The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 430: To save II

SAGE

If I hadn’t been carrying Freda in my arms, I would have rushed Makeh without thinking.

I would have crashed into her, wrapped myself around her, cried against her shoulder like a child who had been lost too long and finally found home.

She didn’t look like the kind of person who enjoyed physical affection. She had never been soft. Never indulgent. But I didn’t care. Not in that moment. Relief and emotion burned too brightly in my chest for restraint.

Instead, I called her name. "Makeh." The sound carried everything I couldn’t say.

Happiness flashed in my eyes as I hurried toward her, only slowing when I reached her. She smiled at me, that familiar knowing curve of her lips, calm and composed as always. Laura stood nearby, watching with barely veiled astonishment—though I suspected Makeh had already introduced herself to my second foster mother before I arrived.

"I see you are hale and hearty," Makeh said lightly.

Her smile faded the instant she noticed the weight in my arms. "What happened to her?"

The warmth inside me dimmed as reality crashed back in.

I shifted Freda forward, my hold tightening. "The goddess must have known," I said breathlessly. "She must have sent you here. Freda needs help. She’s not dead yet—my magic is holding her together, keeping her from taking her last breath."

My voice trembled despite my effort to keep it steady.

"Please," I added more softly.

Makeh shook her head, sadness briefly flickering across her eyes.

"You shouldn’t be using your magic like that," she said gently. "Not when you’re about to face the queen. She’s stronger than the last time you both trained."

I bit down on my lower lip. Of course she was. That truth didn’t surprise me. But the ache in my chest flared anyway.

"I couldn’t let her die," I said quietly. "I won’t pretend I could."

"No," I added more firmly, shaking my head. "It wasn’t okay. It still isn’t."

I pushed Freda toward Makeh again. "Then take over," I urged. "Hold her. Heal her. Let me rest before I go back out there."

Makeh shook her head again.

The motion made my stomach drop.

A familiar irritation stirred—the old impatience, the old fire—but I forced it down before it could spill. I tightened my grip on Freda, grounding myself in the weight of her body, in the reality that this wasn’t about pride or temper.

"Why?"

Makeh paused. "It isn’t in my place."

Anger sparked anyway. "It isn’t in your place?" I echoed, incredulous. "Then whose place is it, Makeh? Because she’s dying in my arms."

My voice rose despite myself. "If you don’t help her," I snapped, "then I will."

Her brows knit faintly. "You won’t."

"I will," I insisted.

"You won’t," she repeated calmly. "And I won’t let you."

It felt like arguing with stone.

Frustration twisted in my chest. "I can’t let Freda die," I said hoarsely. "I won’t stand here and watch that happen."

Makeh exhaled slowly. "I didn’t say she would die," she said. "I said it isn’t in my place to heal her."

The distinction confused me more than it reassured me. My brows furrowed. "Then explain."

She studied me quietly. "Do you trust me?"

The question landed heavier than it should have.

Trust.

My mind did a recap through everything that had happened over the past few days—betrayal, secrets, lies, blood, pain, revelations, and my heart ached with exhaustion. But when I looked at Makeh, at the steady presence she had always been, something inside me steadied.

"Yes," I said, after a beat.

Relief softened her expression. She extended her arms.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then shifted Freda into her hold, depositing her carefully as if handing over something sacred.

"Let her go," Makeh said quietly.

I understood what she meant. The magic. The invisible thread I had woven to keep Freda anchored to life.

Fear came instantly. Every worst-case scenario flooded my mind—her breath stopping, her heart stuttering, her slipping away the moment I released control.

But I swallowed. And let go. My lungs emptied on a slow exhale.

To my surprise, Makeh’s own power threaded seamlessly into place, continuing where mine had ended, supporting Freda’s fading energy like a cradle. Thank heavens.

Then Makeh turned, and handed Freda to Laura.

"Take her to the Lycan region," she instructed. "To where the triplets and the ancients meet. That’s where the solution will be found. Work with the doctor there, until the permanent cure is made."

Confusion started afresh.

Laura blinked, startled, but nodded immediately, shifting Freda into a more secure hold.

I stared between them. "What?"

Nothing about this felt linear. Nothing felt clear. Why the riddles? Why the indirection? Why couldn’t Makeh just say what she meant plainly?

The goddess and her cryptic rules! Why did clarity always feel forbidden?

Laura turned to leave, then hesitated, glancing back at me.

"How will my community believe her?" she asked. "They’ll need me to corroborate the story Sage wants to tell."

Makeh waved her off lightly. "Don’t worry about that," she said. "Just hurry to the Lycan region."

Laura nodded, kissed both my cheeks quickly, murmured a warm good luck, and hurried out of the hut with Freda.

I watched her go, chest tight. Then I turned back to Makeh. Before she could say another word, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her.

I laughed softly. "I’ve wanted to do that," I admitted.

She chuckled under her breath but returned the embrace briefly. I noted she smelt of cinnamon.

When we pulled apart, I searched her face. "What did you mean about Laura not needing to worry about corroboration?" I asked.

Makeh smiled. She clapped her hands, and the door to the center room swung open.

Six figures entered, making my confusion deepen. Quafars. These would corroborate my story? Most people didn’t even know they existed!

Makeh tilted her head. "Watch."

Three of them winked at me.

I blinked back, bemused despite myself.

Then smoke rippled around them. Their forms blurred, and I watched them shift... reshape. And in the space of a heartbeat, they transformed—becoming Peter, Laura, and Diana.

My jaw dropped. I turned slowly toward Makeh, who watched my reaction with amused satisfaction.

"Since all hands are full," she said lightly, "I decided to lend a hand. The goddess wouldn’t let me partake directly in the war."

Gratitude was hot in my chest. "Thank you!"

"What about the other three?" I asked, eyes flicking to the remaining quafars.

They moved forward, and transformed too. But their new forms were nothing like the others.

They looked like sentinels—ancient warriors carved from history. White attire flowed over their frames. Golden bracelets circled their arms. Spears gleamed in their hands. And the mark of the goddess shone on their foreheads.

The same mark that glowed on mine.

"My personal touch," Makeh said when she saw my expression.

She smiled again. "It will help the people believe you."

I was so happy, so grateful I would have kissed her all over!

Then she paused. Looked me over slowly. Thoroughly. Critically.

"Now," she said, voice shifting into something more resolute, "get rid of the wig and the magic you used to cover yourself up."

Her gaze held mine. "Time to look like your real self."