The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

Morgana’s pulse raced. There was something about the way he spoke...calm, patient, but utterly relentless, that made her feel like every word she said was being weighed and measured.

”My mother is ill,” she said quietly. ”I needed the money for her medicine.”

He studied her for a long moment.

”I see,” he said finally. ”And is it working? The medicine?”

”I haven’t sent any money home yet, my lord.”

”But you will.”

”Yes.”

He nodded slowly, as if this confirmed something he’d already suspected. Then he turned slightly, his gaze drifting toward the garden around them.

”Do you know what these gardens are for?” he asked.

Morgana blinked at the sudden change of subject. ”No, my lord.”

”They were built two centuries ago. A gift from the first queen to her husband.” He gestured toward the carefully tended flower beds, the winding paths, the ancient oak trees. ”She wanted a place where he could think. Away from the court, the politics, the noise. Somewhere quiet.”

Morgana said nothing, unsure where he was going with this.

”She died not long after,” he continued, his voice soft. ”And the king never came here again. He couldn’t bear it. So the gardens fell into disrepair. It wasn’t until decades later that someone decided to restore them.” He glanced back at her. ”Do you know why?”

”No, my lord.”

”Because even beautiful things need to be used to survive. If you let them sit untouched, they wither. They die.”

Morgana frowned slightly, trying to understand what he was telling her.

He seemed to sense her confusion, because his mouth curved again, that same almost-smile.

”I’m saying,” he said quietly, ”that you shouldn’t be afraid to exist here, Morgana. Even if you don’t think you belong.”

Her throat tightened.

”I... thank you, my lord.”

He inclined his head slightly, then turned as if to leave.

But he paused.

”You said you couldn’t sleep,” he said, not looking at her. ”Why?”

Morgana hesitated. ”I was... overwhelmed, my lord. Today was difficult.”

”The banquet.”

Her stomach dropped. ”Yes, my lord.”

”And why was it difficult?”

She couldn’t answer that. Couldn’t tell him about Draeven’s burning gaze, about the noble daughter who had noticed, about the suffocating weight of being seen when all she wanted was to disappear.

”It was my first time serving, my lord,” she said instead. ”I was nervous.”

He turned back to face her, his dark eyes sharp and knowing.

”You’re afraid,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

Morgana opened her mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come.

He stepped closer....close enough that she could see the details of his face now, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes seemed to see everything.

”You’re right to be,” he said softly. ”This place...” He glanced back toward the palace, and for a moment, something flickered in his expression. Something dark. ”This place is more dangerous than you think.”

Morgana’s pulse quickened. ”My lord?”

”Be careful, Morgana.” His voice was low, almost gentle. ”Keep your head down. Trust no one. And whatever you do...” He paused, his gaze locking onto hers. ”Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

She swallowed hard. ”I won’t, my lord.”

”Good.”

He stepped back, tucking the book under his arm.

”Go back to your quarters,” he said. ”Before someone else finds you out here.”

”Yes, my lord.”

She turned to leave, her heart still racing.

But before she’d taken more than a few steps, his voice stopped her.

”Morgana.”

She turned back.

He was watching her with those dark, unreadable eyes.

”If you ever need somewhere quiet,” he said, gesturing toward the garden around them, ”you can come here. No one uses these gardens anymore. You’ll be safe.”

Morgana blinked, surprised. ”Thank you, my lord.”

He nodded once.

Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows between the hedges.

Morgana stood frozen for a long moment, her mind racing.

Who was he?

He wasn’t a guard. He wasn’t dressed like a noble. But the way he spoke, the way he carried himself, there was authority there. Knowledge. Power.

And he’d been kind to her.

In this place full of cruelty and danger, someone had been kind.

She didn’t know what to do with that.

Finally, she turned and hurried back toward the servants’ quarters, her footsteps quick and quiet on the gravel path.

As she slipped back through the corridors, back into the dormitory where Rowan was waiting with wide, worried eyes, one thought echoed in her mind.

This place is more dangerous than you think.

She was beginning to understand.

But she still had no idea just how dangerous.

Or that the man who had warned her, the stranger in the garden with the dark eyes and the quiet voice, was one of the very people she should fear most.

***

*The Next Morning*

Morgana woke to the sound of the bell, just like every other morning.

But this time, when she opened her eyes, dread sat heavy in her stomach.

She lay still for a moment, staring at the dim ceiling of the dormitory, listening to the other girls stir around her.

Keep your head down. Don’t draw attention.

The stranger’s words from last night echoed in her mind.

She’d tried. Gods, she’d tried.

But it hadn’t mattered.

The king had stared at her anyway. And someone had noticed.

Beside her, Rowan sat up, rubbing her eyes. ”You came back late,” she whispered.

”I know.”

”Where did you go?”

”The gardens.” Morgana swung her legs over the side of the cot and reached for her dress. ”I needed air.”

”And?”

”And nothing. I’m fine.”

Rowan gave her a look that said she didn’t believe her, but she didn’t push.

They dressed quickly and joined the stream of girls heading downstairs for their morning assignments.

Mistress Calla was waiting in the lower hall, as always.

She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her expression as severe as carved stone. When the girls had assembled, she began calling out assignments in that brisk, no-nonsense tone that left no room for argument.