The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

"So first of all," Rowan began, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of having information to share, "there’s been absolutely insane drama in the servants’ quarters. You know that kitchen maid, Sarah? The quiet one? Well, she’s been sneaking out at night to see one of the guards. And I don’t just mean they’ve been having innocent conversations, Morgana. I mean full-on romantic involvement. They’ve been caught twice already, and Mistress Calla has threatened to have them both dismissed, but apparently the guard has connections, so nothing’s happened yet."

Morgana found herself drawn into the familiar rhythm of Rowan’s storytelling, the simple pleasure of hearing gossip and laughing at the complications of other people’s lives.

"And then there’s Margarette," Rowan continued, clearly enjoying Morgana’s rapt attention, "from the laundry. She’s been stealing fine linens. Not to use them, she’s been selling them to merchants outside the palace! Mistress Calla almost caught her last week with a bundle of table cloths, and Margarette just acted like they were stained and she was taking them to be cleaned elsewhere. It was ridiculous."

"How has she not been caught?" Morgana asked, momentarily distracted from her own troubles by the sheer audacity of the theft.

"That’s the thing," Rowan said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I think Mistress Calla knows. I think she’s known for weeks. But she hasn’t reported it because the linens Margarette is stealing are the ones that are supposedly ’lost’ in laundry anyway. So instead of Mistress Calla being blamed for missing linens, the linens are already accounted for, and Margarette gets a cut of the profit."

Morgana’s eyes widened. "Mistress Calla is part of the theft scheme?"

"I don’t know for certain," Rowan said. "But it seems suspicious. Why else would she let it continue?"

They talked for a while longer about the drama of the palace servants....relationships forming and ending, arguments over work assignments, minor thefts and schemes and the endless intricate politics of people living and working in close quarters.

It was familiar and comforting, and for a brief while, Morgana allowed herself to forget about her own complications and simply enjoy being present with her friend.

But then Rowan’s expression changed slightly.

"Speaking of strange things," Rowan said, her tone becoming more careful, "everyone’s been talking about what happened with the kings. Something happened in the training grounds. People are saying that one of them....they won’t say which one, had some kind of incident. Something to do with his transformation."

Morgana felt her entire body go rigid.

Rowan noticed immediately, her sharp eyes catching the sudden tension in her friend. "What? What’s wrong? I’m just saying what I heard...."

"Don’t," Morgana said, her voice suddenly sharp and forceful in a way that surprised them both. "Don’t talk about it."

Rowan blinked at her, clearly taken aback by the intensity of Morgana’s response. "What? Why not? Everyone’s talking about it..."

"We’re not supposed to," Morgana interrupted, her hands clenched into fists. "The kings forbade it. They ordered everyone not to speak about what happened. Anyone caught spreading rumors about the incident will face punishment."

Rowan’s expression changed from curiosity to genuine concern. She reached out and took one of Morgana’s clenched hands in her own.

"Morgana," she said gently, "what’s going on? Why are you so upset about the kings? Why do you care so much about what happened to them?"

Because I do, Morgana thought desperately. Because I can’t stop thinking about them. Because I’m terrified that one of them was hurt. Because I don’t understand what any of this means, and not knowing is driving me insane.

But she couldn’t say any of that.

"I don’t care," she said instead, forcing her expression into something closer to neutral. "I just... the palace has been strange lately. Everyone’s been tense. And if people start talking about things they’re not supposed to talk about, there will be consequences. For all of us."

Rowan watched her for a long moment, clearly not entirely believing her, but respecting her obvious distress enough not to press further.

"Okay," she said finally. "We won’t talk about them. But Morgana, if something’s wrong, if you need to talk to someone, I’m here. You know that, right?"

Morgana nodded, grateful for the offer even though she knew she couldn’t take Rowan up on it. Some things were too dangerous to share, even with her closest friend.

***

As if sensing that the conversation needed lightening, Rowan changed the subject.

"Come on," she said, pulling Morgana toward the feeding area. "Teach me how to do this properly. You’re always talking about how important it is to care for the animals correctly. Show me."

Morgana found herself being drawn back into the familiar rhythm of stable work, and somehow, with Rowan’s presence and her cheerful energy, it felt less isolating than it had before.

She taught her friend how to measure out grain, how to recognize a horse’s hunger signals, how to approach an unfamiliar animal with the proper respect and caution. Rowan was clumsy and laughed frequently at her own mistakes, but she was genuinely interested in learning, and her enthusiasm was infectious.

They moved from horse to horse, and Morgana found herself explaining not just the how of the work but the why. the importance of understanding each animal’s individual personality, of treating them as beings worthy of respect and care, of approaching the work with a kind of reverence for the responsibility of keeping another creature alive and well.

Rowan listened and learned, and gradually the tension that had been sitting in Morgana’s shoulders began to ease slightly.

When they reached Shadowmere’s stall, Rowan stopped and stared at the stallion.

"He’s magnificent," she breathed.

"He is," Morgana agreed. "He’s also one of the most temperamental horses in the stables. Most people are afraid of him."

"But you’re not," Rowan observed.

"No," Morgana said. "We have an understanding."

She led Rowan into the stall with Shadowmere, which caused her friend to tense slightly. But the stallion, as he always did with Morgana, submitted to their presence without protest. Rowan carefully fed him an apple slice under Morgana’s direction, and when Shadowmere’s soft muzzle tickled her palm, she laughed with genuine delight.

"He’s gentle," she said, surprised.

"With those he trusts," Morgana said. "And he’s learned to trust me."