Book 3: Good News in Small Packages

King Dartmoth Croft

“‘We need food. We need medicine.’” I toss the letter into the fire with the other petitions. If they wanted food, they should have won my war.

Tormentia is the laughingstock of every kingdom on the continent. Not only did my soldiers not fight when the Shadowglade and Warfang armies arrived from the north, but they ran away like pussies. Rafe Poe, his bitch wife, and Alpha King Karl Striker had simply waltzed back into the palace as though they’d only been on a vacation, and my men had been housesitting for them.

“I am going to crush them,” I say, though with what army, I have no idea. My warriors are a bunch of pansies.

I should stop feeding them, too.

Pacing, I reach out and snatch up another letter as I pass my desk. This one is from Hybridia.

Those disgusting half-bloods and their weak attempt at a community…. As soon as I am done with Shadowglade, I’m crushing them next.

Or perhaps before, I seethe