Delia stood frozen in disbelief, her eyes locked on Jonah, and her mind worked its way through a flurry of thoughts as she began analysing the actions of the man in front of her.

Jonah was the only high red — the only ranked man — amongst their crew on the ship. He was the type of person the royal guard would have taken in as a child to train up, the perfect candidate even, given the fact he had no parents. Greg trusted him more than any other person, so knowing his secrets wouldn’t have been surprising. And Jonah’s reaction to both the Kraken and Siren wasn’t awe or disbelief, but of acceptance. He took it in stride like no one else. He practically ran out of the doors upon knowing the birds of prey were upon them.

Jonah knew.

But how? Since when? Why had he never spoken of it? She didn’t understand.

She studied his face and her mind raced through a multitude of thoughts, struggling to organise the myriad of emotions that welled up in her chest.

Was she okay with Jonah knowing? Was she okay with him keeping such a big secret?

Delia was okay with the knowledge that Jonah knew things that she did not. That her Pa trusted him enough to share secrets, that Jonah hid things from her — everyone had secrets, but seeing the glower on his face directed at her as his hand gripped the hilt of his sword caused her heart to sink.

He was no longer the friend she knew, but a stranger whose intentions were now unclear.

The Jonah she knew would never have prioritised a secret over their friendship, yet there he stood, his hand on his blade, blocking her path.

A lump formed in her throat, suffocating her voice as she struggled to make sense of his sudden shift in demeanour. “Jeremy,” she managed, teary eyes locked on Jonah, “go open that door, please.” As she spoke, a pang of pain shot through her body like a wave, and she felt as if her legs would give way beneath her. The sense of betrayal felt overwhelming.

Though she told herself she was ok with secrets, that everyone had secrets, the fact that Jonah had hidden this from her — the distrust of Jonah to hide this from her — hurt. Maybe it wasn't just about keeping the secret, but about Jonah prioritising the secret over their relationship that was the source of the pain.

“Jeremy,” she repeated with a broken voice.

“Delia, you okay?” Jeremy asked, not moving from where he stood.

“Door. Please.” A warm tear rolled down her face.

“I think we should do this another time, Del,” he said softly. “It’s not like the captain will be going anywhere, and I think you could use some sleep.”

She snapped her head in his direction, looking at him incredulously as a tear flew off into the air. “This is the perfect time,” she said with quiet fury. “Why would we do it later? You think he won't ask Karl or Gavin what they told us?!”

“He probably has already asked Khaleel about what he told us. Greg knows they didn’t tell us anything important”

“We don’t know that,” she snapped. “And even if he did, he’s not one without scepticism. He will definitely ask Shelby and Karl and Gavin to confirm. We need to go. Now.”

“Del, you’re practically shaking and have tears coming out of you like a fountain for Athena knows why. He is not going to take you seriously if you walk in there demanding to be heard like a child,” he said. “And I am not going to let you walk in front of strangers looking like that.”

“I am not a child!” she burst.

“Del, you okay?” Jonah asked, his brows furrowing further, but his voice and grip softening.

She pulled at her hand, escaping his grasp, but before turning to the door herself, her eyes returned to Jonah, scanning his face, searching for any hints of emotions to understand his thoughts.

Her eyes locked onto the warm, comforting brown of his gaze — like glowing embers in the hearth of a cosy winter's evening. And there, etched into his features, was a familiar concern that washed over her, along with shame, regret, and a gnawing sense of guilt for the doubt that beset her.

Of course, Jonah didn’t harbour ill will towards her; It was so obvious now, looking at him — he was just worried. It was a frown of concern, not a scowl of anger.

How had she mistaken his concern for anger? Why had she doubted him?

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

She shook her head. First, she had snapped at Jeremy for no reason whatsoever, and now this. Jeremy was right, she really did need some sleep.

“Del?” Jonah asked tenderly.

“I’m fine,” she finally said, shoulders slumping with the burden of fear, and doubt, and her mistake.

His hand reached up to wipe the stray tear away, and without hesitation, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him in a silent apology. His warm embrace enveloped her back, offering comfort and reassurance in a way that words never could.

Delia felt the tension that had been coiled tightly within her body begin to ease, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. And in that moment, she realised how much of a toll that the past months had taken on her.

Jonah's hand tenderly caressed her back as she tightened her arms around him, her face moving, burying itself deeper into his chest. She took slow, deep breaths to calm the shaking of her body, and the scent of salt, sea air and Kraken meat filled her nose. It made her nose wrinkle, and she broke away, looking up at him.

“You need to shower,” she whispered slowly, a smirk on her face.

Jeremy cleared his throat. “Right… now that you had your moment,” he said awkwardly, “you reckon we should get away from the door and come back later? Feels like we’ve been loud enough that–”

The door to the office room crept open and Delia broke away from the embrace, turning to find her Pa leaning against the doorframe.

“Loud enough that I could hear ya?” her Pa finished. “You were. Now get in here. We got somethin’s to discuss.”

----------------------------------------

“Where did the men go?” Jonah asked, looking around the now empty room.

“They left five minutes ago,” Greg answered. He nodded at them to take a seat, before joining them, sitting where Khaleel had previously sat.

“I… didn’t see them leave?” Jonah said, still standing. “I was standing out in the hallway the whole time.”

Greg chuckled to himself. “You were leaning against the wall with your eyes closed, sleepin’. Unless you can see with your eyes closed, I'm not surprised.”

“I wasn’t asleep, I was –”

“It’s fine, son,” Greg interrupted. “The men move fast. And you’re practically deaf, though your lip readin’ skills don’ give that away.”

“Thank you?” He said, unsure of how to take the compliment.

It surprised Delia too, how much of her Pa’s speech Jonah could pick up. She would have thought his manner of speaking would have made it harder to lip-read. Perhaps she was wrong.

“Right,” Greg said in the ensuing silence. “What were you kids quibblin’ about? What do I need to ask Gavin or Shelby?”

“What were you discussing with Khaleel?” Delia asked.

He raised a singular white eyebrow in an arch. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Neither does that.”

Her Pa studied her for a second, before exhaling deeply and turning to face Jeremy, who sat beside her.

“We thought you would want to ask Gavin or Shelby what the men of house El discussed with us.”

“Jeremy!” Delia’s head snapped to face him in anger.

“Del,” her Pa said, “In the art of negotiation, you don’ wear your emotions on your sleeve.”

You also didn’t have someone betray your purpose, though she bit back the remark.

“And what did they tell you?” Her Pa said, addressing Jeremy again.

“The same thing they told you,” he replied.

Her Pa smiled. “You see Del, it’s give and take. You’re good at readin’ people, but you’re also easy to read.” His smile broadened. “And I can just ask Gavin and Shelby.”

“You could,” Jeremy conceded, “but they wouldn’t have picked up the subtext of, let’s say, the blood oath.”

The grin on her Pa’s face flickered for just an instant, and Delia’s heart thrummed. They had him.

“Blood oath?” Her pa asked, feigning confusion.

"The truce,” Delia said. “The one that 'serves our bond'," she quoted. "The one needed by the royal guard. Or adventurers.”

The captain of the Flightless Owl gazed into Delia's eyes, his face frozen in a polite smile as he considered her words. She matched his gaze, her own brain working overtime, drawing on the wisdom passed down by her Pa and the countless hours she had spent observing him deftly negotiate information with others in this very room. She knew she had to stay one step ahead of him and mindfully map out the potential paths the conversation could take.

He wouldn't dare play the fool, not in front of her. Delia knew him too well to fall for such tactics, so he would have to resort to more subtle manoeuvres, like leaving statements open to interpretation, allowing her or Jeremy to draw their own incorrect conclusions. Although he wouldn't stoop to outright lying or misdirection, her Pa was a master of using language to his advantage and skillfully navigating conversations to achieve his desired outcome.

Delia was confident in her speculations, but she knew better than to reveal too much too soon. How much could she reveal before he would see through her facade?

His other strategy would be to take enough information from the pair and then end the conversation prematurely. She couldn’t risk that. She needed to be conservative with the knowledge exchanged, giving only the definitives.

“You’re as sharp as your mother Del,” he finally said.

“That’s low, Greg,” she said firmly. Was he trying to pry a response from her using emotion? Using her mother?

He raised his two palms in the air. “I’m not manipulatin’ you before you get any wise ideas. I’m coming clean. You want to know what I’ve been hidin’. I’ll tell you.