The Dark Kings, Tome 1: The Mad King

Chapter 1

Danika, fairy godmother extraordinaire, ran her glowing hand over a shadowy bump in the mushroom-cap wall of her home. It was the hiding place for her most treasured and valuable item—her wand. She grabbed hold of the smooth wood, the hum of its power echoing down her fingertips like the swelling vibrations of water dripping on thin metal. And though the wand was worn down from years of granting wishes, there could be no doubt she was the best at what she did.

Of course, that stupid fat cow—oh, what’s her face, the one who worked with Cinderella—thought she was the best. But honestly, what was her claim to fame? Turning a pumpkin into a coach? Or how about making mice footmen?

Preposterous.

She was a disgrace to all the fairy godmothers out there with her ridiculous bippity-boppity-booing.

Not to mention her clientele. That simpering little doll—a classic Mary Sue if ever there was one. Oh save me, Prince Charming, for I am pretty and cannot do a thing for myself. Bat lashes, wiggle bottom, ad nauseam.

Blah!

Pathetic little creature. Danika would rather gouge her eye out with a spoon. A rusty one! And... and... roughened at the edges. She humphed. That’s how much she hated the simpering princes and princesses of her world.

Thankfully, she’d never have that problem. The moment Danika had graduated from Fairy Godmother Incorporated—three hundred years ago—she’d applied to work as godmother to the lowly. Since none of the other godmothers wished to work for the less desirable clients, the powers that be had given her the position posthaste and left her to do her thing. Quite happily too, she might add.

Danika worked for the bad boys of Kingdom.

The degenerates, lowlifes, and naughty villains. She snorted, shaking her head at how little anyone knew about her boys. Why any self-respecting fairy godmother would pass them over for an inane twit who relied on animals to do her housecleaning was beyond her. Grabbing her star-dusted cloak from the coatrack, she tossed it over her shoulders. Glittering bits of stardust drifted to the floor.

A golden bolt of power flowed down her arm, through her fingers, and out the tip of the wand. It swirled like a flame, dousing out the candles. She shut the door behind her. Tiny, iridescent wings broke free of her vest, lifting her high into the bejeweled night. Her path cut through trees with branches as thick as the fattest snakes.

Stargazers shivered at her passing. “Thank you, Fairy Godmother!” they crooned as the stardust settled on their beautiful pink petals. They swiveled on thin green stems, lapping up the powder like a fine wine.

Danika winked, gave them a jaunty wave, and continued on. Most days she’d stop to chat, maybe sing a song or two, but tonight she traveled in haste.

Once a year, the Bad Five (the truly worst of the worst of her boys) gathered to drink, to discuss whom they’d plot against next, and generally muck it up together. It was perfect timing for her—because she had five birds to kill and one stone to do it with.