The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

She was still standing in the space where Carrick had left her, the cloak having been pulled back over her head, her pale hands visible beneath the fabric. She was completely still, waiting, patient in a way that suggested she understood she was being assessed.

When she heard Kaelen enter, the girl turned.

She pulled the hood of the cloak from her head, revealing her pale face, her silver-blonde hair, her eyes that held depths of knowledge and power that seemed impossible for someone of her apparent age.

And when she looked at Kaelen, something passed between them.

It was not recognition exactly. It was more like acknowledgment, a moment where two forces recognized each other’s existence.

Kaelen’s hand on Morgana’s clenched so tightly she almost gasped.

It was not gentle. It was not controlled. It was the grip of someone restraining himself from taking action, holding himself back through sheer force of will. His pale eyes burned with something that looked like fury mixed with confusion, like recognition mixed with rejection.

He was holding Morgana’s hand as if she was an anchor. As if he might lose himself without her presence.

Morgana looked down at their joined hands.

Then she looked up at the girl who had captured Kaelen’s complete attention.

And the girl looked back at her.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Morgana felt it before she understood it, a surge of something in the air between herself and the white-haired girl. It was not hostile exactly, but it was charged with significance. It carried weight. It suggested that these two women, standing in the same room for the first time, were recognizing something about each other that went far beyond simple observation.

The girl’s pale eyes were luminous, ancient, knowing. They moved across Morgana’s face as if reading something written there that no one else could see. As if she was looking into Morgana and seeing layers and depths and power that existed beneath her surface.

And Morgana, looking back at the girl, felt something similar.

There was magic here. There was power. There was something uncanny about the white-haired girl that suggested she was far more than she appeared to be. But it was a different kind of power than what Morgana carried within herself. It was darker somehow. More contained. More calculated.

The girl’s lips curved slightly upward, as if she had just confirmed something she had suspected.

She knew what Morgana was.

And Morgana understood, in that moment of locked eyes and silent communication, that this girl, whoever she was, whatever she was, represented a complication that she did not yet have the framework to understand.

The stare continued for what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds.

Then Kaelen turned sharply to face his brothers.

”What is the meaning of this?” Kaelen demanded, his voice cutting through the throne room like a blade.

His pale eyes were fixed on Draeven with an intensity that suggested he expected answers.

Draeven rose slowly from his standing position.

He descended the steps of the raised platform with measured movements, his golden eyes never leaving his youngest brother’s face.

”Carrick Greythorne,” Draeven said, ”has arrived at the palace with a... gift. He claims that this young woman is the Mother of Dragons. He has presented her as compensation for his daughter’s actions and as an offering meant to address our centuries-long search for the one from prophecy.”

The words hung in the air.

Kaelen’s entire body went rigid.

”That’s bullshit,” he said flatly.

The girl’s expression shifted.

She moved gracefully across the throne room toward Kaelen, her movements fluid and controlled. She stopped before him and bowed...the kind of deep, respectful bow that noble ladies performed in the presence of royalty.

”My King,” she said, and her voice was soft, melodic, carrying accents that suggested she was not native to the kingdom. ”My name is...”

”I don’t care what your name is,” Kaelen interrupted coldly.

His pale eyes had moved past her, fixing on the space where Carrick Greythorne was standing.

”I don’t know what trick you are playing,” Kaelen said, his voice carrying a cold precision. ”but you need to leave this palace right now. Take your gift and get out of my home before I decide to teach you exactly what it means to deceive a dragon king.”

The white-haired girl’s eyes widened slightly at the vehemence in his tone.

She turned slowly and looked toward where Carrick was standing,

”Your Majesty,” Carrick said, his voice smooth and controlled as he moved forward. ”If I were you, I wouldn’t be quick to dismiss what I have brought to your palace. I brought you what you have been looking for for over two centuries. And this is how you treat it?”

He took another step forward.

”Think very carefully before you make this mistake,” Carrick continued, his voice carrying undertones of threat beneath its courteous surface. ”A man who has traveled this far, who has brought something this significant, is not a man to be dismissed casually. There are others who would be very interested in what I have to offer. Others who would pay dearly for the opportunity to understand what this girl truly represents.”

He turned slightly, addressing his words to Draeven, his body language suggesting he was looking past Kaelen to the First King, as if Kaelen was too volatile to negotiate with directly.

”My King....”

But Thorne raised his hand.

The gesture was not aggressive, but it was absolute. It silenced Carrick mid-sentence, cutting off whatever manipulation he had been preparing to deploy.

Thorne rose slowly from his throne.

He descended the steps with the same measured pace that Draeven had used, but where Draeven moved with the calculation of a strategist, Thorne moved with the predatory grace of a warrior assessing a threat.

”Captain Rhen,” Thorne called out.

The guard captain, who had been standing near the throne room’s doors, immediately moved forward and bowed.

”Your Majesty,” Rhen acknowledged.

”See that our visitors are settled in the guest chambers,” Thorne said, his dark eyes fixed on Carrick. ”They will be comfortable there. They will remain there until we decide otherwise.”