Set to Flame (Flame Series) Read Online Free

gaining favor with Sultan Saladin.  Only the commander knew the Lionheart’s location and the role of the Emir’s men was to identify that commander.  Marcus’s eyes could barely make out Garrick chained two men to his right.  Marcus had remained strong until they dragged him back to their prison.   The man had been dragged unconscious back to them.  Even the man Marcus believed to be etched from stone appeared broken.
    Now he watched for signs of life from Garrick who had been beaten and whipped. The swelling of his face made him nearly unrecognizable.  Marcus found himself wondering if he had been beaten first or whipped.  He had seen that his back appeared to be filleted when the guards returned him.  He had seen the blood that covered him.
    Marcus craved to see the mighty Emir brought as low as the men who waited within his prison.  Craved it like a man dying from thirst craved water.  They would not have that opportunity, for the Emir would never consider lowering himself to the filth and desperation of such a place as this.  He had no need, for the men who served under him would get the information they needed and he could pass it on to the Sultan.  All that had to be done was for just one of the knights to be broken.  It would only be a short time he knew, before the agony brought it forward for they were only human.
    Sir Damien LeForte, commander.  That was the secret they protected.  Marcus almost laughed at fate.  Garrick had been sent to lay the path to kill LeForte and now they protected him.  Once they found out who their leader was Ghalib’s men would use the others against him.  Marcus did not know Damien well enough to venture a guess whether he would give up his king.  So far he had not but Marcus could not see the man’s face who sat across from when they had dragged Garrick in.  Was it worth it to save his beloved king?
    The young squire Devlin coughed in his sleep.  Did the cough awaken him?  The day they dragged the young man from the chamber was the day this terrible dream Marcus found himself in would turn into a nightmare.  How could he sacrifice the young man’s life for such a secret?  Disclosing their commander’s identity would sentence the rest of them.  How could he point a finger to Damien in hopes of saving the youth, how could he not?
    “It’s her,” the barely audible whisper came from Halvor next to him.
    Anticipation slammed through his chest along with a great degree of shame for his actions the night before.  She brought water to quench their thirst and food to chase away their hunger, but it was never enough.  He had taken an extra drink, more than his part the night before.  He had seen her sudden scowl and felt her censor of his actions, her judgment even.  He heard it then, the steady yet nearly imperceptible patter of her feet in their light slippers as she moved closer.  He craved to know who she was, but she refused to let them talk to her, nearly fled the first night when Damien persisted.  So now they said not a word, accepted her gifts and found comfort in the brief moments she visited each night.
    She was there, the key slid into the grated door, the lock turned with a small clink and she was pushing the door open.  I’m sorry, his mind screamed at her.  That’s not the kind of man I am.   He wanted her to see this desperately, but he wasn’t sure why because he did not know who this angel of mercy was.  Or was she an angel at all?
    The water and the food sustained them, prolonging their suffering here in this prison.  Wouldn’t that make her a monster?  The torch light streaked through her ebony hair reflecting until it appeared to catch fire.  Her eyes were the brightest green Marcus had ever seen.  They slanted upward on the outer corners giving the woman a decidedly feline appearance.  Marcus had never seen a woman as intriguingly beautiful as she.  She always came alone, in richly made nightdresses, this one seemed to