The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

The palace courtyard erupted into controlled chaos as the massive silver-white dragon descended from the night sky.

GLACIUS’s wings beat once, twice, and then the dragon settled onto the stone with a grace that belied his enormous size. His scales caught the torchlight, shimmering with an ethereal quality that seemed almost otherworldly. The guards stationed around the courtyard immediately stepped back, forming a respectful perimeter.

Morgana clung to the space between GLACIUS’s wings, her fingers buried in the ridges of his scales, her entire body still trembling with the exhilaration and terror of the flight. The wind had never been so alive. The world had never seemed so vast. And the dragon beneath her...wild, powerful, primal, had carried her to heights both literally and figuratively that she had never imagined possible.

The dragon lowered himself slightly, his massive wing extending like a ramp to allow her to dismount.

Morgana released her grip carefully and slid down the scaled surface, her legs trembling as they touched the stone courtyard. She was still wearing Kaelen’s cloak, the fabric wrapped around her like armor, carrying his scent, marking her as his in a way that went beyond simple proximity.

GLACIUS watched her with those pale blue eyes....Kaelen’s eyes, ancient and knowing and hungry all at once.

Then the transformation began.

It was violent and beautiful, a ripple of power that moved through the dragon’s body. Scales faded to skin. Wings dissolved into arms. The massive creature contracted and reformed until Kaelen stood before her, shirtless and glistening with the exertion of the shift.

He was magnificent.

His pale eyes burned with residual dragon-fire, his muscled chest heaving with the effort of the transformation. There were marks on his skin...ancient runes that seemed to shift in the torchlight, symbols of the dragon-magic that ran through his veins. His pale hair was disheveled, falling across his forehead, and when he looked at Morgana, there was something raw and possessive in his gaze that suggested GLACIUS was not entirely contained in human form.

”Come,” he said simply, and his voice carried the roughness of a man who had only moments ago been a dragon.

He reached for her hand, and Morgana gave it to him without hesitation.

His grip was warm, firm, possessive. His skin was still hot from the transformation, still thrumming with power. He pulled her close, and for a moment, he simply held her, breathing her in as if reassuring himself that she was real, that the night had been real, that what had transpired between them on the mountain was something that had actually happened.

But before he could kiss her, before he could draw her deeper into his arms, a guard appeared.

The man was one of the captain’s soldiers, bearing the insignia of the royal guard. He bowed immediately upon seeing Kaelen, but there was urgency in his movement.

”My King,” the guard said, his voice carrying clear importance, ”your brothers are waiting for you in the throne room. They have requested your presence immediately.”

Kaelen’s entire body stiffened.

Whatever had brought his brothers to summon him with such urgency had pulled his attention completely away from the contentment of the moment. His pale eyes sharpened, his expression shifting from the softness he had shown Morgana to something more alert.

”Come,” he said, turning to Morgana and pulling her toward the palace entrance. ”We need to go.”

Morgana’s feet resisted slightly.

”My King,” she said, her voice careful and respectful, ”I do not think that would be advisable. I think it is best that I return to my chambers while you meet with your brothers.”

Kaelen stopped moving.

He turned to face her fully, and in his pale eyes was a fire that suggested her suggestion, no matter how reasonable, was not going to be accepted.

”No,” he said simply. There was no negotiation in the word.”Follow me.”

Morgana understood in that moment that Kaelen did not know what was waiting for him in the throne room. But something in him...instinct, his dragon, something primal and essential, was telling him that he needed her there.

”Yes, Your Majesty,” Morgana whispered, and she allowed him to lead her deeper into the palace.

***

The palace corridors were quiet at this hour, the servants having retreated to their quarters, the administrative work of the day having concluded. Only guards moved through the stone passages now, and they bowed as the shirtless king and the cloaked woman passed.

Morgana could feel their eyes on her.

She could sense their questions, their confusion, the way they registered the fact that Kaelen had taken her somewhere and was now bringing her directly to the throne room in the dead of night. The gossip would spread through the palace like fire through dry grass. By morning, every servant would know that the ward had been taken out of the palace by the youngest king and had returned with him directly to meet his brothers.

The implications were staggering.

But Kaelen did not seem to care about implications or gossip or what the guards might think. He simply moved forward, his hand holding Morgana’s.

They reached the doors to the throne room.

The guards stationed there bowed deeply as Kaelen approached.

The doors opened silently, and Kaelen stepped through, pulling Morgana with him.

***

The throne room was exactly as it had been when Carrick and the white-haired girl had arrived.

Draeven still stood on the raised platform, his golden eyes showing calculation and concern mixed together. Thorne remained seated on his throne, his dark eyes fixed on some point in the distance, his posture suggesting a man thinking through complex strategic implications.

The moment Kaelen entered, both brothers’ attention snapped toward him.

But Kaelen’s focus was not on his brothers.

His pale eyes moved sharply across the room, and in that moment, Morgana felt the shift in his entire body. His hand clenched around hers.

Kaelen’s breathing changed.

His eyes scanned the room and landed on the white-haired girl.