The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

Agnes’s face when she looked at Morgana was warm, understanding, filled with the kind of maternal care that came from decades of serving noble families. She moved to the window where Morgana sat, taking in her appearance with eyes that saw everything.

”Good morning, child,” Agnes said, her voice carrying the weight of genuine kindness. ”How are you feeling today?”

The question was simple, but it carried layers. How was she physically? How was she emotionally? Was she frightened? Was she overwhelmed? Was she managing the shock of her transformed circumstances?

Morgana managed a small smile.

”I’m okay,” she said, the lie coming easily because the truth was too complicated, too overwhelming, too difficult to articulate.

Agnes studied her for a long moment, and in that study was the understanding of someone who had seen many young women thrust into uncertain circumstances. She did not push. She simply nodded, accepting what was offered while understanding what was withheld.

”We need to get you ready, child,” Agnes said, her voice taking on a more formal tone.

The shift from warm greeting to official business was subtle but unmistakable.

Morgana’s confusion was immediate.

”Get me ready for what?” she asked, her voice carrying a note of concern. Prepared for what? Was there some formal ceremony she did not know about? Some protocol she was expected to follow?

Agnes exchanged a brief glance with the servants behind her. A look passed between them, the kind of look that suggested they had prepared for this reaction, that they understood the magnitude of what they were about to reveal.

Agnes moved closer to the window where Morgana sat. Her aged hands, weathered from years of work, reached out and gently took Morgana’s own smaller hand.

”The kings have asked that you join them in their private chambers for breakfast,” Agnes said, her voice carrying the weight of royal command wrapped in maternal kindness.

The words seemed to hang in the air between them.

Morgana’s mouth opened.

No words emerged.

Her mind was processing what Agnes had just said, but the processing was happening in slow motion. The kings. Their private chambers. Breakfast. The three most powerful men in the kingdom had requested her presence in their personal space.

”The... the kings?” Morgana whispered, her voice barely audible.

”Yes, child,” Agnes said, and there was something in her expression that suggested she understood exactly what Morgana was feeling. ”They wish to dine with you. To know you better, I imagine.”

The implications of that statement were staggering.

”I...” Morgana began, then stopped. She had no words adequate to the moment. How could she possibly sit at a table with three kings? What would they talk about? How was she supposed to behave? What if she said something wrong, did something wrong, embarrassed herself?

”Hurry up, child,” Agnes said, her voice taking on the firm but caring tone of someone who needed to move matters along. ”We don’t have much time to prepare you.”

There was no disapproval in her voice, no judgment. Just the practical understanding that if the kings had summoned Morgana, then she must be ready. And readiness in a palace meant more than simply putting on fresh clothes.

***

The bathing chamber was already prepared.

Agnes’s efficiency was evident in every detail. Hot water steamed in the large stone bath, infused with the scent of lavender and rose oils. Fresh towels had been laid out, finer than any Morgana had ever used. Agnes directed the servants with quiet authority, pointing to where things should be placed, ensuring that everything was exactly as it should be.

”Come, child,” Agnes said, her hand extended. ”Let’s get you clean.”

Morgana moved through the process in a state of partial awareness, her mind still reeling with the knowledge of what awaited her. Agnes helped her from her nightgown with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this countless times. The older woman did not stare, did not make Morgana feel exposed or vulnerable, but moved with a professionalism that allowed for dignity even in states of undress.

Morgana lowered herself into the hot water.

The warmth enveloped her like an embrace, easing tension from muscles she had not realized were clenched. The water seemed to carry away not just the residue of sleep but also some of the anxiety that had been building since the trial. She sank deeper, allowing the heat to penetrate, to relax, to soothe.

Agnes appeared at the edge of the bath with a pitcher of fresh water.

”Let’s wash your hair, child,” the old maid said, and her hands, when they came to Morgana’s head, were gentle and sure. She worked the warm water through Morgana’s hair, massaging her scalp with a kindness that seemed almost too much to bear. The care in those hands spoke of decades of service, of understanding that physical touch could communicate what words could not.

As Agnes worked, Morgana’s mind wandered.

She thought of Rowan, wondering what her friend would say if she could see this moment. The luxury of it. The care. The absolute inversion of her old life. She thought of her mother, who was somewhere outside the palace, who did not yet know that her daughter had been elevated to ward of the throne. What would her mother think? Would she understand why Morgana had been claimed? Would she understand the weight of it?

And there was something else that nagged at her consciousness.

A feeling rather than a memory. The sense that someone had been in her chamber last night. She had woken with that feeling, the awareness of a presence, of someone standing near her bed. She had even felt a touch.....someone’s hand on her face, gentle and warm. But when she had opened her eyes, there had been no one.

A dream, she had told herself. Just a dream born of anxiety and uncertainty and the strangeness of her new surroundings.

But it had felt real.

Agnes rinsed her hair, and the water cascaded down, washing away soap and also washing away the lingering uncertainty. By the time she was finished, Morgana felt cleaner than she had in her entire life.