Chapter 54: She Is A Threat To All Of Us
If he did this, if he publicly summoned her, if he made it obvious that he had chosen a servant girl over the daughters of the realm’s most powerful families...
He would be placing Morgana in the crosshairs.
And the noble daughters...particularly Isolde, would make her pay for that.
Draeven took a breath.
Then he turned back toward the dance floor.
"Petyr," he called quietly, before his servant could reach the shadows where Morgana stood.
Petyr turned immediately, understanding that his orders had changed.
"Resume your post," Draeven said, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion.
He took a step back toward the high table, his entire body rigid with the effort of restraint.
But as he turned back to resume his formal duties, he allowed himself one last glance across the ballroom.
At Morgana.
Their eyes met for just a moment.
Just a fraction of a second.
But in that moment, something passed between them, something raw and powerful and undeniable.
Recognition.
Desire.
I’m sorry, his gaze seemed to say.
***
Lady Isolde had watched the entire exchange from across the ballroom.
She had seen Draeven gesture to his manservant. She had seen Cedric intercept. She had seen the urgent conversation between the king and his advisor. She had seen Draeven turn back, his face controlled but his eyes burning with suppressed fury.
And she had followed his gaze.
To Morgana.
Standing in the shadows. Holding a wine tray. Dressed as a servant.
Isolde’s hands clenched into fists at her sides.
So it’s true, she thought, her mind working rapidly, piecing together all the rumors she’d heard, all the whispers from the servants, all the signs she’d noticed but tried to dismiss.
He was going to call for her. He was actually going to publicly summon a servant girl to dance. In front of all of us.
A flush of red colored her face.
It was humiliation. Pure, white-hot humiliation.
She had been paraded before the kings all month. She had danced with them, conversed with them, tried to charm them. And they had looked at her with indifference.
But her....this nobody, this common-born servant with nothing to recommend her, this girl got the attention that Isolde could not.
This girl had so captured the king’s interest that he had nearly violated all protocol to dance with her.
This girl had to be dealt with.
Permanently.
When the ball finally ended, Isolde retreated to a private room with her most trusted allies.
Lady Vivienne arrived first, her expression curious.
Lady Seraphine followed, her exhaustion evident in every movement.
And then Lady Celeste, looking nervous and pale.
Isolde closed the door behind them and locked it.
"Did you see that?" she said, her voice low and furious. "Did you all see what just happened?"
"The king was about to summon her," Vivienne said calmly. "Yes. We all saw."
"How is she even here?" Seraphine asked, confusion evident on her face. "I was told that the servants working at the ball were selected days ago. How did a stable girl end up serving at the Selection Ball?"
It was a good question.
A very good question.
Isolde’s eyes narrowed as she considered it.
"That," she said slowly, "is something I intend to find out."
She moved to the window and looked out at the dark palace grounds below, her jaw tight, her expression cold.
"But first," she continued, "we need to ensure that she never gets another opportunity like this. We need to ensure that the king never gets the chance to publicly favor her again."
"How?" Celeste asked nervously. "She’s not even in the palace proper anymore. She’s...."
"I know where she is," Isolde interrupted coldly. "And I know exactly what to do."
She turned to face her allies, and her smile was terrifying.
"We destroy her," Isolde said simply. "We take everything from her....her reputation, her position, her hope. We make sure that no king would ever want to look at her again."
"How do we do that?" Vivienne asked, genuinely curious.
Isolde’s smile widened.
"We plant evidence against her. We find something...something stolen, something damning, something that will prove she’s a criminal. And then we ensure that she’s accused publicly, in front of the entire court."
Seraphine looked troubled. "If we do this, if we frame an innocent woman for theft..."
"She’s not innocent," Isolde snapped. "She’s a threat to all of us. She’s trying to seduce the kings, trying to insert herself into power where she doesn’t belong. She deserves whatever comes to her."
Celeste was quiet, her young face troubled.
But she said nothing.
Because they all knew that Isolde was right about one thing: if this servant girl could somehow capture the kings’ attention, if she could somehow become significant, then she represented a threat to all their futures.
Better to eliminate her now.
Better to ensure she never had another chance.
"Very well," Vivienne said, nodding slowly. "If this is the path we’re taking, I’m with you."
"As am I," Seraphine added, though her expression suggested she was not entirely comfortable with the decision.
And Celeste, terrified and guilty but powerless to resist the will of the group, simply nodded her agreement.
And just like that, the fate of Morgana had been sealed.
***
After the ball ended, after the nobility had departed and the servants had begun the long work of cleaning the ballroom, Cedric remained.
He stood in the center of the space, watching as servants moved efficiently through the room, gathering abandoned gloves and dropped hairpins, sweeping confetti from the floor, removing the flower arrangements that had begun to wilt.
The ballroom, in its current state, looked almost sad.
The magic of the evening had faded, leaving only an empty space marked by the remnants of celebration.
Cedric thought about what he’d just witnessed.
Draeven’s impulse control nearly breaking.
The king so desperate to reach Morgana that he’d almost thrown aside all protocol.
That told him everything he needed to know.