurt. She *wanted* to make it better, to pull him out of this mess he’d somehow gotten stuck in. But he was so good at keeping his guard up. It was like trying to break through stone.

“I don’t care about the others, Sage,” she said softly, her fingers lingering a moment longer on his bruised face before she pulled away. "You shouldn't have to endure that. None of this should be happening to you."

But she knew better than to make promises about that—*not yet*. He was right. It would get worse before it got better. She could feel the tension in him, in the way he was *holding back*, like he was already preparing for the worst.

Jora took a slow breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "If it comes to that, I’m not going to stand by while you’re treated like this.” Her eyes met his, unflinching, even if she could feel the weight of her words. He could fight as much as he wanted, but she wasn’t about to leave him to handle it alone.

Jora hears a knock on her door, "Jora, Sweetie, may I come in?" Jora immediately recognizes the voice and opens it, embracing her mother with a hug. "Mom!" She grinned widely, like a child.

Her mother, always the picture of grace, stepped in with a soft smile. “Jora, sweetheart," she began, her voice gentle, full of that familiar care. "How are you? How’s the baby?”

Jora's hand instinctively went to her belly, a smile spreading across her face as she beamed. "The baby is doing great! Still have many months to go—" Her excitement was palpable, but she quickly glanced over at Sage, who was still quietly perched on the bed, watching the exchange with an unreadable expression. Jora cleared her throat and focused back on her mom, lowering her voice slightly, "Everything’s going well, I promise."

Her mom’s eyes softened even more, her gaze filled with concern as she stepped closer. “I’m so happy to hear that. And how are you, Jora? You’re taking care of yourself, I hope?”

Jora grinned, a little self-conscious but undeniably pleased by her mother’s attention. "Of course. I’m fine. You know me, I’m tough." She laughed lightly, though the edge of vulnerability lingered just under the surface. Her mother had always known how to make her feel cared for, and in this moment, Jora wanted nothing more than to bask in that warmth.

Jora sat there, feeling her mom's presence settle like a familiar weight beside her. She could feel the soft murmur of her voice as it cut through the murky silence between them. The room was quiet, except for the occasional creak of floorboards and the distant murmur of the wind outside.

Then came the whisper.

"I know, Jora. I know he's the father."

The words hit her with a strange mix of surprise, confusion, and… relief. She froze, her fingers suddenly stiff in her lap. She hadn’t expected her mom to say it so openly, so bluntly. She’d always been able to tell when her mom was being careful, tiptoeing around the edges of a conversation, but this? This was different.

It wasn’t that she’d wanted to keep it a secret. Far from it. But the truth had always seemed too complicated, too tangled. The mess of it all—her relationship with Sage, the way things had happened, the fact that so much of it had been unspoken between them—had kept her from truly bringing it up. There were too many uncertainties, too many things still left unacknowledged.

Jora’s eyes flicked toward Sage, who had been quietly moving chairs around in the corner. He had always been more comfortable in the background, his presence an anchor even when he didn’t speak much. But he was here, and that was enough. That was the part that mattered, the part she never doubted.

She swallowed hard, trying to compose herself. "How did you...?"

Her mother gave her a soft, knowing smile, her voice still low but gentle. "A mother knows her child. And I know you, Jora. You’re not the type to hide something like that, especially not from me."

Jora's breath hitched. She had thought she could control how much of the situation was shared, how much was seen, but it seemed her mother had seen through it all—every hesitation, every quiet moment between her and Sage.

Her mom wasn’t angry, wasn’t accusatory. It was just a simple statement, as though she’d been waiting for Jora to say it out loud.

"I don't... I don't know how to say it," Jora confessed, her voice low. She could feel her hands trembling, but she didn’t want to hide it. Didn’t want to pretend.

Her mom didn’t answer right away, simply reaching over and taking Jora’s hand in hers. It was a gesture that spoke volumes, even if no words followed. She wasn’t going to push Jora, not yet.

But the truth was out there now, hanging between them, and there was something in the air that felt different. More certain.

And as Jora sat there, staring at the soft, supportive gaze of her mom, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone in all of this as she thought.

Jora felt the change in the air before she could fully understand why her chest had tightened so suddenly. There was something in the way her mother looked at her, a softness in her eyes that wasn’t always there before. It made Jora’s heart ache, even as she tried to mask the sharpness in her breath.

Sage’s quiet shift beside her didn’t go unnoticed. She could feel his protective instinct before he even looked at her, and she appreciated it—more than he’d ever know. She wished she could calm his worry, but she wasn’t sure how to calm herself just yet. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like he had to step in. This wasn’t something for him to fix. It was... it was her to deal with.

When her mother spoke, her voice was steady, gentle, but there was a quiet expectation in it that made Jora’s skin prickle. It wasn’t anger, not really. It was something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She glanced at Sage from the corner of her eye and quickly gave him a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head. Not yet, she thought. Let me handle this.

And yet, despite the discomfort, despite the ache that was always there when her mother was near, Jora felt a surprising wave of reassurance. She could sense something, some hidden form of approval from her mother that had been absent for years. It made her pause, made her wonder if the woman who had once been a stranger in her life could be... something more now. She didn’t know if she could trust it fully, but she was willing to try. For herself. For Sage.

She straightened up, letting her shoulders relax just enough to keep herself grounded. Her mother had never been entirely unkind—just distant. The softening in her expression was confusing, but Jora couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Not now. She focused instead on Sage, meeting his gaze for a moment, silently reassuring him with a small, steadying nod. I’ve got this, she thought. We’re fine.

Her mother’s eyes shifted toward Sage, and Jora felt an almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere, a subtle assessment. Her mother, too, seemed to recognize the bond between them now. Jora couldn’t be sure whether she’d approve or not, but the tension she had expected—fear of judgment or rejection—wasn’t there.

Maybe things were changing.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Jora murmured, more to Sage than anyone else, her voice soft but firm. She knew he wanted to, but she also knew this was something that could only be resolved by her, in her own time, in her own way. She wasn’t a child anymore. She didn’t need her mother’s approval to stand on her own. And yet... there was something in her mother’s gaze now that made Jora wonder if maybe, just maybe, that approval could come after all.