The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

The grand ballroom was a vision of opulence that took the breath away.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, each one holding hundreds of candles whose light transformed the space into something almost ethereal. The light cascaded downward, pooling on marble floors polished to such a high shine they reflected the chandeliers like mirrors.

The walls were draped in crimson and gold silk, creating an impression of warmth and luxury. Towering flower displays, carefully arranged masterpieces of rose and lily and orchid, stood at intervals around the room, filling the air with a sweet, almost overwhelming scent.

The orchestra sat on a raised platform at one end, their instruments polished and ready. The musicians looked nervous. They understood the stakes too.

Along the edges of the ballroom, servants stood at attention....young men and women in crisp black and white livery, holding trays of wine and small delicacies, ready to serve at a moment’s notice.

And among those servants, trying to remain invisible, was Morgana.

She wore a plain black servant’s dress...modest, practical, designed to keep her in the background. Her hair was pulled back in a simple bun. Her face was pale, unmarked by the cosmetics that adorned the noble daughters. She looked, in every way, like someone meant to be unseen.

But even dressed as a servant, standing at the edge of a crowd of hundreds, there was something about her that seemed to shimmer. Something that caught the light in an unusual way.

Something that made people’s eyes linger on her, even as she tried to fade into the shadows.

She didn’t know why she’d been brought to the ball.

Mistress Calla had simply told her that morning: ”You’ll be serving at the grand ballroom tonight. Behavior must be impeccable. You are to remain invisible unless directly addressed.”

Morgana had asked no questions.

But as she stood along the wall of the ballroom, watching the nobility arrive in a cascade of color and jewelry and expensive fabrics, she felt a strange sense of wrongness.

Why am I here? she wondered. Servants who work in the stables don’t serve at formal balls. There are other servants for that. Why was I brought from the stables specifically?

She didn’t know.

She could only wait and serve and try not to be noticed.

The noble daughters entered the ballroom in a formal procession, each one carefully timed to make an entrance.

Lady Isolde led, her pale blue gown drawing every eye. She moved with the confident stride of someone who had already won the game.

Behind her came Vivienne, elegant in emerald. Then Seraphine, striking in burgundy. Then Celeste and the others, each one beautiful in her own way, each one hoping that tonight would be the night everything changed.

They were presented formally to the gathered nobility, their names called out by a herald, their titles announced, their lineages acknowledged.

It was a ritual as old as the kingdom itself.

And it was, fundamentally, a display.

These women were being presented as options....future wives, future mothers of heirs, future participants in the power structure of the realm.

It was beautiful and terrible in equal measure.

The noble daughters took their positions near the high table, where the kings would sit, where they would be able to observe the dancing and the festivities.

They were as nervous as hunted animals.

Morgana watched from her position along the wall, her hands steady as she held the wine tray, her expression blank.

But inside, she was trembling.

***

The music stopped.

The entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath.

Then the herald’s voice rang out, loud and formal, echoing through the space:

”Their Royal Majesties, the Dragon Kings: King Draeven of Fire, King Kaelen of Storm, and King Thorne of Shadow.”

The three of them entered together.

Draeven came first, his golden eyes burning like living flame, his presence commanding and fierce. Kaelen followed, his pale eyes cold as winter, his beauty sharp and dangerous. And Thorne came last, his dark gaze taking in everything, missing nothing, moving with the fluid grace of a predator.

They were magnificent.

Terrible.

Beautiful in a way that transcended conventional aesthetics.

The entire ballroom seemed to dim in their presence, as if their power was so overwhelming it swallowed the light itself.

Every woman in the room....noble and servant alike, felt her breath catch.

This was what it meant to be in the presence of dragons.

Not the cursed, restrained versions that ruled from their thrones and attended council meetings, but the RAW power beneath, barely contained, waiting for an excuse to break free.

The kings made their way to the high table, where the council members stood in formal greeting. Cedric nodded to each of them, a greeting that was respect mixed with careful calculation. Other council members offered formal bows.

The kings seated themselves.

And the music resumed.

Draeven’s golden gaze swept across the ballroom.

It was an automatic action, a king surveying his realm, checking for threats, acknowledging subjects. But it was also a search.

His eyes passed over the gathered nobility. Over the noble daughters standing in their formal positions. Over the servants lining the walls.

And then they stopped.

He saw her.

Standing at the edge of the ballroom, in shadows, holding a wine tray with trembling hands.

Morgana.

Even dressed as a servant, even trying to make herself invisible, he saw her.

And he felt it....that same pull, that same inexplicable attraction that had haunted him for weeks.

His hands clenched in his lap.

Beside him, Kaelen noticed. His cold eyes shifted to see what had captured his brother’s attention.

Kaelen’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his pale eyes...recognition, perhaps, or calculation.

And Thorne, quiet Thorne continued to observe the room with his usual careful attention. But his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

He too had seen her.

He too felt the pull.

***

The first dance was a formal presentation dance.

The noble daughters were introduced to the kings formally, one by one, each given a moment to dance with one of the monarchs. The other nobility watched, their expressions ranging from interested to calculating to resigned.

This was the realm’s way of determining suitability.