The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

Morgana looked at the documents on the table.

She understood what they truly represented. They were not gifts. They were chains. They were a way to ensure that she was indebted, that she could be reminded of the noble daughters’ generosity whenever she refused to help them, that she had made herself complicit in an arrangement that went against her own interests.

If she accepted these deeds, she would be forever in the noble daughters’ debt. They could point to the papers and say: we made you secure, we ensured your future, and in return, you owe us your loyalty.

It was the perfect trap, because it offered something real....actual security, actual property, actual resources, while asking for something intangible....alliance, loyalty, willingness to use whatever influence she had on their behalf.

”Your offer is generous,” Morgana said, and she meant it. The offer was generous in its way. It was also thoroughly manipulative. ”But I cannot accept.”

Lady Margot nodded slowly, as if she had expected this response.

”As you wish,” she said, and her voice carried something that might have been respect or might have been frustration. ”We simply wanted to ensure your security.”

”I understand,” Morgana said. ”And I appreciate the intention, even if I cannot accept the gift.”

She paused, and then added, because it seemed important to be clear: ”I will not accept future offers of this nature either. Not because I doubt your sincerity, but because accepting would change the nature of our relationship in ways that I am not comfortable with.”

The noble daughters sat back in their chairs, and Morgana could see the realization settling over them. They had tried multiple approaches. Sympathy. Bribery. Appeals to her mother’s welfare. Promises of security. And all had failed.

***

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that.

The noble daughters tried to recover some grace, to pretend that the meeting had been simple social courtesy rather than a hunting expedition. They talked about the weather, about upcoming palace events, about the latest fashions. Morgana participated in these conversations with polite distance, neither warm nor cold, neither engaged nor detached.

But throughout all of this, Morgana was aware of one person who had not spoken much at all.

Lady Rose sat in a corner of the room, almost unnoticed, almost invisible. She was a pale girl with dark hair and darker eyes, the kind of person who seemed to naturally fade into the background. During all of the offers and manipulations, Rose had said almost nothing. She had simply sat and watched. And now, as the conversation turned to inconsequential matters, Rose finally spoke.

”Morgana,” she said, and her voice was very soft, very quiet. ”You seem different from what we expected.”

Morgana turned her attention fully toward Rose, and she felt something shift in the air of the room.

”Different how?” Morgana asked.

”Stronger perhaps,” Rose said, and there was no hostility in her voice, no accusation. Just observation. ”Or more careful. We were not entirely sure which.”

Rose set down her teacup, which she had been holding throughout the meeting but which, like Morgana’s, remained untouched.

”You did not drink the tea,” Rose said softly. ”That was wise.”

The statement hung in the air, and Morgana felt every muscle in her body go tight.

Rose continued, her voice still soft, still calm: ”It was laced with something mild. Not lethal, nothing so crude. Just something to lower your defenses, to make you more susceptible to suggestion. The kind of thing my family is known for creating.”

She smiled, and there was something almost gentle in the expression.

”But you did not drink. You sensed the danger or you simply chose caution. Either way, the test failed.”

”Test?” Morgana asked, and her voice remained steady despite the fury building inside her.

”To see what you were made of,” Rose said simply. ”To see if you could be poisoned, if you could be manipulated, if you could be rendered vulnerable. My cousins wanted to know if you were a threat to their plans or simply a girl who had been elevated beyond her station.”

She stood, and her movement was fluid, graceful, controlled.

”I believe the answer is that you are both,” Rose said. ”You were elevated beyond your station, yes. But you are not as helpless as they believed. You are more careful. You are more intelligent. You understand the games being played.”

Morgana met her eyes, and in that moment, there was a communication passing between them that had nothing to do with the words being spoken.

They understood each other. Both of them were players in a game that the others in the room were only beginning to understand.

”I hope the tea was at least palatable, despite the additions,” Rose said, and there was a hint of something that might have been humor in her voice. ”Even if you chose not to drink it.”

Morgana set down her teacup carefully.

She stood, and this time, the gesture was final. There would be no more conversation, no more offers, no more testing.

”Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, and her voice was gracious but absolute. ”The tea was lovely. And the company was... informative.”

The subtle emphasis on that last word was not lost on anyone in the room.

Lady Margot rose as well, understanding that the meeting was truly over.

”We hope you will consider our offers, even if you decline them now,” Margot said. ”Perhaps in the future, your circumstances will be different. Perhaps you will find yourself in need of friends.”

”I will always remember your kindness,” Morgana replied, which was technically true. She would remember their kindness, and she would also remember their manipulation, their desperation, their willingness to poison her in the name of discovering what she was capable of.

Lia appeared at the door, anticipating Morgana’s departure, ready to assist. Morgana moved toward her, and as she walked, she did not look back at the noble daughters.