The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

The kitchen was where gossip lived.

It was where whispers traveled faster than fire, where rumors spread like disease, where secrets became common knowledge within hours of being spoken aloud.

Rowan had been kneading bread when she heard it.

One of the other kitchen maids.....a girl named Petra who worked the morning shift, had been speaking to the head cook about the trial that had concluded that afternoon.

"Did you hear?" Petra had said, her voice breathless with excitement. "The servant girl from the stables. The one accused of theft. She was found innocent!"

Rowan’s hands had stilled in the dough.

"And that’s not even the best part," Petra continued, apparently oblivious to the way Rowan’s entire body had gone rigid. "One of the kings invoked an ancient law. The Law of Crown Protection. She’s a ward of the throne now. A ward, can you imagine? A servant girl made a ward of the throne!"

The other kitchen staff had erupted in shocked conversation.

But Rowan had heard nothing but the pounding of her own heart.

Morgana. Innocent. Saved. Made a ward of the throne.

She had wanted to run immediately to find her. She had wanted to leave the kitchen, leave her duties, leave everything, and rush to discover where Morgana was, whether she was truly safe, whether she was truly alive.

But she had forced herself to wait.

She had finished her shift. She had done her duties. She had acted as though the news meant nothing to her, as though her best friend’s fate was just another piece of palace gossip.

And then, as soon as she could slip away without drawing attention, she had moved.

The palace was vast and complex, with corridors and passages that most people didn’t know about. But Rowan had worked in the kitchens for weeks. She knew the servant passages. She knew the back ways. She knew how to move through the palace without being noticed.

She moved through dimly lit corridors, past storage rooms and laundries, through spaces that nobles never saw, in the direction of the royal wing.

It was dangerous.

If she was discovered in the royal wing without permission, there would be questions. There would be consequences. There would be explanations demanded that she couldn’t provide.

But she had to see Morgana.

She had to know that her friend was alive, that she was safe, that she was okay.

The corridor narrowed as she climbed higher into the palace. The stone walls became finer. The torches became more frequent. The air itself seemed to shift, becoming something more refined, more rarefied, more charged with importance.

She was getting close.

She moved more carefully now, listening for the sound of guards, for the footsteps of servants who worked in this part of the palace, for any indication that she was about to be discovered.

She found the chamber by logic and luck.

The kings’ chambers were on the top floors of the palace, in the wing that overlooked the entire kingdom. The ward of the throne would be nearby, close enough to be under their protection, but not so close as to be in their personal space.

She counted the doors. She listened at each one for sound of habitation. And finally, guided by something she couldn’t name....intuition, perhaps, or destiny, or simply the bond between best friends, she found Morgana’s door.

She took a deep breath.

She knocked softly.

***

Morgana was sitting by the window.

She had been sitting there for hours, it felt like, staring out at the palace grounds, watching the lights gradually fade as evening deepened into night.

She was lost in her thoughts. Lost in her fear. Lost in the spiral of terror that had consumed her since she arrived in these chambers.

The knock pulled her from her reverie.

She didn’t respond at first. The knock was so soft, so hesitant, that she almost convinced herself she had imagined it.

Then it came again.

Slightly louder. More insistent. More real.

Morgana stood up, confused. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Agnes had left hours ago. The maids had cleared away the dinner trays. She had been told that she could rest, that no one would disturb her unless she rang the bell.

Who would knock on her door?

She moved toward the entrance and opened it.

And the world stopped.

Standing in the corridor, framed by candlelight, her auburn hair catching the golden glow, her freckles visible in the dancing light, was Rowan.

Her best friend.

Her sister in everything but blood.

Rowan, who she thought she might never see again. Rowan, who she had been terrified was lost to her forever. Rowan, who was standing in the royal wing with tears in her eyes and an expression of such desperate hope and relief that Morgana felt her own tears begin to fall immediately.

"Morgana?" Rowan’s voice was uncertain, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

"Rowan?" Morgana breathed, the word barely more than a whisper.

And then they were moving toward each other, meeting in the middle of the corridor, their arms wrapping around each other with the kind of desperation that only comes when you think you’ve lost someone forever and they’re suddenly, impossibly, there.

They embraced like drowning women finding land.

Morgana buried her face in Rowan’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of flour and baking bread and something that was just Rowan....something that had been constant in her life since childhood.

Rowan was shaking. Her entire body was trembling as she held Morgana like she might disappear if she let go.

"I thought..." Rowan began, but couldn’t finish. Her words dissolved into sobs.

"I know," Morgana whispered. "I know. I’m here. I’m okay."

But was she? Was she really okay? In this moment, holding her best friend, feeling the familiar warmth of another person who loved her, Morgana felt something shift. Some of the cold that had been living in her chest since her arrest began to thaw.

They held each other for a long time. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them could quite believe this was real.

Finally, Morgana pulled back slightly and guided Rowan into the chamber, closing the door behind them.

Rowan looked around at the room, at the beautiful furniture, the fine linens, the evidence of luxury and importance, and her eyes went wide.

"What is all this?" she breathed. "Where are we? Morgana, this is the royal wing!"

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