Ferran's Map Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t always understand her mother’s decision to leave her
with the nobleman. For seventeen years she believed she was a
Fallcrest, a noblewoman born into Second Tier nobility. It was hard
for her to see herself any other way.
    “Come,” Lorianne said, interrupting her
daughter’s thoughts and releasing Sora’s freshly bandaged hand.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
    “A walk?” Sora asked, nonplussed. There
weren’t many places to go for a walk aboard the Dawn Seeker .
She had been circling the top deck for weeks now.
    Lori nodded firmly and waited for Sora to
climb down from the wooden bench. Then they walked together out the
door, arm in arm. “I’m composing a letter to Cameron,” her mother
explained. “I thought you might like to add something to it.”
    Sora shrugged. She doubted her mother would
go to all this trouble to compose a letter. No, something else was
occupying Lori’s mind, and thanks to Burn, she thought she knew
what it might be. Maybe, hopefully, the whole thing won’t come
up.
    Once outside, they circled the deck slowly,
their arms linked. The two women had similar physical
characteristics, even if they were eighteen years apart in age.
They shared the same blond-colored hair, her mother’s
straw-straight and worn neatly above her shoulders, Sora’s hair in
long, heavy waves down her back. Sora had her mother’s blue eyes,
if a little darker, less like the sky and more like the deep, cool
water of a lake, a wider mouth, a slightly more pronounced chin,
and a few inches more in height. Still, anyone who looked at them
could see they were related.
    As they walked, several Dracians hailed Lori
with various greetings.
    “Fair morning, Healer!” one called.
    “And the day just got fairer!” another
added.
    “Your hair is like the dawn!”
    Sora resisted the urge to sigh. Healers
commanded a lot of respect from the different races. Sometimes it
was useful—but the Dracians’ blatant flattery grated on her
nerves.
    “Ahoy, mistress!” another sailor hailed Lori
as they rounded the aft of the ship. “Do you have time for an
appointment this afternoon? Got a terrible fungus on my toe.”
    Lori nodded graciously. “Of course,” she
said. “Come by the sickroom after lunch.”
    The Dracian dropped the rope in his hands
and gave an exaggerated salute. Their race came from a union of
Wind and Fire, and they were theatrical to the bone. Sora grinned
at his antics, but the sailor didn’t return her smile, and instead
turned quickly back to his job.
    Her mother noticed the interaction. Lori
spoke casually as they continued to walk. “I’ve heard some strange
rumors flying around the ship,” she began.
    Sora considered a number of responses, but
remained silent.
    Her mother gave her a sideways glance. “The
Dracians like to embellish,” she offered. “But it does make
me wonder….”
    “Rumors…?” Sora fumbled. “I’m not sure….”
Then, just as they rounded another corner of the deck, she came
face-to-face with the last person she wanted to see and almost
tripped over her own feet.
    Crash stood there, with his shirt in his
hands and damp hair. A series of wet footprints led to a large
water basin on the deck. By the looks of him, he had just rinsed
off. Lori recalled his fierce regimen of exercises in the early
morning fog. He looked fit and bristling, his shoulders straight
and wide, his arms powerful, his chest hard and defined. His hair,
the color of deep-forest moss, fell in front of his eyes. His face
always reminded her of a wolf or a jackal, sharp and cunning, with
a straight nose, a defined jaw and firm mouth that rarely cracked a
smile.
    Sora’s heart thudded awkwardly in her chest,
missing a half-beat; she came to a dead halt, her mother pausing
beside her. She became aware of a lull in the activity of the ship;
a few nearby Dracians cast curious looks in her direction. Don’t
feed the rumors, she told herself firmly. She raised her head a
notch and gave the