Young Alistair was chained in a lying position, at the centre of the assembly. The camp was as noisy as hell. Roger stood in front of her, flanked by his army, wearing a huge, triumphant smile. He was twice as large as any man she'd ever seen with long fangs and claws.

"Little Lamb of the white coven. Are you ready to swear your allegiance to me and enter my service." He snarled.

Alistair spat in his face. "I'd never. Mark my words!"

His grin widened as his eyes twinkled at her.

"You are brave indeed! I guess you were never taught the right manners."

He looked over his cloud...