Ferran's Map Read Online Free PDF

assassin a warm smile.
    “Training?” she asked, trying not to stare
at the water droplets trickling down his chest.
    He raised a dark eyebrow.
    “Walking?” he asked in return.
    Sora flushed.
    He pulled his black shirt over his damp body
and turned to walk away. Sora shot a glance at her mother—who
watched both of them closely.
    In an attempt to appear normal, Sora tried
to speak again. “Uh…nice day out, isn’t it?” she asked, stepping
after him. She winced. Much too forced!
    He glanced at her briefly as he kept
walking. “It’s fine.” His voice held a rough edge. Only a month
ago, he was imprisoned and tortured by Harpy soldiers. They placed
a sunstone collar around his neck; the light of the stone had
burned into his flesh. The scar still showed on his collarbone, and
his voice had never fully healed.
    Sora didn’t feel like giving up quite yet,
so continued, right on his heels. “The fog burned off,” she
offered. “Nothing like a clear winter sky!”
    Crash looked upward. “Funny thing about
fog,” he said.
    “Oh?”
    “It plays tricks on your ears. Sounds tend
to carry.”
    “Oh?” she repeated softly.
    “Aye,” Crash murmured. “Though I suppose
Burn knew that, hmmm?”
    Sora opened her mouth, then shut it
abruptly. Her footsteps came to a halt.
    Crash continued walking down the side of the
ship, heading toward the galley. She watched him. Her hands slowly
curled into fists. He knows, she thought. He knows about
the rumors, and so does the whole damn ship. Humiliating. She
had the sudden urge to throw herself into the river.
    Her mother’s hand suddenly landed on her
shoulder. “Here,” Lori said, steering her toward the railing. Sora
leaned up against it, swallowing the frustration in her throat.
    Lorianne cast a sharp look at the gawking
Dracians, who hurriedly ducked their heads. Her hand moved
restlessly around Sora’s upper back, massaging the stiff muscles.
“You’re awfully tense.”
    “I’m fine,” Sora gritted out.
    “What happened between you two?” Lori asked
calmly. “You barely speak to one another. You’ve been out of sorts
since the Lost Isles.”
    “Nothing,” Sora repeated. “Nothing
happened.”
    “You can tell me about it, you know, if
there was a disagreement, a fight of some kind….” Lori hesitated.
“Or if he hurt you….”
    “Lori!” Sora snapped, turning to glare at
her. At times, the word mother still felt strange on her
tongue. “How could you think that of Crash? Just because he’s an
assassin doesn’t make him violent.” Goddess, it sounded desperate
even to her own ears—of course assassins were violent, especially
the Sixth Race. They were creatures of Darkness and Fire. They fed
on chaos. She tried again. “You don’t actually believe the
Dracians, do you?”
    Lori gave her a searching look. “No,” her
mother finally said. “But I worry about you. Crash is…not very
approachable. The Sixth Race is difficult to read.” She paused
again and continued carefully. “We have a lot to consider about
him, now that the Shade is trying to summon the Dark God….”
    Sora shook her head. “You can’t blame Crash
for that,” she said.
    “I don’t,” her mother replied swiftly. “But
we don’t know much about him. We don’t know his previous
alliances….”
    “Then you believe the rumors?” Sora balked.
“You believe Crash would hurt me?”
    “No, I just want you to be cautious!” her
mother exclaimed.
    Sora frowned stubbornly. Her mother’s lack
of trust bothered her more than anything else. Did the entire ship
see her this way? As a young girl in the thrall of a ruthless
assassin? Who knew what the Dracians were really saying? Burn said
“abuse,” but perhaps he had tried to soften the blow. Used, she heard in her mind. Taken advantage of. Raped. Any of
these concepts could be part of the rumor mill.
    Her mother touched her arm, and Sora
couldn’t abide the sympathy, the distraught look, that crept