The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 371: Night Discussions IV

I sat there while Makeh’s words hung in the air like smoke that refused to dissipate, curling into my lungs whether I allowed it or not.

You are feeding it.

I bared my teeth and felt heat rise behind my eyes. If working with vampires would burn the world, then so be it.

If bargaining with monsters made me one too, then I would wear the title gladly. People had died for less noble reasons than mine. Kingdoms had fallen for greed and pride and jealous wars—but suddenly it was my work that would end the world?

Then let it tremble.

Inside my skull, El sighed like someone witnessing a slow-motion disaster.

You’re being dramatic, she drawled. Mass extinction is not a personality trait.

Shut up, I snapped back in my head. You’re not the one being told you’re the reason the sun might someday die.

Darius cleared his throat.

I ignored him.

Makeh shifted beside her simmering pot and added something fragrant to the broth, as though she hadn’t just accused me of cosmic catastrophe. My hands curled into fists.

"Working with vampires brings death and darkness," I muttered. "Good. They’re not exactly the sunshine-and-rainbows faction anyway."

You are being petulant, El muttered.

Says the voice sent by a goddess who enjoys suffering.

"Sage," Darius said sharply.

I shot him a look.

He exhaled through his nose. "Makeh," he said, turning from me to her, "why is she affiliated with vampires? Why would someone with her power seek rot instead of resistance?"

I stiffened.

"And what revenge," he added coldly, "are you hunting that needs undead monsters to carry it out?"

Makeh looked at me then. Really looked. Her dark eyes probed, searching, measuring.

I glared right back at her. Daring her to talk about my life, my issue with the triplets. I would have razed down the hut!

She shrugged.

"She’ll speak when she’s ready," she said, then resumed stirring like nothing had happened.

Darius bristled. "That is not an answer."

"It is the only one you get," she replied calmly.

I could feel his frustration like heat rolling off him. Good.

"Sage," he tried again, softer this time. "Listen to me. When war came for my people, when the ancients were slaughtered..."

I turned away.

"Sage," he insisted, rising to his feet. "What you’re playing with? It is worse than you imagine. War doesn’t end when bodies fall. It festers. It poisons the land. Children are born wrong. Magic rots. History forgets names..."

"Stop." My voice cracked like a whip.

He fell silent.

I turned back to Makeh.

"Why now?" I demanded. "Why is your mouth loose now and sealed six years ago? You watched me walk into death and said nothing. You let me bleed. You let me suffer. You didn’t stop it. You didn’t save me."

Her stirring slowed. Her eyes dropped to the pot.

"And don’t lie," I hissed. "Because if you knew then what you claim to know now, you could have intervened."

Makeh took a bowl from the table and scooped broth into it. Instead of answering, she lifted it and sipped.

I clenched my jaw in fury. "Of course," I muttered. "Cryptic as ever."

She extended the bowl toward me.

"Drink," she said. "You’ll need the energy to leave this place. Unless you want to dig into your own reserve."

I hesitated. Then snatched the bowl and drank. Anything to get this truth from her.

The taste hit instantly. Rich. Bitter. Sharp with herbs I couldn’t name. And beneath it all—power.

It slid through my veins like wildfire, pooling deep inside my core. My muscles loosened, my spine straightened, my vision sharpened. I exhaled slowly as strength flooded back into me.

The same as six years ago.

I handed the empty bowl back slowly. "Now talk."

Makeh sighed and lowered herself into the chair.

"The time hadn’t been right," she said. "The goddess did not permit it."

I scoffed bitterly. "You always say that. Convenient."

Her eyes lifted to mine. "I warned you."

I laughed without humor.

"Yes," I snapped. "In riddles and air and half-sentences. I thought you were half-mad then. Still do."

"You were walking away with ambition in your chest and hunger in your blood," she replied. "You weren’t attuned to anything but yourself."

I flinched.

"...Lust," she added quietly.

My jaw went tight. "I was a child," I snarled.

"You were powerful," she corrected.

I looked away.

"And what about saving me?" I demanded. "You could have yanked me out of that alley between life and death. Instead, you left me... despite appearing me in my visions..."

"That," she said evenly, "was not my role."

I stared at her.

"The foolish queen had it handled," she added.

That made me laugh. A sharp, empty sound.

"The queen?" I echoed. "You know how much I hated her then, and yet you let her save me. Now, we are pals. I hope you are happy."

Makeh’s mouth thinned. "She is not what you think, Sage. And she is not your ally."

"Oh yeah? What is she then?" I mocked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she is not light," Makeh said softly, ignoring the sarcasm. "She is rot with a crown."

Something in her tone made my skin prickle.

I remembered the barren land. The silent magic siphoning.

Of course she knew. She had always known.

My lips pressed into a thin line. "You’re saying don’t trust her."

"I am saying she is evil," Makeh replied. "And far more dangerous than any vampire."

Silence clenched my lungs. What?

Then Makeh added, "I do not trust her children either."

I snorted humorlessly, retrieving my speech. "Of course they’re flawed."

"No," she said quietly. "They are not empty vessels of chance. They carry their mother’s faults in their veins."

I looked away. This was becoming too much. I lifted my hands and dragged them down my face.

"Fine," I muttered. "So the queen is evil, even though she saved my life. Her children are not saints. Vampires equal apocalypse. Ancients are almost extinct. Gods choose favorites. Wonderful."

I exhaled. "Then what am I?"

Darius looked up sharply.

Makeh studied me for a long moment before she answered. "Tell me about your visions."