The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

The corridor from her chambers to Kaelen’s was not long, but it felt like the longest walk Morgana had ever taken.

Her feet moved across the stone floor with measured steps, each one deliberate, controlled, despite the nervous flutter in her chest. Rowan had helped her prepare, smoothing the wrinkles from her gown, loosening her hair slightly so it fell in waves down her back, checking her appearance in the mirror one final time as if the right appearance might somehow make what was about to happen less overwhelming.

”You are Morgana,” Rowan had whispered as she squeezed her friend’s hand at the door. ”Remember that. Whatever happens, you are still yourself.”

The corridors of the palace at night were quieter than they were during the day. The main halls had servants moving through them, preparing chambers, ensuring torches were lit and fires maintained. But the royal wing, the corridor where the kings slept, was more restricted. Fewer servants moved here. Guards stood at discreet distances, their presence felt but not intrusive.

Morgana passed several of them, and they bowed slightly as she walked past, their expressions neutral, professional. She wondered what they thought. What they understood about a ward being summoned to a king’s private chambers in the evening. She wondered if they knew that her heart was racing so hard she could hear it in her own ears, that her hands were trembling slightly despite her effort to keep them steady, that beneath her controlled exterior was a girl who had been a servant weeks ago and was now walking toward something that would change everything.

The door to Kaelen’s chambers was heavier than hers, more imposing, marked with the royal insignia more prominently. Guards stood on either side of it, and they did not move as she approached. One of them simply knocked, a courtesy that suggested she had been expected, and called out formally: ”My lady, the ward.”

From inside, a voice....Kaelen’s voice, raw and commanding: ”Send her in.”

The guard opened the door, and Morgana stepped across the threshold into the king’s private chambers.

The first thing she noticed was that Kaelen was not what she had expected.

She had thought perhaps he would be dressed formally, waiting for her, composed and controlled as the kings usually were. Instead, she found him standing at the far window, still in the shirt and trousers he wore under his formal robes, his jacket discarded on a chair, his pale eyes fixed on something beyond the glass.

The room was lit by candlelight, the fire in the hearth burning steadily, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. The furniture was fine, everything in the king’s chambers reflected wealth and power, but it was also lived in. Books were stacked on tables. A glass sat beside an empty bottle of whiskey. The space felt less like a formal royal chamber and more like a place where a man actually spent his time.

Kaelen turned from the window as the door closed behind her.

For a moment, he simply looked at her.

Morgana could see the toll the day had taken on him. His pale eyes burned with an intensity that suggested he had been thinking, planning, wanting, and that all of it had been directed at her. There was exhaustion in his features, but not the kind that came from simple physical tiredness. This was something deeper, the exhaustion of control, of holding something back, of managing forces that wanted to break free.

”You came,” he said, and his voice carried an edge that suggested he had not been entirely certain she would.

”You summoned me,” Morgana replied, her voice steady despite the trembling in her hands.

A slight smile crossed his face....not cruel, but with an edge of hunger to it.

”Yes, I did,” he said, and he moved toward her, his movements controlled but with an underlying tension that suggested that control was barely being maintained. ”The Selection is ended, Morgana. Do you understand what that means?”

She understood. It meant there was nothing standing between them now but choice. No competition, no propriety requiring distance, no framework that demanded the kings maintain careful restraint.

”It means everything is different,” she said quietly.

”Yes,” Kaelen confirmed, and he stopped close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell the whiskey and the sweat from the training grounds and something that was purely him. ”It means I can do this.”

He reached out and took her hand.

His grip was warm, firm, possessive. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm, his pale eyes fixed on her face, watching her reaction.

Morgana’s breath caught. The gesture was intimate in a way that was different from anything that had happened before. It was tender but also claiming, gentle but also absolute in its assertion of possession.

”Sit with me,” Kaelen said, leading her toward the chair before the fire.

He settled into the chair and pulled her down to sit beside him, not across from him as propriety might have suggested. His arm came around her shoulders, holding her close, and for a long moment, they simply sat there in silence, watching the fire burn.

Morgana could feel his heartbeat against her back, could feel the tension in his body, could sense the battle happening beneath his skin.

Kaelen could feel GLACIUS pushing, demanding, hungry. But Kaelen was holding it back, containing it, choosing to be present with her in human form before whatever transformation was coming.

”Do you know what it’s like?” Kaelen asked suddenly, his voice low and rough. ”To have a dragon living inside you? To feel it constantly, like a second heartbeat, like a hunger that never fully quiets?”

Morgana turned slightly to look at him. His pale eyes were fixed on the fire, his expression raw, vulnerable in a way that suggested he did not often allow people to see.

”No,” she said softly. ”I don’t know.”

”GLACIUS has been suffering for weeks,” Kaelen continued, his voice dropping lower. ”Watching you, wanting you, unable to act because the Selection was happening and the council was watching and my brothers were keeping their distance. He’s been screaming inside me, Morgana. Demanding that I claim you, that I take what I want, that I stop pretending restraint is possible.”