The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

”Come in,” Morgana called, pulling herself back to full presence.

The door opened, and Agnes entered.

But Agnes was not alone.

Behind her came more servants than usual, two maids that Morgana recognized from the morning routine, but also a third girl that Morgana had never seen before. The new maid was younger than Agnes, perhaps only slightly older than Morgana herself. She had dark hair pulled back in a neat braid, dark eyes that seemed to observe everything.

There was something about her that made the hair on the back of Morgana’s neck stand up.

Agnes moved forward with her usual efficiency, but Morgana caught the slight tension in the old maid’s movements, the careful way she positioned herself slightly between Morgana and the new servant.

”My lady,” Agnes said, using the formal address, ”it is time to get you ready for your afternoon appointment.”

Morgana nodded, standing to receive the servants’ ministrations.

Agnes continued, gesturing to the new girl: ”This is Lia. She will be your maid for the afternoon.”

Morgana’s attention sharpened.

Agnes continued with her explanation: ”As you do not yet have maids permanently assigned to your quarters, we have designated Lia to accompany you to the tea meeting and serve as your attendant. She will ensure that your appearance remains perfect throughout the afternoon and handle any needs that might arise.”

Lia stepped forward and bowed respectfully.

”It is an honor to serve you, my lady,” the girl said, her voice soft and deferential, the perfect picture of a servant who understood her station and was pleased to be of service.

But Morgana was not listening to her words.

Morgana was feeling something else.

There was a wrongness about Lia that had nothing to do with her appearance or her words. It was something deeper, something that Morgana’s magical senses were picking up like a dog might smell fear or illness.

As Morgana looked at Lia, she could see the energy surrounding the girl. And that energy was wrong.

It was dark.

Black smoke-like energy coiled around Lia like serpents. It oozed from her like a miasma, visible to Morgana’s magical perception but apparently invisible to everyone else in the room.

Morgana’s immediate understanding was crystalline in its clarity: this girl was not what she appeared to be.

Morgana forced herself to continue breathing normally.

She forced herself to maintain an expression of mild interest rather than the alarm that was coursing through her veins.

”I do not really need a maid, Agnes,” Morgana said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. ”I can manage perfectly well on my own.”

Agnes’s expression tightened slightly. She had clearly expected this response, but hearing it was different than merely anticipating it.

But Agnes was prepared with her response.

”My lady,” the old maid said, her voice firm, ”it would not speak well of the kings’ reputation if their ward is seen walking without an assistant. And for attending the tea meeting with the noble daughters, you will definitely need a maid to ensure your appearance remains impeccable and to handle any needs that might arise during the afternoon.”

It was a reasonable argument, and both of them knew it. In palace society, a person of status did not move without attendants. To do so would suggest either poverty or a lack of proper training.

Morgana looked at Lia again, feeling the dark energy that surrounded her, understanding that if she refused to accept this girl as her attendant, there would be questions, there would be awkwardness, there would be attention drawn to the refusal that might be worse than simply accepting the situation.

”Very well,” Morgana said finally, the words feeling like defeat even as she understood that resistance would only make things worse. ”I will make do for the afternoon.”

Lia bowed again.

”Thank you, my lady,” she said softly. ”I will not disappoint you.”

But Morgana was watching her carefully now.

She would have to be careful, had to assume that anything she did in the presence of Lia would be reported to whoever had placed the girl beside her.

Agnes turned to the other servants and began directing them on what to do.

”Bring the afternoon gowns,” she instructed. ”My lady needs to be dressed appropriately for the tea meeting.”

***

The servants moved throughout the chamber, bringing gowns for Morgana’s selection.

Three beautiful dresses were laid out on the bed, each one fine, each one appropriate for a ward of the throne attending a social engagement.

Agnes supervised the selection with the precision of someone who understood exactly what message each choice would send.

”The cream,” Agnes decided finally, her voice brooking no argument. ”It shows status without arrogance. It is elegant without being defensive. It tells them that you belong here without needing to prove it.”

The servants began the process of preparing the gown, ensuring that every detail was perfect. Jewelry was selected....pieces that were beautiful but not overwhelming. A delicate necklace with a single pearl. Bracelets that caught the light. Small earrings that framed her face without drawing excessive attention.

All the while, Morgana’s eyes followed the movement of the servants.

But mostly, her eyes followed Lia.

The girl moved with the practiced efficiency of someone trained in servant’s work, but there was something performative about it, something that suggested she was acting the role rather than simply being the role. Her dark eyes tracked Morgana’s movements when she thought Morgana wasn’t watching her.

She was definitely a spy.

The question remained: who had sent her?

The council? The nobles? Someone else entirely?

Morgana’s hand moved to her temple, and she closed her eyes for just a moment.

When she opened them again, she let out a slow breath, and the words escaped her lips almost without her intention:

”Yet another problem.”

Morgana continued rubbing her temple and she looked up to where the servants were working.

”Why is this palace so filled with filthy creatures in human skin?”