The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

She swept her gaze across the room, meeting the eyes of each daughter briefly, a subtle reminder of her position, her power.

”There’s no recognition. No pull. No supernatural attraction or connection. Just...” She waved a hand dismissively. ”Indifference.”

The word landed like a blow.

Indifference was worse than rejection. Rejection meant they mattered enough to be turned down. Indifference meant they didn’t matter at all.

Seraphine’s jaw tightened. Vivienne made a mental note of Isolde’s certainty. And Celeste...sweet, hopeful Celeste, looked like she might cry.

The silence that followed was heavy and opressive.

Then Seraphine spoke, her voice carefully neutral, the voice of someone testing dangerous waters.

”There are rumors.”

Isolde’s eyes snapped to her. ”There are always rumors,” she said dismissively.

But there was something in her tone that suggested she wanted to hear this.

”These are different,” Seraphine said, choosing her words carefully, glancing around the room to ensure all the women were listening. She lowered her voice slightly, not so much that she was whispering, but enough that it created an intimacy, pulled the other women closer, made them feel like they were part of a secret.

”They say the kings have been... distracted. By someone who isn’t one of us.”

Isolde’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in her pale blue eyes. A spark. A spark of fury quickly masked.

”Go on,” Isolde said, her voice smooth as silk.

”A servant girl,” Seraphine continued, her confidence growing as she saw she had Isolde’s full attention. ”One of the new ones. I heard she was summoned to King Draeven’s chambers. Twice.”

She paused for effect.

”And King Kaelen’s,” Vivienne added, picking up the thread of the story. Vivienne had heard these rumors too, had been listening to the servants’ gossip with careful attention. ”There was talk that she was there for some time.”

A low murmur rippled through the room.

Isolde’s hands gripped the arms of her chair. Her knuckles went white.

”I’m aware,” she said coldly.

The force of that admission hung in the air.

The other women exchanged glances. If Isolde was already aware of this servant girl, if she had been monitoring her, then this situation was worse than they’d realized.

”You know her?” Celeste asked, her young voice trembling slightly. ”This servant girl?”

Isolde’s smile returned...sharp, dangerous, cutting as broken glass.

”I’ve had the displeasure,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. ”A scheming little peasant who thinks she can seduce her way into power. Thinks she can use her youth and whatever meager charms she possesses to catch the attention of kings.”

There was something almost personal in the way she said it. A venom that went beyond mere rivalry.

”But what if...” Celeste hesitated, the words coming out in a rush, as if she couldn’t stop them. ”What if she’s the one? What if she’s the Mother of Dragons from the prophecy? That would explain why the kings are watching her. Why they keep summoning her.”

”She’s not,” Isolde snapped, the word sharp as a whip.

But Celeste persisted, driven by a desperate kind of logic. ”But if she is...if the prophecy is real and she’s the one who can break the curse....”

”She’s a servant.” Isolde stood from her chair, and the movement was sudden enough to make several of the women flinch. Her voice rose, losing some of its controlled veneer. ”Common-born. Uneducated. Powerless. The prophecy speaks of a woman of fire and shadow, a woman whose bloodline is ancient and pure. A woman of status.”

She paused, her pale eyes glittering with something close to madness.

”Not some filthy stable girl who probably can’t even read.”

”Stable girl?” Seraphine raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. ”I thought she was a chambermaid.”

”She was.” Isolde’s smile returned....crueler now, more satisfied. ”Until I had her reassigned.”

The implications settled over the room like a shroud.

Understanding rippled through the gathered women.

Some gasped softly.

Others simply stared.

”You got her demoted,” Vivienne said, not as a question but as a statement of fact. And there was something almost like admiration in her voice, respect for another woman willing to eliminate competition through calculated cruelty.

”I did what was necessary,” Isolde said coldly, resuming her seat with the air of someone who had just disposed of a problem. ”And it worked beautifully, I might add. The girl is no longer in the palace proper. No longer in the upper chambers where she might accidentally stumble into the kings’ paths. No longer able to throw herself at them with such brazen abandon.”

She reclined in her chair, looking satisfied.

But Seraphine wasn’t done.

”And yet,” Seraphine said, her voice almost conversational, ”they still summon her.”

The words landed like a second blow.

Isolde’s jaw tightened visibly. The satisfaction drained from her face.

”They summon her from the stables?” Vivienne asked, a note of surprise in her voice. ”Even though she’s been demoted? Even though she’s no longer in the palace proper?”

”That’s... unusual,” another woman said quietly.

Isolde’s hands clenched into fists in her lap. ”It won’t happen again,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. ”Not if I have anything to say about it.”

”And what will you do?” Celeste asked, her young voice uncertain.

Isolde turned her gaze to the youngest daughter, and it was like watching someone look at an insect through a magnifying glass with cold, clinical interest.

”Not for long,” Isolde said, her voice soft but carrying absolute certainty. ”I promise you that, Celeste. Not for long.”

***

*THE COUNCIL OF ELDERS’S MEETING*

The council chamber was built to inspire awe.

Soaring ceilings painted with scenes of ancient dragons and victorious kings stretched high overhead, disappearing into shadow. The walls were lined with rich burgundy tapestries, woven with the sigils of the twelve Great Houses that had ruled the realm before the Dragon Kings came to power. Tall windows of stained glass filtered the late afternoon light into pools of crimson, gold, and deep blue across the polished obsidian floor.