The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

”Well, I’ll be damned.”

Morgana spun around.

An older man stood a few feet away, leaning against the stable wall. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with silver hair and a weathered face lined with years of hard work. His eyes were sharp, but not unkind.

”How long have you been standing there?” Morgana asked, her heart racing.

”Long enough.” The man pushed off the wall and crossed to the stall, studying the stallion. ”Shadowmere hasn’t let anyone touch him in weeks. Damn near killed the last boy who tried.”

Morgana pulled her hand back. ”I didn’t....I just....”

”You’ve got a way with them,” the man said, his tone thoughtful. ”The beasts. They feel something in you.”

Her stomach twisted. ”I don’t know what you mean.”

”Don’t you?” He looked at her, his gaze piercing. ”I’ve been working with animals my whole life, girl. Horses. Hounds. Even a few of the lesser mystical creatures the nobles keep. And I’ve never seen one calm that fast. Not without magic.”

Morgana’s blood turned to ice. ”I’m not...I don’t have.....”

”Relax.” The man held up a hand. ”I’m not accusing you of anything. Just making an observation.”

He extended his hand. ”Name’s Garrick. Head stable master.”

Morgana hesitated, then shook his hand. ”Morgana.”

”I know who you are.” Garrick released her hand and crossed his arms. ”You’re the girl from the palace. The one they’re all whispering about.”

Her face burned. ”I didn’t do what they’re saying.”

”I didn’t ask.” Garrick’s expression was neutral. ”What I care about is whether you can work. And from what I just saw, I’d say you can.”

Morgana blinked. ”You’re not... angry?”

”Why would I be angry? You calmed a horse that’s been a menace for weeks. That’s useful.” He gestured toward the other stalls. ”The rest of them could use your touch too. Think you can handle it?”

She nodded slowly. ”Yes, sir.”

”Good.” Garrick turned to leave, then paused. ”And Morgana?”

”Yes, sir?”

”Whatever they’re saying about you up at the palace....ignore it. People talk. It’s what they do. But down here, all that matters is the work.” He gave her a small, gruff smile. ”You do the work, you’ll be fine.”

Relief flooded through her. ”Thank you.”

Garrick nodded and walked away.

Morgana turned back to Shadowmere, her chest tight with something that felt almost like hope.

Maybe, just maybe the stables wouldn’t be so bad after all.

***

The days passed in a blur of work.

Mucking stalls. Grooming horses. Hauling feed. Mending saddles.

It was hard, exhausting labor.

But it was also... peaceful.

No nobles. No whispers. No Isolde.

Just the horses and the quiet and the rhythm of work.

And Garrick.

He was gruff and no-nonsense, but he was also fair. He gave her the easier tasks when her hands were too blistered to grip a pitchfork. He let her take longer breaks when she was too exhausted to stand.

He didn’t ask questions.

And he didn’t judge.

More than that, he seemed to understand her in a way no one else did.

”You’ve got the gift,” he said one afternoon, watching her calm a skittish mare. ”Not many people do.”

”The gift?” Morgana asked.

”The way with beasts.” Garrick leaned against the stall door. ”Some people are born with it. They can sense what an animal needs. Feel what it’s feeling. It’s rare. Precious.”

Morgana looked down at her hands. ”I’ve always liked animals.”

”It’s more than that.” Garrick’s gaze was thoughtful. ”The lesser mystical creatures, the messenger hawks, the guard hounds, even the ember foxes the nobles keep as pets....they’re drawn to you. I’ve seen it.”

Her pulse quickened. ”What do you mean?”

”I mean they calm around you. Like you’re speaking a language they understand.” He paused. ”It’s the same with the horses. They trust you. And trust like that... it’s not something you can fake.”

Morgana didn’t know what to say.

Garrick studied her for a long moment, then nodded. ”You’re good at this, girl. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

***

It was nearly a week later when Garrick said it.

They were finishing up for the evening, putting away the grooming tools, when he glanced toward the far end of the stable yard.

”You ever been to the far tower?” he asked.

Morgana looked up. ”No, sir. Why?”

”That’s where they keep the dragons.”

Her breath caught. ”The kings’ dragons?”

”Aye.” Garrick’s expression darkened. ”Three of them. One for each king. Beautiful creatures. Deadly, too.”

Morgana’s pulse quickened. ”I thought dragons were... I don’t know. I thought the kings were the dragons.”

”They are. In a sense.” Garrick leaned against the workbench. ”The kings can shift into dragon form. But they also keep bonded dragons....ancient beasts, older than the kingdom itself. They’re... extensions of the kings, in a way. Reflections of their power.”

”And they’re kept in the tower?”

”Chained. Locked away.” Garrick’s jaw tightened. ”They’ve been restless lately. Violent. Killed three handlers this month alone.”

Morgana’s stomach twisted. ”Why?”

”No one knows. The kings can’t control them the way they used to. And the beasts are... angry. Like something’s set them off.” He looked at her. ”No one’s allowed near them anymore. Too dangerous.”

Morgana nodded, her mind racing.

The dragons are restless.

Violent.

Angry.

Why?

Garrick straightened. ”Just thought you should know. In case you ever hear roaring from that direction. It’s not something to investigate.”

”Yes, sir.”

He gave her a nod and walked away.

***

Morgana couldn’t sleep.

She lay in her cot in the small room above the stables, Garrick had given her a private space, away from the other stable hands, and stared at the ceiling.

The kings’ dragons are kept in the far tower.

They’ve been restless. Violent.

Killed three handlers this month.

The words echoed in her mind, refusing to let her rest.

Why were they restless?

What had set them off?

And why.....why did she feel this pull toward them?

This strange, inexplicable need to see them.

She sat up, her heart pounding.

Don’t.

It’s dangerous.

You’ll get caught.

But even as the warnings screamed in her mind, she was already reaching for her cloak.