The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

The whispers started the next morning.

Morgana noticed it immediately, the way conversations stopped when she entered a room. The way eyes followed her as she walked through the corridors. The way other servants stepped aside, creating distance.

At first, she thought she was imagining it.

But by midday, she knew she wasn’t.

She was carrying a basket of linens through the main servants’ corridor when she heard it.

Two girls....laundry maids, younger than her, standing near the water pump, their voices low but not low enough.

”.....heard she’s been sneaking into their chambers at night....”

”All three of them?”

”That’s what Lady Isolde said. Said she saw her coming out of King Draeven’s rooms after midnight.”

Morgana’s steps faltered.

”That’s disgusting. She’s a servant.”

”Exactly. Trying to seduce her way into power. As if the kings would ever...”

”Apparently they’re interested. Why else would they keep summoning her?”

”Because she’s throwing herself at them, obviously.”

Morgana’s hands tightened on the basket.

She wanted to turn around, to confront them, to tell them they were wrong.....

But she couldn’t.

Because they weren’t entirely wrong.

She had been summoned to Draeven’s chambers. Twice.

She had been in Kaelen’s rooms.

And even though she hadn’t gone willingly to the second, even though she’d been ordered....

How could she explain that without making it sound worse?

She kept walking, her face burning, and pretended she hadn’t heard.

By afternoon, the whispers had spread.

Everywhere Morgana went, she felt eyes on her. Judgmental. Disgusted. Curious.

The other servants avoided her.

When she sat down for the midday meal, the girls on either side of her stood and moved to another table.

Rowan stayed.

”Ignore them,” Rowan said quietly, her jaw tight. ”They’re idiots.”

”They’re not wrong,” Morgana whispered.

”Yes, they are.” Rowan’s voice was fierce. ”You didn’t do anything wrong. You were summoned. You had no choice.”

”They don’t see it that way.”

”Then they’re blind.”

Morgana pushed her food around her plate, her appetite gone.

Across the hall, she caught sight of a group of girls whispering and staring.

One of them...a sharp-faced blonde named Petra, caught her eye and smirked.

Morgana looked away.

The tea incident happened during the evening meal.

The noble daughters were dining in the great hall, and Morgana had been assigned to serve alongside several other maids.

She kept her head down, moving between the tables with a tray of goblets, refilling wine and water as quietly as possible.

She was near the center of the hall when she passed the table where Lady Isolde sat.

Isolde was surrounded by other daughters...beautiful, elegant, dripping with jewels. They were laughing about something, their voices bright and cruel.

Morgana tried to move past without being noticed.

But as she walked by, one of the girls....a dark-haired woman in emerald green, shifted suddenly.

Her elbow knocked into Morgana’s tray.

The tray tilted.

And a full pot of steaming tea spilled directly onto Morgana’s chest.

Morgana gasped, stumbling back as the scalding liquid soaked through her dress.

Pain flared across her skin, sharp and burning.

The hall fell silent.

Every eye turned toward her.

”Oh!” the dark-haired woman said, her hand flying to her mouth. ”I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

Her tone was apologetic.

Her eyes were not.

Morgana pressed a hand to her chest, biting back a cry. The fabric of her dress clung to her skin, hot and wet, and the pain was almost blinding.

”Are you all right?” another girl asked, her voice dripping with false concern.

Morgana forced herself to nod. ”I’m fine.”

”You should be more careful,” Isolde said, her voice cool and clear. ”Walking so close to the tables. You could have spilled on one of us.”

A few of the girls laughed.

Morgana’s face burned, not from the tea, but from shame.

”I’m sorry, my lady,” she said, her voice barely steady.

She turned to leave, desperate to escape, to hide, to....

”Wait.”

Isolde’s voice cut through the hall like a blade.

Morgana stopped.

”Come here,” Isolde said.

Morgana’s stomach twisted.

Slowly, she turned back.

Isolde was watching her with cold, calculating eyes. ”I said, come here.”

Morgana crossed to the table, her heart hammering.

Isolde leaned back in her chair, her expression pleasant. ”You’ve been quite busy lately, haven’t you?”

Morgana didn’t answer.

”Servants talk,” Isolde continued, her voice light. ”And I’ve been hearing the most interesting things about you.”

The other girls at the table leaned in, their eyes gleaming.

”What kind of things, my lady?” one of them asked.

Isolde’s smile widened. ”Apparently, our dear Morgana has been spending a great deal of time in places she doesn’t belong.”

Morgana’s chest tightened.

”What do you mean?” another girl asked, her tone eager.

”I mean,” Isolde said, her gaze never leaving Morgana’s face, ”that she’s been sneaking into the kings’ chambers. At night.”

Gasps rippled through the table.

”That’s not true,” Morgana said, her voice shaking.

”Isn’t it?” Isolde’s eyebrow rose. ”You were seen leaving King Draeven’s rooms. Multiple times.”

”I was summoned....”

”Oh, I’m sure you were.” Isolde’s smile was sharp. ”But summoned for what, I wonder? Cleaning? Or something else entirely?”

The girls laughed.

Morgana’s hands clenched into fists. ”I didn’t do anything wrong.”

”Of course you didn’t.” Isolde’s tone was mocking. ”You’re just a poor, innocent little servant who happened to catch the kings’ attention. How convenient.”

”I didn’t ask for their attention.”

”Didn’t you?” Isolde leaned forward. ”You’re telling me you didn’t try to seduce them? That you didn’t throw yourself at them the moment you had the chance?”

”No!”

”Then why,” Isolde said, her voice dropping to something colder, sharper, ”do they keep summoning you?”

Morgana’s throat closed.

She didn’t have an answer.

Not one that wouldn’t make things worse.

Isolde smiled, triumph clear in her eyes. ”That’s what I thought.”

She turned to the other girls. ”Can you imagine? A scheming little peasant, trying to seduce her way into power. It’s almost impressive.”