The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

Garrick watched from the stables as Morgana was led away.

He could see the chains being placed on her wrists. He could see her stumbling slightly as she was forced into movement. He could see her head turning back toward the stables one last time, toward him, and in her eyes was something that broke his heart.

It was not anger at him. It was not accusation.

It was simply fear. And confusion. And the desperate hope that he would somehow fix this, would somehow make it right.

He moved forward, compelled by instinct and love, but the guard blocked him immediately.

”You will remain where you are,” the guard said, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt.

”That girl is innocent,” Garrick said, his voice rough with desperation. ”I will testify to that. I will tell the council....”

Calla’s voice cut through his words like a whip.

”You will do nothing of the sort,” she said, her tone absolutely final. ”You will remain silent about this matter, or face charges of your own for obstructing an official investigation and providing shelter to a thief.”

Garrick felt something crack inside him.

He was powerless.

Despite everything he had done to protect Morgana, despite giving her the private room and the safety and the chance at something better than what the other servants had, he was powerless to help her now.

He watched as the guards led her away, as she disappeared into the palace, as the chance to defend her slipped through his fingers like sand.

And he understood with absolute clarity that what had happened here was not accidental.

It was deliberate. It was calculated. And it was designed to make sure that anyone who tried to help Morgana would be silenced by the threat of becoming guilty themselves.

Isolde turned to leave, satisfied, and as she passed near where Garrick stood, she allowed herself a small, cold smile.

Their eyes met for just an instant.

And in that instant, Garrick understood everything.

This had been about the kings’ attention, about control, about power.

And Morgana had become expendable the moment she became an obstacle to what these young women wanted.

***

The walk through the palace was a nightmare.

Morgana moved between guards, her wrists shackled, her mind reeling.

Around her, servants stopped their work and stared.

She could hear the whispers beginning, could see the pointing fingers, could feel the shift in how she was perceived.

Just moments ago, she had been invisible. A servant. Someone who barely registered in the minds of the palace inhabitants.

Now she was something else entirely.

Now she was a thief.

Now she was a criminal.

The stories were already spreading, she could feel it. By the time she reached the holding cells, everyone in the palace would know. The servants would whisper about it. The nobility would discuss it. The kings would hear about it.

And her reputation would be destroyed before she ever stood trial.

They descended stairs leading to the lower levels of the palace....the dungeons, the holding areas, the places where prisoners were kept.

The air grew colder as they descended.

The light grew dimmer.

The sounds of the palace faded behind them until there was only the echo of boots on stone and the soft chink of chains.

Finally, they reached a heavy wooden door bound with iron.

One of the guards opened it.

Inside was a row of cells, each with bars and a heavy lock.

They stopped at one of them.

”In,” the guard commanded.

Morgana stepped inside.

The cell was small. perhaps eight feet by ten. There was a narrow cot with a thin mattress. A bucket in the corner. Nothing else.

The guard removed her shackles and stepped back out of the cell.

The door swung shut.

The lock engaged with a heavy click that seemed to echo through the entire chamber.

And Morgana was alone.

She stood in the center of the cell, not quite believing what was happening, not quite able to comprehend the reality of her situation.

She had been arrested.

She was in a palace dungeon.

She was accused of theft.

And she had no idea how to prove her innocence, no idea who had done this to her, no idea what would happen next.

She moved to the cot and sat down.

The mattress was thin and uncomfortable.

She placed her hands flat on her thighs and stared at the wall.

Her entire world had just collapsed.

***

By evening, the news had spread through the entire palace.

In the kitchens, the servants discussed it in urgent whispers.

”Did you hear? The girl from the stables has been arrested!”

”For theft, they say. She stole Lady Margot’s necklace.”

”The one who was always getting attention from the kings? That girl?”

”Yes, that one. Apparently she’s a thief.”

***

In the corridors, nobility passed the news between them like currency.

”The servant girl has been arrested, I hear,” one noble said to another.

”The one the kings were interested in? How scandalous. I suppose she was using their attention to cover up her criminal activities.”

”I always suspected there was something off about her. Now it appears I was right.”

***

In the servants’ quarters, those who had known Morgana, those who had worked with her, those who had even been kind to her found themselves in a difficult position.

To defend her was to risk association with a criminal.

To distance themselves was to be prudent.

Most chose prudence.

Garrick, locked in his quarters in the stables, sat in silent anguish. He had been questioned for hours. He had been forced to explain how Morgana came to have private quarters. He had been pushed to admit that he had given her special treatment.

And with each answer, he felt like he was condemning her further.

***

In Isolde’s chambers, the four conspirators gathered once more.

Isolde stood at her window, looking out over the palace grounds, satisfaction evident in every line of her body.

”It’s done,” she said simply.

Vivienne looked satisfied. She had played her role perfectly. Tomorrow, when Morgana was brought before the council, she would testify as planned.