The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

”Then where is she?” The first voice was frustrated now. ”We’ve brought in daughters from every noble house in the realm. Princesses from neighboring kingdoms. Women of every bloodline, every background. And none of them have been compatible.”

”Because she isn’t noble,” the older voice said quietly.

Silence.

”What?”

”The prophecy was specific. Born of fire and hidden in shadow. Neither crown nor title shall mark her, but the dragons will know her when she comes. She isn’t a princess, Cedric. She’s... something else.”

”Then how are we supposed to find her?”

”We don’t. The kings do. The prophecy says they’ll know her. That their blood will recognize hers.”

Another pause.

”And if they don’t find her?”

The older voice was grim. ”Then the line dies. The curse consumes them. And the kingdom falls.”

Morgana’s heart hammered against her ribs.

The Mother of Dragons.

A woman whose blood calls to theirs.

Born of fire.

Her hands trembled.

No.

It couldn’t be.

It couldn’t....

”Do the kings know?” the first voice asked.

”They know the prophecy. But they don’t believe it. Draeven thinks it’s a fairy tale. Kaelen thinks it’s irrelevant. And Thorne...” The older voice sighed. ”Thorne believes, but he won’t speak of it.”

”Then what do we do?”

”We continue the selection. We bring in more women. We hope that one of them...”

A floorboard creaked.

Morgana’s eyes widened.

She hadn’t moved.

She’d been standing perfectly still.

But someone else...

Footsteps.

Behind her.

She spun around.

A guard stood at the end of the corridor, his eyes narrowed.

”You,” he said sharply. ”What are you doing here?”

Morgana’s blood turned to ice.

”I...I was delivering linens, sir,” she stammered, gesturing toward the closet. ”I was just....”

The guard’s gaze flicked to the door she’d been standing beside. The meeting chamber.

His expression darkened.

”Were you listening?”

”No, sir, I....”

”Don’t lie to me, girl.” He started toward her, his hand moving to the sword at his belt. ”How long have you been standing there?”

Morgana’s pulse spiked.

Run.

She didn’t think.

She just moved.

She dropped the linens and bolted.

”Hey!”

The guard’s shout echoed behind her, but she didn’t stop.

She ran down the corridor, her heart hammering, her breath coming in desperate gasps.

Footsteps pounded behind her.

”Stop! In the name of the king, stop!”

Morgana didn’t stop.

She turned a corner, then another, her mind racing.

The laundry. Get back to the laundry. Lose him in the lower levels.

She flew down a narrow staircase, nearly tripping over her skirts, and burst into a crowded servant’s corridor.

People shouted as she shoved past them, but she didn’t slow.

Behind her, the guard was still coming.

She turned another corner, ducked through a doorway, and found herself in a storage room.

She pressed herself against the wall, her chest heaving, and waited.

Footsteps thundered past.

Then faded.

Morgana stood there for a long moment, her entire body shaking.

He saw me.

He knows I was listening.

I’m in danger.

She pressed her hands to her face, trying to breathe, trying to think.

The Mother of Dragons.

Born of fire.

A woman whose blood calls to theirs.

The words echoed in her mind, strange and terrifying and impossible to grasp.

She didn’t understand what it meant.

Didn’t understand why the kings were cursed, or what this prophecy had to do with the selection, or why the ministers sounded so desperate.

All she knew was that she’d heard something she shouldn’t have.

And someone had seen her.

She had to get out of here.

Had to disappear.

Had to....

Atheris.

The thought came suddenly, desperately.

She needed to see him. Needed his guidance. Needed someone who understood the danger she was in.

Tonight.

She would go tonight.

A woman whose blood calls to theirs.

It couldn’t be her.

It couldn’t.

But deep down, buried beneath the fear and the panic, something whispered.

What if it is?

***

Morgana waited until the palace fell silent.

She lay in her cot, listening to the breathing of the other girls around her, counting the minutes until she was sure everyone was asleep.

Rowan had tried to talk to her earlier, had asked her what was wrong, why she looked so pale, why her hands were shaking, but Morgana had brushed her off.

She couldn’t tell her.

Couldn’t tell anyone.

When the dormitory was finally quiet, Morgana slipped out of bed and dressed in the dark. She pulled on her cloak, the one that smelled of earth and forest, and moved toward the door.

She was almost there when a voice stopped her.

”Morgana.”

She froze.

Rowan was sitting up in her cot, her eyes wide in the darkness.

”Where are you going?” she whispered.

”I just need air,” Morgana said quietly.

”You’ve been sneaking out every few nights.” Rowan’s voice was tight with worry. ”Where do you go?”

”Rowan...”

”Are you in trouble?”

Morgana’s throat closed.

Yes. More than you know.

”I’m fine,” she lied. ”I just... I can’t sleep. I need to walk.”

Rowan stared at her for a long moment, her expression torn.

Then she sighed. ”Be careful.”

”I will.”

”I mean it, Morgana. If something happens to you...”

”Nothing’s going to happen.” Morgana forced a smile. ”I’ll be back before dawn. I promise.”

Rowan didn’t look convinced, but she lay back down.

Morgana slipped out of the dormitory and into the darkness.

The palace was a maze of shadows at night.

Morgana moved through the corridors quickly, keeping to the walls, avoiding the torchlight. She knew the night watch’s routes by now, knew which hallways to avoid, which staircases were safe.

She made it out of the palace without being seen.

The night air hit her like a blessing, cold and clean and free. She pulled her cloak tighter and ran.

Through the courtyard. Past the gates. Into the forest.

The trees closed around her like old friends, and she didn’t slow until the palace was far behind her.

Then she climbed.

Up the mountain. Through the dark. Toward the cave.

Her lungs burned. Her legs ached. But she didn’t stop.