The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

For a moment, the tension in the chamber was so thick it seemed to vibrate in the candlelit air.

And then Kaelen closed his eyes.

His breath came out in a long, measured exhalation.

His eyes opened again, and the gold had faded back to pale blue. The intensity remained, but it had been transformed into something different....something that was protective rather than predatory, caring rather than consuming.

Kaelen’s hands remained on her face for just a moment longer.

His fingers were warm against her skin, and Morgana could feel the slight tremor in them....the residual effect of the control he had just exercised, the effort of containing his dragon and choosing gentleness instead.

His touch began to move with intention.

His fingers rubbed gently across her cheeks, the contact tender, almost apologetic, as if he was trying to soothe away the fear his intensity had caused.

Finally, he released her face entirely.

But instead of stepping back, he reached down and took her hand.

His fingers intertwined with hers, his touch warm and firm.”Come,” he said softly. ”Sit with us.”

He guided her toward the dining table, his movement slow and careful, giving her time to process, giving her space to transition from the shock of his greeting to the reality of what was happening. The walk across the chamber felt both endless and far too short, Morgana’s awareness narrowed to the feeling of his hand holding hers.

He pulled out her chair for her.

Morgana settled into it, her entire body still somewhat tense.

Kaelen then moved his own chair.

He scooped it closer to hers, positioning himself so that their shoulders nearly touched, so that he could see her face without strain, so that he could monitor her reactions.

Morgana found herself staring at him, her mind spinning, trying to understand what had just happened.

Draeven spoke for the first time since Morgana had entered the chamber.

”We heard that you had tea with the noble daughters,” Draeven said.

Morgana turned to look at him.

She had expected to have to volunteer this information, but the fact that they already knew suggested that news had traveled quickly, that either Agnes had reported back to them or someone else had informed them of the afternoon’s events.

”Yes, Your Majesty,” Morgana replied, her voice steady despite the tension in her body. ”They invited me to tea, and as your ward, I felt I had to attend.”

Draeven inclined his head slowly, and Morgana saw approval flash across his golden eyes.

”What did they ask of you?” Draeven continued, his voice dropping slightly lower, becoming more serious. ”Did they embarrass you?”

”No, Your Majesty,” Morgana replied. ”They did not embarrass me. They offered me their courtesy wrapped in gifts and threats, but they did not embarrass me.”

Thorne leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes focusing on Morgana.

”Threats? They threatened you?” he asked. and there was fury in those words, barely concealed beneath the calm tone.

Morgana turned to look at him.

”I would not really call it a threat, Your Majesty,” she said carefully. ”They offered me deeds of properties. They offered to take care of my mother. And then they made it known to me what would happen if you grew tired of me one day. How bad it would be if I was left with nothing.”

The words fell into the silence of the chamber like stones dropped into still water.

The implication was clear to Thorne: the noble daughters had been attempting to manipulate Morgana through appeals to her fear of abandonment, through suggestions that her elevation was temporary, through offers designed to make her feel that she needed insurance against being cast aside.

Kaelen’s hand on her own tightened slightly, his pale eyes flashing with anger.

”Those noble bastards,” he cursed.

Thorne’s voice cut in smoothly, redirecting the conversation before Kaelen’s fury could fully consume the moment:

”And what did they ask for in exchange for these generous gifts they were offering you?”

Morgana turned her attention to Thorne.

”They want me to influence your decisions,” Morgana said. ”They want me to convince your majesties to pick one of them before the Selection is called off.”

Kaelen’s curse was sharp and vicious, spoken under his breath but clearly audible in the chamber.

His free hand clenched into a fist on the table, the muscles in his jaw tightening visibly.

But what struck Morgana most was the control he exercised.

And his hand holding hers never loosened its grip.

If anything, the contact intensified slightly.

Draeven looked at Morgana across the table, his golden eyes assessing her completely.

”Was that all they asked of you?” he asked.

Morgana shook her head firmly.

”Yes, Your Majesty. That was all.”

Draeven inclined his head once, slowly, the gesture conveying absolute acceptance of her answer.

”Very well then. Let’s eat. We will take care of the noble daughters. But for now, let’s eat.”

Morgana blinked her eyes, trying to process the shift in tone.

Everything had happened so quickly....the summoning, the preparation, Kaelen’s intense greeting, the debrief, and now the declaration that things would be handled. She reached for her water cup, needing something to ground herself.

She took a sip and set the glass back down.

For a moment, all three kings simply ate, and Morgana followed their lead.

A spoon suddenly appeared before her mouth.

Morgana turned sharply,and found Kaelen holding the utensil with food carefully balanced on its surface.

His pale eyes held hers, and he shook his head slightly, an encouraging gesture that suggested: open your mouth.

Morgana hesitated for just a moment.

But then she opened her mouth.

Kaelen placed the spoon inside and she eat it.

And he immediately selected another bite.

The pattern continued as they ate.

Kaelen choosing the finest parts of the meal, selecting the most interesting flavors, offering them to her.

Morgana eventually protested gently.

”I am full, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Kaelen held up one final spoonful.

”One more,” he said, his voice dropping low so that only she could hear. ”If you take the last spoon, I will grant you a favor.”