The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 363: Night Talks

SAGE

"We didn’t even do much there," Isla complained the second the driver dropped us off in front of the house.

Her heels clicked against the stone path as she stomped toward the porch, her voice still full of that frustrated whine she’d carried all night. "We didn’t even enjoy the feast I saw there... not really."

I rolled my eyes, already reaching for the keys. "I wasn’t there to feast," I said, unlocking the door. "I was there to put the second stage of the plan in motion."

That shut her up for all of three seconds. Then came the inevitable frown. "And what exactly is obtainable in that, Sage?" she asked, brushing past me into the dimly lit sitting room.

"You get to be some high-ranking official—so what? To what end? You should’ve just asked for the throne and saved us all the trouble."

I turned to her, one brow raised, a small, amused smile tugging at my lips. "And what use would the throne be to me?"

"To rule maybe?" Isla shot back, collapsing onto the velvet sofa with a dramatic groan. "What better revenge is there?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I don’t want to rule, Isla," I said lightly, moving to drop my cloak over the back of a chair. "I want to burn it down."

She stared at me for a heartbeat—then burst out laughing. "Gods, Sage, you really need to stop saying things like that so casually. One day someone’s going to think you mean it."

"I do mean it."

She laughed harder, clearly thinking I was joking, her amusement echoing softly through the quiet room. I didn’t bother correcting her. Let her think I was jesting. It was safer that way.

With a groan, Isla tugged at the hem of her gown. "What a waste of dress-up," she muttered, running her hand over the glittering fabric.

I scoffed and pointed toward the door. "You can still make it worth it," I teased. "Go meet your fake boyfriend."

Her head snapped up. "Really?"

"Yes, really. You’ve been sulking all night because you didn’t get to flirt with him properly. So go. Be free."

She grinned, her weariness instantly forgotten. "You’re impossible," she said, already halfway to the door. "Don’t wait up."

"I wasn’t planning to."

By the time the door shut behind her, the house fell silent again, save for the soft hum of the enchanted lamps. I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty room, then exhaled slowly.

If Isla had truly fallen for Ben—Adam’s gamma—then that was both a relief and a complication. A relief, because at least someone was happy in this godforsaken place. A complication, because it meant attachments were forming—and attachments made leaving harder.

And leave we would.

Once the third stage of the plan commenced in a week, everything would unravel beautifully. The revenge would be complete, and I could finally walk away. I’d promised myself that. This place, with its crowns and lies and bloodstained smiles, would be nothing more than ash in my memory.

Maybe then I’d finally take that vacation Raul had been pestering me about. The thought of his grin—warm, mischievous, alive—brought a small smile to my lips. The two of us, somewhere far from here, with no more scheming, no more pretending. Just air and sunlight and peace.

I was still smiling when the light in the room flickered once—then twice. A sharp flash followed, so quick I barely had time to blink.

And there she was.

The Queen.

I blinked, genuinely startled. How in the nine hells had she even known I was back already? That I’d left the banquet early?

"Your Majesty," I greeted, masking my surprise with a shallow bow. "You startled me."

Her lips curved faintly. "Forgive me, Sage. Old habits. I wanted to see you the moment I sensed your magic return here."

She placed a rune here? Of course.

She stepped further into the sitting room, her gown shimmering faintly in the lamplight. "How was the banquet?" she asked casually, though her eyes—sharp and knowing as ever—were already searching my face for more than words.

I straightened, meeting her gaze evenly. "Productive," I said. "I made my request. It’s been agreed upon."

Her smile deepened, smug and victorious. "Well done. I knew they’d bend. They always do, when faced with real power."

I hummed in agreement, then asked about the patrols Peter had talked about on my last visit home.

"Where did you hear that from?"

I tilted my head slightly. "Just sensed some magic there..." Not wanting to put Peter in trouble.

The Queen’s brows lifted delicately. "I’ve sent no one there."

That made me pause. "You haven’t?"

"Certainly not," she said, her tone clipped. "And I would know if any of my generals acted without permission."

I frowned. Peter wouldn’t have lied to me. He had no reason to. Which meant either someone was operating without the Queen’s knowledge—or she was lying to me. Neither option sat well.

"I must have been mistaken then," I said smoothly, though my mind was already turning.

The Queen smiled again, clearly satisfied to have the conversation back in her control. She prattled on for a few minutes about Raul’s upcoming duties, Rachel’s current obsession, the state of the southern communities.

I nodded where appropriate, smiled when needed, and offered nothing of substance.

At last, she sighed. "I’ll leave you to rest. You’ve done well tonight, Sage. Very well."

"Thank you."

She vanished in a shimmer of light, the air humming faintly in her wake.

When she was gone, I exhaled, long and slow, then went to my room. The gown came off in a whisper of silk, replaced by a loose nightdress. My hair was still heavy with the scent of jasmine from the canopy, and for a moment, I considered washing it out. But exhaustion won.

I climbed into bed, closing my eyes—and that’s when I felt it.

A shift.

A pressure in the air that didn’t belong.

I sat up slowly, scanning the room. A darkness had gathered in the far corner, thick and sentient, swallowing the moonlight that spilled in through the curtains. My magic stirred instantly, sparking at my fingertips.

And then the shadow moved.

"Don’t," a familiar voice drawled.

My heart stilled. Darius.

He stepped out from the darkness as if it had been made just for him— still dressed in black, his expression unreadable, eyes catching the faint lamplight.

He left the tent already?

"What are you doing here?" I asked, though I already had a dozen worse guesses. "Come to kill me?"

His lips twitched, almost in amusement. "If I wanted you dead, Sage, you wouldn’t have seen me coming."

I held his gaze, still wary. "Then why are you here?"

He walked closer, unhurried, and sat down on the edge of my bed as if he owned the place. "To talk," he said simply. "And to ask a few questions."

I folded my arms, arching a brow. "You could’ve done that earlier. At the banquet. Preferably when we weren’t alone in my bedroom."

He smirked. "You don’t have to worry about that. As I said before, you are not my lifemate."

I hated that he had a point. "Fine," I said. "Talk. Start with who you really are. You’ve been hiding something."

His smirk faded, replaced by a thoughtful stillness. For a moment, the silence between us was heavy enough to fill the room. Then he said quietly, "There’s a prophecy."

My stomach tightened. What now? "A prophecy?"