The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

When Lady Isolde entered, the entire room seemed to shift.

She moved with the grace of someone who had been trained in the arts of court since childhood. Every step was measured. Every gesture was precisely calculated. Every expression was exactly where it needed to be.

Her pale blue gown was a masterpiece of elegant craftsmanship, with small diamonds sewn into the hem that caught the light and threw it back in glints of crystalline brilliance. Her golden hair was arranged in an elaborate style that suggested hours of preparation.

She looked, quite simply, like beauty incarnate.

She curtsied to the kings with a grace that was almost balletic, and as she did, she angled her body in such a way that if one were watching, one might notice the way Draeven’s jaw tightened at the sight of her.

It was the smallest tell. But Isolde would have noticed it.

She always noticed these things.

Cedric gestured for her to approach.

”Lady Isolde,” he said, ”you have testimony to offer regarding the alleged theft?”

”I do,” Isolde said, and her voice was soft...almost regretful. ”Though it pains me deeply to speak against anyone, I feel that the truth must be told.”

Her voice carried the weight of reluctance, of burden, of someone doing an unpleasant duty because honor demanded it.

It was, Thorne noted with cold appreciation, a masterful performance.

”Go on,” Cedric said.

”I saw the accused....Morgana, near Lady Margot’s chambers,” Isolde said, her pale blue eyes taking on an expression of concerned uncertainty. ”It was two days before the necklace was reported missing. She was carrying a tray of linens, ostensibly to deliver them to the chamber. But she lingered there. Outside the door. For several minutes.”

She paused, as if the memory was troubling her.

”At the time, I thought nothing of it,” she continued. ”A servant delivering linens might need a moment to balance the tray, or to gather courage before entering a noble’s chamber. But now...” She trailed off, allowing Cedric to complete her thought.

”Now you believe she may have been planning the theft,” Cedric finished.

”I... I cannot say for certain,” Isolde said, and her voice was perfectly modulated to express both regret and uncertainty. ”But it seems possible, doesn’t it?”

Morgana’s voice shook as she started to protest. ”That’s not true. I was never.....”

”Silence,” Cedric said sharply. ”You will have your chance to speak.”

Isolde’s expression didn’t change, but her pale blue eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

She stepped back, preparing to exit the center of the chamber.

But as she passed Morgana, she paused for just a moment.

Their eyes met.

And Isolde smiled.

It was a small smile. Almost imperceptible. But it contained the absolute certainty of someone who knew they had just delivered the final nail into their victim’s coffin.

Morgana saw that smile.

And in that moment, Morgana knows that whatever she says, nobody would believe her.

Who would believe her if she accused a noblewoman of such a thing?

***

Lady Vivienne stepped forward next.

”I also saw the accused near the noble quarters,” she said, her voice carrying certainty where Isolde’s had carried doubt. ”She seemed... nervous. Furtive. As if she were trying to hide something.”

”Nervous how?” Cedric asked.

”She kept glancing over her shoulder. Her hands were shaking. Her entire demeanor suggested someone who was engaged in clandestine activity.”

It was a lie.

A perfect lie.

A lie delivered with the kind of confidence that made people believe it, because confidence had a way of suggesting truth.

Morgana started to object.

”I wasn’t....”

But Cedric simply raised a hand, and she fell silent.

Then Lady Seraphine stepped forward.

”I also have testimony,” she said calmly. ”I heard the accused speaking with another servant. They were in the kitchen. She was complaining about her wages. Saying she needed more money.”

She paused, allowing the implication to settle.

”If someone is desperate enough for money,” Seraphine continued, her voice carrying the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, ”they become desperate enough to take it. To steal it. To betray the trust of those who have taken them into their homes.”

It was weaponized pity. It was concern dressed up as judgment. It was the kind of accusation that seemed almost sympathetic even as it destroyed.

The council nodded, noting her words.

And Morgana understood: they were building a narrative. Each witness was adding another layer to the story of her guilt. Each testimony was reinforcing the others, creating a web that was becoming increasingly inescapable.

She looked around the room, trying to find even one face that showed doubt, that showed skepticism, that showed even a glimmer of belief in her innocence.

She found none.

Lady Celeste was called forward last among the witnesses.

She approached slowly.

Her hands were shaking.

Her face was very pale.

When she reached the center of the chamber, she looked at Cedric, then looked away, then forced herself to meet his gaze again.

”State your name,” Cedric said.

”L-Lady Celeste,” she said, her voice barely audible. ”Of House... of the minor house in the northwest territories.”

”And you have testimony to offer?”

Celeste hesitated.

Her eyes flicked toward Morgana.

And in that moment, their gazes met.

And Morgana saw it clearly...the guilt, the shame, the absolute knowledge that Celeste was about to destroy an innocent person, and the fact that she was doing it anyway.

”I...” Celeste’s voice shook. ”I saw her. Near Lady Margot’s chambers. Like the others said.”

”You saw the accused near the chambers?” Cedric pressed.

”Yes. She looked... suspicious.”

”Suspicious how?”

Celeste swallowed hard. ”I don’t... I don’t know. Just... suspicious.”

It was the weakest testimony yet. It was unconvincing. It was so obviously strained that even the most generous interpretation would suggest that Celeste was lying.

But it didn’t matter.

The pile-on was complete.

Five witnesses. Five people testifying against her. Five voices singing the same song of guilt and betrayal.

And one of them....Celeste, was so obviously wracked with guilt that her words seemed to carry the weight of truth even as they were transparently false.

Celeste stepped back, and tears began to stream down her face.

She walked back to her seat with her head down, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

And Morgana watched her go and understood: even the weakest link in the conspiracy was still a link.

Even the guilty would not break.

They were all committed to destroying her.