The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

But then her expression became more serious, and she reached out to take Morgana’s hands in her own weathered ones.

”Head held high,” Agnes said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of counsel. ”You have nothing to be ashamed of. You navigated this afternoon with intelligence and grace. Remember that. Whatever this summons is about, remember that you handled yourself well.”

Her dark eyes held Morgana’s, and in them was a message of support, of belief, of confidence in the young woman Morgana was becoming.

Then Agnes pulled her out of the room.

***

Agnes and Morgana moved quickly through the palace corridors.

The evening was settling into the stone passages, creating long shadows that seemed to shift with each passing torch. Servants moving about their duties bowed as they passed, stepping aside immediately to allow them passage. The recognition of both Agnes’s authority and Morgana’s status was evident in every gesture.

Morgana’s heart was racing despite her external calm.

Why had the kings summoned her so urgently? Had something happened regarding the tea? Did they know what Lady Rose had revealed about the poison? Were they angry about something? Had someone reported to them about her behavior, her choices, her responses?

Agnes walked beside her, and Morgana found herself drawing strength from the old maid’s presence. Agnes would not be moving with such certainty if something terrible was about to happen. Agnes would have warned her, would have prepared her differently.

But the questions remained, spiraling through Morgana’s mind even as her feet carried her forward.

They rounded a corner, and the heavy wooden doors of the kings’ private chambers came into view. Guards stood at attention on either side, their bearing formal and respectful. They recognized both Agnes and Morgana, and they made no move to stop their passage, made no demand for verification of purpose.

Agnes paused at the threshold for just a moment.

She reached out and squeezed Morgana’s hand gently.

”You will be fine, child,” she whispered, the words meant for Morgana alone. ”More than fine. Trust yourself.”

And then Agnes stepped back, gesturing for Morgana to approach the doors.

Morgana moved to the heavy wooden doors.

For a moment, she simply stood there, her hand raised, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hear sounds from within the chamber, the subtle clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation.

She knocked.

Three sharp raps that carried through the wood, announcing her presence, requesting entry.

There was a moment of silence from within. And then, Thorne’s voice came through the door:

”Come in.”

Morgana took a breath.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the chamber and the door closed behind her.

***

The kings’ private dining chamber was warm with candlelight and the presence of a fireplace that burned with steady flames.

A table laden with food was positioned in the center of the room, fine plates and silver utensils arranged with care, glasses filled with wine and water. But it was not the table that commanded Morgana’s attention.

It was the three men seated around it.

All of them turned in unison when she entered, as if they had been waiting for exactly this moment, as if her arrival had been anticipated and prepared for. Their gazes fixed on her simultaneously, three sets of eyes assessing her, taking in her appearance.

The moment stretched between them.

Morgana standing in the doorway, dressed in blue silk and silver, and the three kings sitting there and staring at her.

Kaelen moved first.

His chair scraped back as he stood.

He crossed the distance between them in a few long strides.

Morgana barely had time to process what was happening before he was there, directly in front of her, his pale eyes fixed on her face with an intensity that burned.

His hands came up slowly.

The movement was not aggressive, but it was deliberate, and Morgana’s breath caught as she understood his intention. His fingers, warm and strong, came to cup her face on either side, his palms resting against her cheeks, his touch gentle despite the power in his hands.

The gesture surprised her completely.

She gasped....a small sound of shock and confusion, her body tensing at the unexpected intimacy of the contact.

Kaelen’s pale eyes searched her face, his voice dropping to something soft and concerned:

”Are you okay?”

The question was simple, but the weight behind it was profound. He was not asking if she was physically unharmed in the obvious sense.

Morgana could not find her voice to answer.

Instead, she simply shook her head, a small negation that was meant to convey: ”yes, I am okay.”

But her inability to speak, her shock at his touch, her entire body’s response to his hands on her face....it communicated far more than words could have.

Thorne’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.

”Let her sit, brother. You are scaring her.”

The words were not harsh, but they carried the weight of command. They carried the authority of someone who understood the moment and recognized that Kaelen’s intensity, however well-intentioned, was overwhelming Morgana’s ability to process what was happening.

Kaelen turned sharply to face his brother, and the movement was so sudden that Morgana felt the shift in the air around them.

His eyes flashed.

The gold that had been present before intensified, deepened, became something more primal. GLACIUS was responding to what he perceived as challenge, responding to the command, responding to the suggestion that he was doing something wrong.

But Kaelen did not move away from Morgana.

Instead, he held his position, his hands still cupping her face, his pale eyes fixed on Thorne with an intensity that was nearly as overwhelming as the intensity he had been directing at Morgana.

The silent communication between the brothers was absolute.

Thorne sat perfectly still in his chair, his dark eyes unflinching, his expression unwavering. There was no fear in that gaze, no doubt, no hesitation. There was only the certainty of someone who understood his brother completely and was not backing down.

Thorne tilted his head slightly, a gesture subtle enough that only someone who truly knew him would recognize it as the command it was.

”Yes,” he was saying without words. ”She is scared. Let her go.”