Ferran's Map (30 page)

Crash studied her. Sometimes he seemed to
understand her silence better than her words. “I’m staying by your
side,” he repeated.

“While Burn is tortured? He might already be
dead!” she declared angrily. “You can’t take this decision out of
my hands. I’ve grown, Crash. I’m stronger now. I don’t need you
hovering over me. Why can’t you see that?” She thrust a finger at
his chest. “I hate that you keep your past from me. I hate that you
lie!”

Crash’s face darkened. “You think I enjoy
lying to you?” he snapped. “In my race, deception means
survival.”

“Then I hate what you are, and what the Hive
has done to you,” she seethed.

Crash stared at her. He seemed shocked by
her words. His voice became low and tense. “You can’t hate me for
what I am. What I am is what shields you.
What I am
stands
between you and a horde of demons! Why are you so infuriatingly
blind? Everything I do—every damn word I say—is with you in
mind.”

Sora searched his face, trying to
understand. He grimaced for a moment, then his expression went
stoically blank, like a mask sliding into place. “I’ll find Burn.
That, I can promise you,” he said directly. “But tomorrow I will
accompany you and Ferran. I will make sure you’re safe. You have no
choice in that.”

“
No choice
,” Sora mocked, suddenly
furious. “Burn’s life is more important than my safety. What have
you been training me for, if I can’t defend myself against the
Shade?”

“They’re stronger than I thought,” he
started, but she held up her hand to stop him. He grabbed it.
“Listen to me. The leader of the Shade, I knew him very well. He is
someone to fear, Sora. I
want
you to fear him because it
just might keep you alive. If they took you and not Burn….” He
paused. “Stay as far away from the Shade as you can. Don’t seek
them out. Trust me, will you?”

His words caused a chill to run down her
arms. She had never heard Crash speak of fear in such a way. In
fact, she remembered his advice on the Lost Isles—
Fear is a
product of the body. It is an illusion.
Why would he encourage
her to fear now?

“You don’t need to worry about me in The
Regency. I’ll be among the nobility, surrounded by servants and the
King’s soldiers—” she started.

He pointed at the wall as though they stood
at The Regency gates. “That’s the Shade’s territory,” he observed.
“They will take you in a heartbeat, given the chance. Drop your
guard on the street, in a doorway, in a shop, and they will take
you. Cerastes will use you for his own dark purposes.”

Sora glared at him, but his grip tightened.
“I know that defiant look,” he said. “You think you can withstand
him now, but Sora, you can’t imagine what they’re capable of.” He
dropped her hand and grabbed her by the waist suddenly, his left
hand cupping her rib cage over the white scar. “Do you remember
this?” he asked softly.

Sora’s pulse tripled. She could feel his
warm palm through her shirt. She couldn’t breathe. He did not brush
her lightly, but pressed his entire hand against her.

Nervously, she ran her tongue over her dry
lips. “You wrote me a note.
For the first time I felt fear
,”
she quoted softly.

Those words hung between them, rich with
meaning. For the first time he had felt fear—because she almost
died. Her scar seemed to burn momentarily against his hand. She
struggled to retain her composure, hardly able to keep eye
contact.

“Your life is far more important to me,” he
whispered. “I won’t let them take you.”

His words stole her breath. She struggled
for a moment. “That’s wrong, Crash. We’re a team. We can’t abandon
Burn….”

“I know,” he hushed, “but I will find him. I
made you a promise. Let me handle it while you go with Ferran.” He
paused. “This is your quest, Sora. If you fall, we all go with you.
Don’t you see that?”

She frowned. Somehow, she had always thought
of this as
his
story, his adventure, and she as just an
innocent bystander swept up in his wake.

He pulled her forward, his hands still firm
on her waist. Sora gasped at the iron strength of his arms. He
looked at her throat where her pulse pounded erratically, then at
the Cat’s Eye, gleaming around her neck, then up to her face, her
lips….

Anticipation coiled in her stomach. She
forced herself to breathe. “Are you going to kiss me again?” she
asked, her voice huskier than intended. She cleared her throat.
“Because that didn’t go so well last time.”

A smile flickered across his face. Crash
leaned down and set his forehead against hers. “Does it truly
matter what I do now?” he asked softly. “I tried to keep my
distance. I wanted to protect you from the Shade, but they
discovered you anyway.”

“True,” Sora agreed.

“I wanted to avoid rumors on this ship, but
I suppose that didn’t work, either.”

“No, not very well,” she admitted.

“What do you need from me?” he asked
softly.

Sora wordlessly pressed herself into his
chest and closed her eyes. She felt wrapped in his presence,
engulfed by his warm scent. She wished she could stay that way for
hours, that he would tilt her head up and kiss her again, like he
did on the Lost Isles.

Footsteps could be heard down the hall going
past her door, reminding her of the crowded ship, and the stressful
day looming tomorrow.

“It doesn’t seem right,” she finally
admitted. “With Burn’s life hanging in the balance and the Shade so
close, should we really talk about this now….?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything,” he
said.

She expected him to withdraw, but his arms
stayed around her. They stood like that, for longer than she knew.
The silence between them was comfortable and familiar, like dust on
a warm hearth. The tension left her shoulders. She remembered a
time when they had touched like this regularly, innocently, without
a thought for the future.

His self-control is admirable,
she
thought. He must feel the heat building between them….

“Perhaps we
should
talk about this?”
she broached.

“No,” he said. “Let’s not.”

“When?” she asked. Something about his reply
made her pursue it. “When shall we settle this?”

He searched her eyes with a bit of humor.
“Is it really a matter to be settled?” he asked. “Like some
business arrangement?”

She sighed, suddenly impatient. “Either we
admit what’s between us, or we don’t. We keep returning to this,
Crash, but I can’t stand here with just one foot in the water.”

“Then perhaps you’re the wiser one,” he
replied. The resignation in his voice caught her attention. She
pressed her cheek against his chest and wrapped her arms tightly
around his waist, keeping him as close as possible.

“You’re pulling away,” she said.

His hands stroked her spine as he curled
around her like a living shield. Then he slowly detached himself.
“You said it yourself. All or nothing,” he reminded her.

I assume by that he means "nothing,"
she thought. She blinked hard, wishing her eyes didn’t sting.

“We’ll rescue Burn,” he assured her.

She nodded quietly.

“I’ll save his life,” he repeated.

She nodded again.

He smiled faintly. Then, without another
word, he turned and walked out of her cabin. His shadow trailed
reluctantly along the wall.

Sora sat back again on her cot, a hollow
feeling at the base of her throat. She thought of the familiarity
of his embrace, his possessive arms and the touch of his forehead
against hers.
Don’t dwell on it,
she told herself.
He's
made his choice.
Whatever was between them remained deep and
uncharted, like an unfathomable ocean. She couldn’t call it love,
but it went beyond fancy, beyond passion, and it was far from
innocent.

He’s made his choice,
she reminded
herself. But for this moment, between candlelight and darkness, she
allowed herself to imagine what might be.

* * *

Burn’s head spun. He felt sick to his
stomach.

His Wolfy ears twitched. Somewhere in the
distance, he heard the sound of churning gears, like a heavy jaw
endlessly grinding. It made his head throb even worse, and he
winced.

When he finally focused his eyes, he
appeared to be in an empty, half-constructed room. Piles of rubble
littered the floor and exposed wooden beams supported a heavy stone
ceiling. By the thick walls and musty dry air, he guessed he was
somewhere underground. He tested the chains on his wrists: solid
iron. For the moment, unbreakable.

“Ah, he’s awake,” a voice murmured. A dim
figure stood across from him at an open doorway. He could smell the
man—Cobra, the one he had tackled through the portal. His head
throbbed, but the memories were clear and sharp.

Beyond Cobra, another figure seemed to hover
in the darkness. Burn squinted; his vision blurred again. When he
moved, he felt sticky blood matting his hair.

Why am I still alive
? he
wondered.

“Keep him for a while,” a low voice reached
his ears. “Don’t bother me again until you have the girl.”

“Of course, master.”

“And where is Krait?”

“Taken.”

“Ah.” The soft, sinister voice paused. “I’m
sure she’ll find her way back home.”

The conversation stopped. Burn squinted
again, but he couldn’t tell if anyone was still in the room. He
couldn’t focus any more through the pounding in his skull. He
closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “Better you kill me now,”
he murmured to the darkness. “You might not get another
chance.”

A soft laugh reached his ears. “Spoken like
a true mercenary,” he heard. “But when my master says wait, we
wait.
”

Wait. Assassins did not show mercy. The
Shade wouldn’t keep him alive unless they had a plan. A flurry of
thoughts ran through Burn's head. They might use him as bait to
lure his friends into a trap, or to bargain for the Dark God’s
weapons. He briefly strained against his bonds, instinctively
trying to fight….

Then another streak of pain split his skull,
and he found himself spinning into darkness.

CHAPTER 17

Sora stood in front of the mirror in Silas’
cabin—the only full-length mirror on the entire ship. She studied
her yellow dress with a scrutinizing eye. In her younger days, she
never would have worn anything so simple, but Silas had bought it
last-minute from a vendor on the docks, and with winter solstice
looming, pickings were slim. Everyone wanted a fancy dress for the
festival.

The yellow, form-fitting bodice covered a
long cotton shift with billowing white sleeves. Her flowing skirts
of deep yellow opened at the front, displaying a wide section of
white petticoats. Such a cut would have been highly scrutinized in
the country, where petticoats were thought of as strictly
undergarments, but Silas assured her the style was quite in vogue.
A yellow and gold brocade jacket fit over the bodice. Silas pinned
it last night and her mother spent hours tailoring it, from her
recovery cot on Ferran’s boat, claiming she needed to keep her
hands busy. When Sora asked Lori what she thought of the plan, her
mother only bit her lip and nodded, her eyes focused hard on
hemming.

“We’ll see if it works,” Lori finally
relented.

Sora was surprised by how well the jacket
fit, given their limited resources. Beneath her dress she wore a
new pair of soft leather boots, appropriate for cold weather,
though she knew the nobility would wear heeled slippers until the
snows set in.

Her friend Joan had braided her hair that
morning and wrapped it decoratively around her head. A sprig of
winter jasmine finished off the look, tucked just behind her ear.
All in all, Sora thought she could pass for a rich merchant’s
daughter, or perhaps a country noble from a very meager estate. Not
bad, considering how little time they had to prepare.

Last of all, she pulled on a pair of white
gloves. She ran a hand over the rough crater at the center of her
left palm, thinking of her battle on the Lost Isles and her
Cat’s-Eye stone. The scar, along with her callouses, immediately
betrayed her lower status. She would have to keep them hidden.
Luckily, gloves were regularly worn both indoors and outdoors
during the winter.

So much had changed since she last walked as
a noblewoman. She wondered if she could still play the part.

There was a knock at the door. “Yes?” she
called. “I’m decent!”

Ferran entered. He wore a majestic red
greatcoat with gold-trimmed cuffs. It fell elegantly over a
starched white linen shirt and black vest. His tall leather boots
reached up to his knees. Sora was amazed Silas had found proper
shoes to fit Ferran's large feet.

She stared at him, suddenly awkward. Ferran
Ebonaire. To most people in the Kingdom, the name Ebonaire was
synonymous with wealth: First Tier elite, second only to the royal
family. Raised as a noblewoman, she knew even more about the
family's reputation. Two queens hailed from their lineage. He was
cousin to the prince, though somewhat removed. She remembered that
their current queen was a Seabourne by blood.

And now he was a vagabond lord. Sora could
still detect the wear of travel around his eyes and the heavy tan
of his skin. Still, in his new greatcoat and slicked hair, he
looked every inch a noble. She grinned quietly and wondered if her
mother had seen him yet.

Ferran scratched the back of his neck. “I’m
wearing far too many shirts under this vest,” he grunted. “Silas
secured us a coach. We’re waiting for you.”

Sora nodded and gripped her skirt. “Do you
really think this will work?”

Ferran shrugged. “We have to try,” he said.
“Feels strange, doesn’t it? The whole…” he indicated both of them,
“relative thing.”