Free Sora's Quest by T. L. Shreffler Page B

anything,” he grunted.
    Sora shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “No, wait, you can't just leave it at that! What assassin? What payment?” Her stomach had turned to rock. She suddenly felt sick and oddly deceived, even though Dorian was not her friend. Her heart pounded. Assassin. Suddenly her thoughts were racing, memories of the previous night, of her father falling to the ground, injured. Perhaps worse than injured. Perhaps....
    “Lord Fallcrest is dead,” she said numbly.
    Her captor didn't answer immediately. Dorian sat as though stuffed with straw. He clicked to the horse, who then moved into a faster trot.
    “It's Crash, isn't it?” she said, her words coming far too quickly. “He's the assassin. He's who you're talking about. Someone paid him to be in the manor. Oh, dear Goddess....” And her mouth went dry, realizing that the entire party had been a trap, that Lord Fallcrest had been a target. Her Lord father.
    Don't panic, she thought, tears pressing their way to the surface. Don't cry!
    “Who?” she demanded, forcing herself to stay composed. “Who hired him?”
    “I've said too much, and you need to stop asking questions,” Dorian said briefly.
    “Who?” she repeated, the panic rearing up again. She grabbed the Wolfy's narrow shoulder, wrenching him around in the saddle. “ Who did this? ”
    “Get off me!”
    “Answer me!”
    Dorian flung her aside, shoving her back. Sora lost her balance with a yelp. Struggling to stay on the trotting horse, she tumbled out of the saddle, landing gracelessly in the dirt. She winced; her hip and shoulder were bruised.
    “Dammit!” Dorian yelled, and brought his steed to a skidding halt. He whirled on her, reining in the horse only a few feet away from her. With a strange expression on his face, he looked down at her. “Don't run!” he said. “If you run, I'll have to kill you.”
    Sora was still recovering from the fall. She sucked in a breath of air, then rolled to one side, climbing painfully to her feet. It had been a hard, unexpected impact. “Blast you,” she cursed. “Murderers. The both of you. You deserve to be hanged!”
    Dorian dismounted and stood next to his horse, who was upset, pawing at the earth and flicking its ears about. He ran a hand over the horse's nose, holding it firmly by the reins.
    “Don't run,” he repeated to Sora, watching her in alarm.
    “Why not?” she balked, already moving back to the treeline. It would be better to run, truly. Even if she was to be taken by an arrow or a knife in the back, at least she wouldn't be traveling with this lying scum. And to think, she had been warming up to him. “You killed my...Lord Fallcrest,” she grunted, her gut churning again. It was difficult to say “my father.” He had been so little a father to her, more like a distant employer or a landlord. Still, the tears swelled up again, clogging her throat.
    “I don't want to kill you,” Dorian said. But suddenly she noticed the knife glinting in his hand. He held it up, following her gaze, as though trying to prove his good intentions. “You're not a bad sort, Sora. You're quite spirited, for a spoiled noble. Trust me, I'm not the one you have to be afraid of. Just don't run.”
    Sora glared. His words almost won a laugh from her. “Trust you?” she choked. “Trust you? After all you just said? No bloody chance!”
    “There are worse people out there than an honest thief,” Dorian replied earnestly. He actually looked concerned.
    “You take me for a fool?” Sora demanded, almost to the treeline. Only a few more feet, and she could dash into the underbrush. “I'll report you to the nearest patrol and have you arrested! You'll be sent to the King's prisons! Murdering nobility is as good as treason!”
    “Like I said, I'm not the one you should be afraid of,” Dorian repeated. Why wasn't he following her into the forest?
    “Oh? And who is that? My father's assassin?” she spat.
    “Yes.” The voice came