The King glared at the picture, eyebrows knitting furiously like a pair of brawling caterpillars, before snarling and scrunching it up. Evidently, someone was sending him THESE again.
He’d spotted the intruder skulking around his postbox and immediately whistled security. Unfortunately, for Wynchel and Duncan blood-sugar wasn’t so much a health issue as a ratio, so by the time they’d got to the motorbikes the racer (he HAD to be a racer, to get through the Royal Raceway and down to the castle without anyone seeing him)’d slipped straight out the Game Gate.
All that they’d been able to say is that the guy wore a lot of blue. And that it was hard to see, but there might have been two of him.