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Prologue

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The Four Kingdoms

Wicked, Ugly, and Bad Prison

Seven Years Ago

“I’m not helping you set off a bomb.” Marrok Wolf told him for the millionth time.

Trevelyan, Last of the Green Dragons, slanted him an aggravated glare. The Big Bad Wolf was one of a handful of people Trevelyan counted as a friend, but sometimes he wondered why he bothered. Marrok might just be the most moralizing villain ever born.

Unlike the wolf, Trevelyan wasn’t willing to passively wait out his sentence. He couldn’t.He had to get outnow. Maid Marion had come back in time with news from the future. She’d told Trevelyan what would happen if he stayed in prison, beyond today.

Snow White, the lunatic doctor who ran the asylum, wanted one of Trevelyan’s spells and he had no intention of giving it to her. If things continued on this course, she would kill him. That was completely unacceptable.

Trevelyan paced around the confines of his cell, morbidly aware of every second that ticked by. It was a literal countdown to his demise. The entire situation had spiraled out of control. He hated being out of control. And he certainly didn’t want to die. He was too powerful to die. Tooimportantto die. He was a dragon!

“I mean it, Trev.” Marrok insisted, when Trevelyan didn’t respond to his latest refusal to help. Even in his human-form, the wolf was some lupine-y mix of lazy and watchful. Topaz eyes stayed fixed on Trevelyan, revealing none of his undoubtedly infuriating thoughts. “I’m not going to blow anything up.”

The two of them shared a cell in The Wicked, Ugly, and Bad Mental Health Treatment Center and Maximum Security Prison and had formed an alliance against the other inmates. From the beginning, it had made strategic sense. The enemy of your enemy is your slightly-less-hated enemy.

Marrok and Trevelyan were the strongest. Against each other, there would only be mutually assured destruction. Buttogetherthey had total dominion. Young as they were, they were still more dangerous than all the other villains in the jail. The two of them ruled the Red Level. Since Red Level housed the worst-of-the worst offenders, thatmeant they ruled the entire WUB Club.

Well,Trevelyanruled it.

To his way of thinking, Marrok lacked a killer instinct. Oh, he could hold his own in a fight, but he’d never haveTrevelyan’s ruthless need to win. Marrok got by on cunning coated in charm. He was surprisingly smart, for a sports star. Words and schemes and a glinting smile were his weapons of choice.

Trevelyan relied on fear. People were so afraid of him, they rarely posed a problem. They just fell into line. He was willing to use his knack for intimidation to shield Marrok from the more aggressive monsters roaming the halls. The wolf therefore owed him some loyalty. It was obvious.

“Wearebombing the prison.” Trevelyan intoned.

The magic inhibitor on his ankle precluded him from casting any spells. He hated that. Deeply. How could the greatest villain in the worldbethe greatest villain in the world with no magic? It was impossible to reach his full potential without his powers.

With his dark energy stifled, Trevelyan had reluctantly decided a bomb was his best option. It was vulgar, but he didn’t need magic to make it work. He just needed bleach and hydrogen peroxide. Maybe some ammonia or vinegar to toss in the mix. Marrok was assigned to the laundry. Some of that shithadto be available down there. Why was the wolf complicating something so simple?

“The chemicals will catch fire, Trev. Or make poisoned gas. Or just fuckingexplode. It will kill hundreds of people.”

“One hundred and eight people, I would guess.”

At least that’s how many he killed on his last attempted escape, in some other timeline, according to Maid Marion. This was a new plan, obviously. In Marion’s original timeline, Trevelyan had died, too. That had to change, as he probably wouldn’t get another do-over. He needed tosurvive, no matterwhat. And if he didn’t have that bomb, his only option was doing something even more god-awful.

Trevelyan hated needing anything, but he needed the wolf. He needed help.

“I’m not killing a hundred and eight people.” Marrok shook his tawny head, like the number was justsohuge that it was crazy to even consider it. “No way. Not even for you.”

Trevelyan was insulted. “Why the frozen-hells not?”

As a species, dragons were isolated and mistrustful. They didn’t make allies easily. Or reallyat all. The fact that he’d accepted Marrok into his confidence was a huge honor for the wolf. He should be grateful. Their pact had started out as strategy, but now they had a genuine friendship. And friendship meant loyalty and loyalty meant setting off a bomb, so Trevelyan could escape.

It was crystal clear as a wishing well.