The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

The inspection of the stables proper was thorough but relatively straightforward.

Calla moved through each section with her team, examining saddles and bridles, checking the grain storage, looking through the equipment racks. The guards were efficient and professional, finding nothing of note. A few items were recorded....a knife that belonged to one of the stable hands, some coins left in the tack room that Garrick claimed were communal tips, but nothing that suggested any serious problem.

The horses became increasingly nervous as the inspection proceeded. They sensed the tension, the unusual activity, the violation of their familiar spaces. Several began to prance and snort, and Morgana found herself moving between them, speaking softly, trying to calm them as the inspection team moved around.

Calla’s eyes tracked her, her gaze remained on Morgana for a moment longer, assessing and calculating.

Then she turned back to her inspection.

But the unease Morgana felt only deepened.

***

The inspection of the main stables took perhaps thirty minutes. When it was complete, Calla stood in the center of the space, surveying what her team had found.

”Everything appears in order,” she said finally. ”However, I notice there are stairs leading to an upper level. What is up there?”

Garrick’s body went rigid.

”That is... a private storage area,” he said carefully. ”For equipment that is not in current use.”

”Then it should be inspected as part of this thorough review,” Calla said flatly. ”Lead the way.”

”Mistress Calla,” Garrick said, and now his voice carried a note of something almost desperate, ”that room is private staff quarters. A single servant uses it. There is nothing there but personal belongings....”

”Then there is nothing to hide,” Calla interrupted, her voice cold. ”Unless you are suggesting that one of your servants has reason to conceal something?”

The trap was perfect.

If Garrick refused, he would be seen as obstructing an official inspection....a serious offense. If he complied, he would be allowing them access to Morgana’s private space, which would make him complicit in whatever they found.

He had no choice.

”Of course,” he said, his voice hollow. ”This way.”

He moved toward the stairs, and Calla followed, her guards flanking her, the assistant and clerk bringing up the rear.

Morgana stood frozen, the realization beginning to crystallize in her mind that something was very wrong. This wasn’t a random inspection. This was directed. This was purposeful.

Someone had done something.

Someone had set a trap.

And she was about to walk directly into it.

***

The stairs to Morgana’s room were narrow and steep, wooden with a worn railing that had been smoothed by decades of use.

Garrick climbed them first, each step heavy with dread.

Behind him, Mistress Calla ascended with measured steps, her posture erect, her expression impassive.

Two guards followed her, their boots making deliberate sounds on each stair.

The assistant and clerk came last.

The climb seemed to take forever.

Morgana watched from below, her hands gripping the edge of the stall so tightly her knuckles went white.

At the top of the stairs, Garrick hesitated before the door to her room.

”It’s just a small space,” he said, as if by understating what lay beyond the door, he could somehow minimize what was about to happen. ”The girl needed a place to sleep. I thought it was better to give her private quarters than have her share the dormitory with the other hands.”

”You thought that was your decision to make?” Calla asked, her tone sharp. ”The allocation of palace space is not your purview, Master Garrick.”

”I understand, Mistress,” Garrick said quietly. ”But given the circumstances....”

”Open the door,” Calla commanded.

Garrick opened the door.

The room beyond was small, perhaps twelve feet by ten, with a single window that looked out over the fields beyond the palace. The cot was neatly made. A small trunk sat at its foot. A few items were arranged on a shelf....a comb, a cloth, a small vial of something that smelled faintly of honey and herbs.

It was a humble space. A servant’s space. There was nothing in it that suggested anything unusual or wrong.

But Calla’s eyes moved over it with the same clinical assessment she had brought to every other room.

”Check everything,” she said to the guards.

One of them immediately moved to the trunk and opened it.

Inside were Morgana’s few possessions: three shifts, worn but carefully maintained; a pair of stockings with one careful repair; a handkerchief that had been embroidered by someone with patient hands; a small book....a journal that Morgana had been keeping, filling it with observations about the horses and her own thoughts.

The guard pulled each item out and examined it.

Then his hand stopped.

He reached deeper into the trunk, beneath where the clothing lay, and withdrew something that gleamed in the afternoon light filtering through the window.

A necklace.

Gold. Delicate. Set with a single ruby the size of a thumbnail.

The guard held it up, and the gem caught the light and threw it back in a thousand fractured pieces.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Calla’s expression didn’t change. She had expected this. This was exactly what she had expected to find.

Garrick made a sound, something between a gasp and a cry of denial.

”That’s impossible,” he said, his voice shaking. ”She....I....that wasn’t....”

”Master Garrick,” Calla said coldly, ”I suggest you remain silent unless you wish to be charged as an accessory to theft.”

She turned to the guard holding the necklace.

”This is Lady Margot’s necklace, reported stolen three days ago. Is that correct?”

”Yes, Mistress,” the guard confirmed. ”I was present when Lady Margot reported it missing to the household.”

Calla nodded slowly.

She turned toward the stairs.

”Fetch the girl,” she commanded.

***

Morgana had not moved from her position by the stalls.

She stood rigidly, watching the stairs, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, her ears, her temples.

She knew. Even without seeing, without hearing what had been found, she knew.

She had been trapped.

A guard descended the stairs, a man she recognized as part of Calla’s inspection team.

He looked at her directly.

”You,” he said. ”Come with me.”