The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch
Chapter 18: He Was Staring At You

Chapter 18: He Was Staring At You

"Well, they’re not going to get them if he keeps looking at..." The blonde woman stopped mid-sentence, her gaze shifting.

Morgana followed her gaze instinctively.

And realized with a jolt of horror that the woman was staring at her.

No.

Not at her.

Past her.

At the high table.

Where Draeven was once again staring directly at Morgana.

The blonde woman’s eyes went cold.

"Interesting," she murmured.

Morgana’s stomach dropped.

She stepped back quickly, turning away, her heart hammering in her chest.

No. No, no, no.

She shouldn’t have looked.

She shouldn’t have let herself be seen.

She moved toward the kitchens, desperate to put distance between herself and the high table, but she could still feel it.

His gaze.

Burning.

Relentless.

***

By the time the banquet finally ended, Morgana was exhausted.

Her feet ached. Her back ached. Her hands were raw from carrying trays and flagons all night.

But worse than the physical pain was the knot of fear coiled tight in her chest.

He had been watching her.

The king had been watching her.

And one of the noble daughters had noticed.

Morgana helped clear the last of the plates, her movements mechanical, and followed the other serving girls back toward the kitchens.

Rowan fell into step beside her, her face pale.

"Did you see...?" she started.

"Not here," Morgana murmured.

Rowan nodded and fell silent.

They deposited their trays in the kitchens, removed their aprons, and made their way back through the winding corridors toward the servants’ quarters.

The palace was quieter now. The nobles had retired to their chambers, and the night watch had taken their posts.

Morgana and Rowan walked in silence, too tired to talk.

It wasn’t until they reached the dormitory, until they were safely inside with the door closed behind them that Rowan finally spoke.

"He was staring at you," she whispered.

Morgana sank onto her cot, her hands shaking. "I know."

"The king, Morgana. The first king. He barely looked at any of those noble daughters, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you."

"I know."

"Why?"

"I don’t know." Morgana buried her face in her hands. "I don’t know, Rowan."

"One of them noticed. That blonde girl in the blue dress. I saw her looking at you."

Morgana’s stomach twisted. "I know."

Rowan sat down beside her, her voice low and urgent. "This is bad, Morgana. If they think you’re trying to...if they think you’re drawing his attention...."

"I’m not." Morgana’s voice was sharp. "I didn’t do anything. I kept my head down. I didn’t even look at him."

"But he looked at you."

Morgana swallowed hard. "I can’t control what he does."

"No. But they’ll blame you anyway."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.

Morgana knew she was right.

It didn’t matter that she hadn’t done anything. It didn’t matter that she’d been invisible, obedient, careful.

All that mattered was what they thought.

And if the noble daughters thought she was a threat...

"I need air," Morgana said suddenly, standing.

Rowan’s eyes widened. "What? Now? Morgana, it’s past curfew...."

"I don’t care. I can’t...I can’t breathe in here."

"If you get caught..."

"I’ll be careful." Morgana grabbed her cloak from the trunk at the foot of her bed. "I just need a few minutes. I’ll be back before anyone notices."

Rowan looked like she wanted to argue, but something in Morgana’s face must have stopped her.

She sighed. "Fine. But if you’re not back in half an hour, I’m coming to find you."

Morgana managed a weak smile. "Deal."

She slipped out of the dormitory and into the darkened corridor beyond.

She didn’t know where she was going.

She just needed to move.

Needed to escape the suffocating weight of the dormitory, the fear clawing at her chest, the memory of those burning gold eyes watching her.

She found herself descending a narrow staircase, following it down and down until she emerged into a long, covered walkway.

And beyond it, through an open archway, she saw the gardens.

Morgana stepped outside.

The night air hit her like a blessing, cool and clean and smelling faintly of earth and flowers. The gardens stretched out before her, shadowed and still, lit only by the pale light of the moon.

She walked deeper into the garden, following a winding path between hedges and flower beds, until she reached a small clearing.

She stopped, pressing her hands to her chest, trying to steady her breathing.

It’s fine. You’re fine. Tomorrow you’ll be more careful. You’ll avoid the high table. You’ll....

A candle in a nearby lantern flared suddenly, the flame leaping higher than it should.

Morgana flinched.

No.

She looked down at her hands. They were trembling. And beneath her skin, she could feel it...the heat, the fire, rising.

Not now. Not here.