A Land Of Fire (Book 12) by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online Page B

Alistair shrieked, being torn
apart.
    Alistair woke, covered in a cold sweat,
and looked all around, trying to figure out where she was. She was disoriented;
she did not recognize the small, dim cell she sat in, the ancient stone walls,
the metal bars on the windows. She spun around, trying to walk, and she heard a
rattling and looked down to see her ankles were shackled to the wall. She tried
to shake them loose but she could not, the cold iron cutting into her ankles.
    Alistair took stock and realized that
she was in a small holding cell partly beneath ground, the only light source
coming from the small window cut into the stone, blocked by iron bars. There
came a distant cheer, and Alistair, curious, made her way to the window, as
much as the shackles allowed, and leaned forward and looked through, trying to
get a glimpse of daylight, and to see where she was.
    Alistair saw a huge crowd gathered—and
at its head stood Bowyer, smug, triumphant.
    “That sorcerer Queen tried to murder her
husband-to-be!” Bowyer boomed to the crowd. “She approached me with a plot to
kill Erec and to marry me instead. But her plans were foiled!”
    An indignant cheer arose from the crowd,
and Bowyer waited for them to calm. He raised his palms and spoke again.
    “You can all rest easy now knowing that
the Southern Isles shall not be under Alistair’s rule, or under any other rule
but my own. Now that Erec lies dying, it is I, Bowyer, who will protect you, I,
the next-best champion of the games.”
    There came a huge shout of approval, and
the crowd started to chant:
    “King Bowyer, King Bowyer!”
    Alistair watched the scene in horror.
Everything was happening so quickly around her, she could hardly process it
all. This monster, Bowyer, just the sight of him filled her with rage. This
very same man who had tried to murder her beloved was right there, before her
eyes, claiming to be innocent, and trying to blame her. Worst of all, he would
be named King. Would there be no justice?
    Yet what happened to her didn’t bother
her nearly as much as the thought of Erec wallowing in his sickbed, still
needing her healing. She knew that if she did not complete the healing on him
soon, he would die here. She didn’t care if she wallowed away in this dungeon
forever for a crime she did not commit—she just wanted to make sure that Erec
was healed.
    The door to her cell suddenly slammed
open, and Alistair wheeled to see a large group of people march in. At their
center was Dauphine, flanked by Erec’s brother, Strom, and his mother. Behind
them were several royal guards.
    Alistair stood up to greet them, but her
shackles dug into her ankles, rattling, sending a piercing pain through her
shins.
    “Is Erec okay?” Alistair asked,
desperate. “Please tell me. Does he live?”
    “How dare you ask if he is alive,”
Dauphine snapped.
    Alistair turned to Erec’s mother, hoping
for her mercy.
    “Please, just let me know that he
lives,” she pleaded, her heart breaking inside.
    His mother nodded back gravely, looking
at her with disappointment.
    “He does,” she said weakly. “Though he
lies gravely ill.”
    “Bring me to him!” Alistair insisted.
“Please. I must heal him!”
    “ Bring you to him? ” Dauphine
echoed. “The temerity. You are not going anywhere near my brother—in fact, you
are not going anywhere at all. We just came to take one last look at you before
your execution.”
    Alistair’s heart fell.
    “Execution?” she asked. “Is there no
judge or jury on this island? Is there no system of justice?”
    “ Justice? ” Dauphine said,
stepping forward, red-faced. “ You dare ask for justice? We found the
bloody sword in your hand, our dying brother in your arms, and you dare to
speak of justice? Justice has been served.”
    “But I tell you, I did not kill him!”
Alistair pleaded.
    “That’s right,” Dauphine said, her voice
dripping with sarcasm, “a magical mystery man entered the room and killed him,
then