The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

Morgana moved on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else.

She climbed the stairs, each step taking her closer to something she didn’t understand, couldn’t have predicted, couldn’t defend against.

When she reached the top, Mistress Calla was standing with the necklace in her hand, turning it slowly, studying it in the light.

”Is this yours?” Calla asked, not looking up.

Morgana stared at the necklace.

She had never seen it before in her life.

”No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ”No, I’ve never....that’s not mine.”

”It was found in your trunk,” Calla said flatly. ”Hidden beneath your clothing.”

”Someone put it there,” Morgana said, and her voice was rising now, edged with panic. ”I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I didn’t put it there. I’ve never seen this necklace before!”

Calla’s eyes finally moved to meet hers, and in those eyes was nothing but cold certainty.

”This is Lady Margot’s necklace,” Calla said. ”It was reported stolen three days ago. It has now been found in your possession. That is theft.”

”No!” Morgana’s voice came out too loud, desperate. ”No, I didn’t steal it! I wouldn’t! I....”

”Garrick,” Calla said, her voice cutting through Morgana’s protest like a blade, ”is there anything you wish to tell me about this discovery?”

Garrick’s face was ashen.

”Mistress, I don’t understand how that got there,” he said. ”I swear to you, Morgana is not a thief. She’s trustworthy. She....”

”She has been living in unauthorized quarters provided by you,” Calla interrupted. ”She has been given special treatment and privileges. And now stolen goods have been found in her possession. I am beginning to wonder if you were party to this theft, Master Garrick.”

”No!” Garrick’s voice cracked. ”That’s not....I would never....”

”The guards will need to question you further,” Calla said coldly. ”But for now, your role here is finished.”

She turned to one of the guards.

”Take her to the holding cells,” she said, indicating Morgana. ”She is under arrest for theft.”

”You can’t....” Morgana began, but the guard was already moving toward her.

”Wait,” Garrick said, stepping forward. ”You need to listen to me. Something is wrong here. Someone has done this deliberately. Someone has set this up....”

”That is for the council to determine,” Calla said. ”Not for me to speculate. All I know is that stolen property has been found in this girl’s possession. That is sufficient for arrest.”

The guard reached for Morgana’s arm.

She jerked away instinctively, and immediately two more guards were there, restraining her.

”Please,” she said, looking directly at Calla. ”Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t steal this. I don’t know how it got there.”

Calla’s expression didn’t shift.

”Take her,” she said.

The guards began to move Morgana toward the stairs.

”No!” Garrick lunged forward, his weathered face twisted in anguish. ”This is wrong! This is a setup! I won’t allow....”

A guard stepped in front of him, blocking his path with his body and the clear threat of violence.

Calla’s voice was ice. ”One more step, Master Garrick, and you will be arrested as well. Remain where you are and answer questions.”

Garrick went rigid, frozen between his desire to help Morgana and the knowledge that any further resistance would only make things worse.

Morgana was led down the stairs.

As she descended, she could hear the sounds of the stables.....the horses snorting nervously, the creak of leather, the soft sounds of hooves shifting.

She could hear Garrick’s ragged breathing above her.

She could hear the guards’ footsteps, measured and professional, escorting her toward whatever came next.

And she could hear the realization crystallizing in her mind with absolute certainty: someone had done this. Someone had deliberately set this trap, and she had walked directly into it.

But who? And why?

***

As Morgana was being led from the stables toward the palace proper, the horses scattered and nervous, the afternoon light slanting through the wooden beams and creating strange shadows, a figure emerged from the back entrance to the stables.

Lady Isolde.

She stood framed in the doorway, her pale blue gown immaculate, her golden hair arranged perfectly, her expression one of shock and concern.

Behind her came three other figures.

Lady Vivienne....dark-haired, sharp-featured, her expression carefully arranged to show betrayal and dismay.

Lady Seraphine....copper-haired, elegant, her face a mask of calculated sympathy.

Lady Celeste....young, blonde, her eyes red-rimmed as if she had been crying.

The guards paused as Isolde stepped forward, her voice carrying across the stable yard.

”Oh, Morgana,” she said, her tone dripping with false sympathy. ”I never wanted to believe it was true, but seeing this... seeing the necklace in your possession... I suppose it must be real.”

Morgana felt her blood run cold.

She understood in that moment.

Not just that she had been trapped, but by whom.

Isolde’s pale eyes met hers, and in them was something that might have been satisfaction, or might have been rage, or might have been both.

Vivienne stepped forward, her voice sharp and accusatory.

”I told the council I saw you acting suspiciously,” she said. ”I told them I saw you lurking near Lady Margot’s chambers. But they didn’t believe me. Not until now. Not until the evidence was right in front of them.”

Seraphine’s voice was softer, but no less damaging.

”I wanted to believe you were innocent,” she said, and her tone suggested genuine regret. ”I truly did. But how else could the necklace have gotten there? How can you explain this?”

Celeste said nothing.

She simply stood there, tears streaming down her face, her expression twisted with guilt and conflict.

And Morgana understood: these four young women had conspired against her. Had deliberately planted evidence. Had orchestrated her arrest.

But why?

Because the kings looked at her instead of them.

Because she had caught their attention.

Because she was an obstacle to what they wanted.

And they had removed her with extreme level of accuracy.

Morgana opened her mouth to protest, to scream the truth, but the guards were already moving her forward, already pulling her away from the stables.

Isolde watched her go, and that cold satisfaction never left her face.