The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

The room went silent.

Not the quiet of inattention, but the silence of shock. Of realization that something far more serious than a simple accident had occurred.

"That’s impossible," Vivienne said flatly. "The kings have perfect control over their transformations. Everyone knows that."

"That’s what I thought too," Celeste said, her voice shaking slightly. "But the servant was certain. She said the warrior.....Captain Rhen, was nearly killed. That the king was... wild. Uncontrolled. Like he wasn’t entirely himself anymore."

"Which king?" Margaret asked urgently.

"She didn’t say. Or maybe she didn’t know. But she was terrified. Actually terrified. I’ve never seen a servant look like that before."

Eleanor, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "If a king lost control like that... wouldn’t that mean the curse is worsening? Wouldn’t that mean they’re running out of time?"

The implications of this hung in the air.

Seraphine’s expression had become grave. "The curse consuming the kings. That’s what the prophecy warned about, isn’t it? That eventually, the curse would consume them entirely, and they would be useless to the kingdom."

"Which would mean..." Vivienne trailed off, but they all understood the implication. Which would mean the kingdom would be without a throne. Without leadership. Without protection from enemies. Chaos. Collapse. Everything that the realm had feared for two centuries.

Celeste was speaking again, her voice growing more animated as she shared more details. "And the training grounds....they’ve been sealed off. No one can go within thirty feet. There are guards posted. It’s completely forbidden. Whatever happened there, the palace is trying very hard to hide it."

The daughters exchanged looks of shock and concern and fear.

For the first time in days, there was something other than boredom in the room. There was real, visceral worry about what all this meant for them, for the kingdom, for everything they had thought was stable and secure.

***

The room erupted.

Suddenly, everyone was talking at once, theories and fears and half-remembered details all tumbling out in a cacophony of worried voices.

"If the kings are losing control, what does that mean for the Selection?"

"Maybe they’re going to send us all home. Maybe they’ve given up."

"Maybe one of us IS the chosen one, and that’s why things are getting worse. Maybe the prophecy knows and the curse is responding...."

"That makes no sense. How would the curse know..."

"Maybe the girl is here. Maybe the Mother of Dragons is already in the palace, and the kings are responding to her presence..."

"What girl? There’s no girl..."

"There’s always a girl. Have you all forgotten that there’s some kind of servant or something that the kings have been watching. Haven’t you noticed?"

This last comment caused a shift in the conversation. Several of the daughters straightened, suddenly paying attention to a different thread of the discussion.

Vivienne’s sharp eyes narrowed. "I did notice," she said. "There’s a servant girl. She was working in the palace proper at first, and then she was reassigned to the stables. But the kings still seem to be interested in her. At the Selection Ball, King Draeven nearly...." She stopped herself, glancing around the room.

But they all understood what she had been about to say.

Draeven had nearly called for the servant girl. He had almost publicly summoned her to dance with him, despite the presence of all the noble daughters.

"What if she’s connected?" Seraphine asked quietly. "What if the servant girl is somehow connected to what happened in the training grounds?"

"How could she be?" Margaret asked. "She was in the stables. She has nothing to do with the kings’ training."

"Unless she does," Vivienne said slowly, her analytical mind clearly working through possibilities. "Unless she’s more than she appears. Unless she’s connected to everything that’s happening."

"You’re all being ridiculous," Eleanor said, but her voice was uncertain. "A servant girl can’t possibly affect the kings."

But even as she said this, doubt was evident in her tone. The possibility had been introduced, and now it hung in the air like a physical presence.

The conversation continued to spiral, building theories upon theories, each one more dramatic than the last. The kingdoms was collapsing. The curse was at its final stages. The prophecy was coming true. The chosen one was already here. The kings were losing control. The servants knew more than they were telling. The girl in the stables was the key to everything.

By the time the conversation had reached its peak, the entire room was in a state of anxious agitation. The calm, bored afternoon had transformed into something charged with worry and fear and desperate speculation.

Then Isolde stood.

The movement was small, but it commanded attention. Perhaps it was the way she rose...with absolute confidence and deliberate grace. Perhaps it was the fact that her pale blue eyes, when they swept across the room, held an authority that silenced the speculation almost immediately.

The room quieted.

All eyes turned to her.

Isolde walked to the center of the gathering, her pale blue gown seeming to glow in the afternoon light. When she spoke, her voice was sharp, commanding, brooking no argument.

"Enough," she said, the single word falling like a hammer. "This ends now."

The daughters fell silent, uncertain.

"We are not to speak of what happened in the training grounds," Isolde continued, her voice cold and precise. "The kings have explicitly forbidden it. Anyone caught discussing the incident, anyone who spreads rumors, anyone who speculates, anyone who dares to repeat gossip, will face punishment."

She let this sink in before continuing.

"Punishment," she repeated, and the word hung in the air like a threat. "Do you understand what that means? The kings are not in a patient mood. Their tolerance for servants and courtiers who disobey their direct commands is at its lowest point. The last thing any of us needs is to attract their negative attention."

Seraphine spoke up, her voice careful. "But surely they can’t punish the noble daughters for casual conversation...."