The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

”And what is that supposed to mean, brother?” Kaelen demanded.

Thorne leaned forward on his throne.

”It’s either that she is real, or she is an imposter,” the Shadow King said simply. ”And either way, we need to find out which. We need to know whether the girl is a distraction he’s using while he pursues some other agenda.”

He paused, settling back into his chair.

”Let’s talk about how you took Morgana out of the palace without informing us,” Thorne said, his dark eyes fixed on Kaelen.

Kaelen looked at his brother with something like defiance in his expression.

”And since when did I need your permission to be with her?” Kaelen asked coldly.

Thorne scoffed...a sharp, bitter sound that echoed through the throne room.

”Bastard,” he muttered, but there was something beneath the word. Something that went deeper than simple annoyance.

Draeven heard it.

The First King understood, without Thorne having to say it aloud, exactly what his brother was feeling.

It was not anger that Kaelen had taken Morgana out of the palace.

It was jealousy that Kaelen had gotten to do it first. It was the frustration of someone who cared more deeply than he was willing to admit, who wanted time with Morgana, who wanted to show her his true form, who wanted the intimacy that Kaelen had claimed without asking permission.

Draeven cleared his throat, bringing attention back to the more pressing matter.

”What do we do about the new girl?” the First King asked. ”We can’t simply leave her in the palace without understanding what we have. Can we?”

Thorne’s expression had shifted back to strategic calculation.

”Leave that to me,” he said. ”I will find out what we need to know about her. I will determine whether she is a genuine threat or simply a pawn in whatever game Carrick is playing.”

He looked directly at Draeven.

”I need to make use of Simon,” Thorne said simply.

Draeven nodded without hesitation.

”Send word for him tonight,” the First King commanded. ”Tell him I want answers by tomorrow evening.”

Thorne nodded then turned back to face Kaelen.

”I suppose you had a nice time with her,” Thorne said, and there was something in his voice that suggested the question was more pointed than it appeared.

Kaelen smiled slightly.

”Of course I did,” he said. ”And the night is not yet done.”

He looked at his brothers with absolute confidence, with the arrogance of someone who knew exactly where he needed to be and had no intention of delaying his arrival.

”Well, if you would excuse me,” Kaelen said smoothly, ”I have an appointment to keep.”

He whistled...a low, clear sound that seemed to carry significance.

Then he turned and walked from the throne room, his pace unhurried, his entire bearing suggesting that whatever crisis had brought his brothers to summon him, whatever game Carrick was playing, whatever the white-haired girl represented, none of it was as important as where he was going and who he was going to see.

Draeven and Thorne watched him go.

The doors to the throne room closed behind him with a soft finality.

For a moment, neither brother spoke.

Then Thorne clenched his hand and turned to face Draeven fully, and there was something in his dark eyes that suggested he was accepting something he did not particularly want to accept.

”Arrogant bastard,” Thorne muttered.

Draeven’s expression showed understanding.

”Just let him have his time with her, brother,” the First King said quietly. ”At least we know he has something else to occupy his mind now. At least we know that his focus is divided between his dragon’s hunger and his royal responsibilities.”

He paused, turning to look out at the throne room’s vast space.

”Do not forget to send word for Simon,” Draeven said. ”We need to get to the bottom of this gift Carrick has brought for us. We need to understand whether he knows about Morgana specifically, whether he understands what she might be, whether this girl is meant to distract us or replace her in some way.”

Thorne nodded slowly, understanding the implications.

”I will have answers by tomorrow evening,” the Shadow King said. ”One way or another, we will know what we are dealing with.”

Draeven settled back onto his throne, his golden eyes fixed on the space where the white-haired girl had stood.

***

As Morgana walked through the corridors back to her chambers, her mind was working through everything that had transpired.

The girl...the white haired girl.

There had been something uncanny about her. Something that had made Morgana’s magic respond, that had made her blood sing with a recognition she did not fully understand.

The girl had looked at her with knowledge in her eyes. Ancient knowledge. Understanding that suggested she knew what Morgana was and that she found that knowledge significant.

But the girl was not a threat in the way Morgana might have expected. It was something more subtle. Something more complex.

The white-haired girl was a complication.

And Morgana understood, as she walked through the familiar corridors of the palace, that whatever had brought the girl to the palace, whatever game Carrick was playing, it involved her.

It involved her directly.

When she reached her chambers, Rowan was waiting.

Her best friend rushed to her immediately, pulling her into an embrace.

”Are you alright?” Rowan demanded. ”What happened? Everyone was saying the youngest king had taken you out of the palace, and then he brought you back directly to the throne room, and there was a commotion, and I heard shouting....”

”I’m alright,” Morgana said, pulling back from the embrace. ”But something has happened. Something significant. And I don’t yet understand what it means.”

She moved to the window and looked out at the palace grounds, her mind still processing the image of the white-haired girl, the way she had looked at her, the way the kings had reacted.

Whatever came next, Morgana understood, would change everything.