The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

”We allow him to continue,” Draeven confirmed. ”Because the alternative is that he breaks, and when he breaks, the entire realm suffers for it.”

Draeven returned to his desk, and for a moment, he simply sat there in silence, the weight of his decisions visible on his face.

”The noble daughters are a distraction,” he said finally. ”Some of them are willing distractions for Kaelen. That serves a purpose. It keeps his attention directed outward. It gives him a way to burn off the energy that’s building up inside him from the curse.”

He looked at Thorne with an expression that was both pragmatic and troubled.

”We facilitate it,” he said. ”We make sure Kaelen has access to willing companions. We encourage the daughters to seek his attention if they’re inclined to do so. It keeps him stable, and it keeps the palace functioning.”

Thorne nodded slowly, understanding the calculation his brother was making. It was not ideal, but in a kingdom ruled by cursed men, ideal was a luxury they could not afford.

”And Isolde’s scheming?” Thorne asked.

”We watch it,” Draeven said. ”Your Shadows keep us informed. We monitor what she’s planning. And when the time comes...if it comes to that, we deal with it. But for now, we use everything at our disposal to maintain stability.”

It was the kind of pragmatism that came with the crown. The kind of difficult choices that separated ruling from governance.

”The noble daughters leave eventually,” Draeven continued. ”They’ll go back to their families whether they’re chosen or not. Isolde will return to House Greythorne. And we’ll be left with the same problem we’ve always had...the curse and the prophecy.

Thorne looked at his brother...truly looked at him, and saw the toll that leadership was taking. Draeven was the eldest. The weight fell heaviest on his shoulders.

”You carry too much,” Thorne said quietly.

”We all do,” Draeven replied. ”But someone has to. And it might as well be me.”

***

Thorne stood and moved toward the door. He needed to leave before this conversation went any deeper, before it exposed vulnerabilities that neither of them could afford to show to the other.

But at the door, he stopped.

He paused with his hand on the frame, his back to his brother, his entire body tense with something unspoken.

Then, slowly, he turned to face Draeven.

”Have you summoned her these past few days?” Thorne asked.

The question hung in the air between them...loaded with meaning

Draeven looked up from his desk, his golden eyes meeting his brother’s dark ones.

”Who?” he asked, though the question was a formality. They both knew exactly who Thorne was speaking of.

”Don’t play games with me, brother,” Thorne said, and his voice carried an edge that suggested he was not in the mood for pretense. ”You know who I speak of.”

Draeven set down his pen slowly, deliberately, taking his time with the gesture as if he were buying himself a moment to consider his response.

”No,” he said finally. ”I have not summoned her these past few days.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice carried a note of something that might have been regret, or might have been resignation.

”But the guards at the stable bring me reports every day,” he continued. ”About her. About how she’s managing. About her work with the horses.”

He looked directly at his brother, and there was something vulnerable in his expression....something that spoke of concern and awareness and care that went beyond what simple kingship required.

”She is well, brother,” Draeven said, and the words seemed to matter to him in a way that surprised even himself. ”She is well, and we simply have to wait. We have to wait until Kaelen is stable again before we can know what to do about her. But for now, she is better off staying in the stables than the palace. Safer there. Away from the scheming of noble daughters and the politics of courts.”

Thorne stood in the doorway, listening to his brother’s words, understanding the calculation that was being made, the protection that was being offered in the only way it could be offered while maintaining the careful appearance of indifference that the palace required.

”The guards bring reports,” Thorne said quietly. ”Every day.”

”Every day,” Draeven confirmed. ”And every day, the report is the same. She is well. She is safe. She is working hard and causing no trouble and being exactly what we need her to be....unremarkable, invisible, protected by her very invisibility.”

Thorne nodded slowly.

He understood what his brother was really saying. That Morgana was being watched. That her wellbeing was being monitored. That despite the distance, despite the appearance of indifference, they were aware of her. They cared. They were protecting her in the only way they could while the rest of the palace remained unaware of her significance.

”Then I will return to my books,” Thorne said, his voice carefully neutral.

”Tell your Shadows to watch Isolde carefully,” Draeven said. ”I want to know everything she plans. Every scheme, every alliance, every conversation. I want nothing to surprise us.”

”Consider it done,” Thorne said.

He turned and opened the door, stepping into the corridor.

But before closing the door behind him, he paused for just a moment and looked back at his brother. And in that moment, without words, they shared an understanding...an acknowledgment that there was a girl in the stables who was being protected, who was being cared for, who mattered to them in ways that were complicated and dangerous and could not be expressed aloud within the walls of the palace.

Then Thorne closed the door, and the moment was gone.

***

Draeven sat alone in his office once more, the morning light still streaming through the high windows, the weight of kingship settling back onto his shoulders like a cloak he could never remove.

He looked back at the documents on his desk, picked up his pen, and returned to work.