Chapter 43 Forty Three
- The small piece of parchment trembled in my tight grip, ,my claws threatening to tear through the delicate fibers of the paper. My golden eyes that's usually cold and calculating, intstantly burned with a wildfire of fury as I read the letter over and over again.
- The scent of ink and aged parchment barely masked the bitter stench of betrayal that clung to the words written on it.
- King Marcus,