The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch
Chapter 39: And Yet They Let You Touch Them

Chapter 39: And Yet They Let You Touch Them

"Nothing," she said, her voice shaking. "I just...I touched it. That’s all."

"You touched it."

"Yes."

"And it didn’t attack you."

"No."

Thorne stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then he exhaled slowly and lowered his hands.

"Come here," he said quietly. "Slowly. Don’t make any sudden movements."

Morgana took a step toward him.

The golden dragon rumbled, but it didn’t move.

She took another step.

Then another.

Until she was standing beside Thorne.

He grabbed her arm...not roughly, but firmly, and pulled her toward the door.

The dragons watched but didn’t follow.

When they were outside the chamber, Thorne closed the door and turned to face her.

His expression was a storm of shock, confusion, and something else.

Something she couldn’t name.

"Explain," he said, his voice tight. "Now."

Morgana swallowed. "I don’t know what to explain. I just....I wanted to see them. And when I touched one, it..."

"It calmed," Thorne finished.

She nodded.

Thorne ran a hand through his hair, pacing. "Do you understand what those dragons are?"

"Garrick said they were the kings’ dragons...."

"They’re not our dragons." Thorne’s voice was sharp. "They’re ancient ones. Warriors who fought in the wars centuries ago. Elders who chose to return to their true forms rather than hold onto their humanity. They’re revered. Honored. And they haven’t let anyone near them in decades."

Morgana’s chest tightened. "I didn’t know."

"And yet they let you touch them." Thorne stopped pacing and looked at her, his dark eyes burning with intensity. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

"No."

"Neither do I." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "But I intend to find out."

Morgana’s pulse raced. "Your Majesty..."

"Don’t." He held up a hand. "Don’t call me that. Not right now."

She fell silent.

Thorne studied her for a long moment, his expression conflicted.

Then he spoke, his voice quiet.

"You need to stay away from this tower."

"I will."

"I mean it, Morgana. If anyone else finds out what just happened, if my brothers find out..."

"They won’t," she said quickly. "I won’t tell anyone. I swear."

Thorne’s jaw tightened. "Good."

He turned to leave.

But before he did, he glanced back at her, and there was something in his eyes that made her breath catch.

"Who are you?" he asked softly.

Morgana didn’t have an answer.

And as Thorne walked away, disappearing into the shadows, she realized with a sinking certainty....

She didn’t know anymore.

***

The summons came the next evening.

Morgana was in the stables, brushing down one of the mares, when a palace guard appeared in the doorway.

Her stomach dropped.

"Morgana of Ashford?"

She set down the brush, her hands trembling. "Yes, sir?"

"King Kaelen requests your presence. Immediately."

The world tilted.

No.

Not again.

She opened her mouth to refuse, to say she was needed here, to make any excuse....

But the guard’s expression was cold. Unyielding.

"Now," he said.

She had no choice.

***

The walk to Kaelen’s chambers felt like a march to her own execution.

Morgana’s heart hammered with every step, her mind racing.

What does he want?

Why now?

What is he going to do?

She thought of the last time, the way his cold hands had touched her, the way he’d torn her chemise, the way he’d looked at her like she was something to be studied.

And the way Draeven had stopped him.

But Draeven wasn’t here now.

The guard stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and knocked once.

"Enter," came the voice from within.

Cold. Smooth. Unmistakable.

The guard opened the door and gestured for her to step inside.

Morgana did, her legs shaking.

The door closed behind her.

Kaelen stood by the window, his back to her, a glass of wine in his hand.

He was dressed simply...dark trousers, a white shirt unlaced halfway down his chest. His pale hair caught the firelight, making it glow like silver.

He looked... calm.

Too calm.

"Your Majesty," Morgana said, her voice barely steady.

"Morgana." He didn’t turn around. "I wasn’t sure you’d come."

"I didn’t have a choice."

"No." He took a sip of wine. "I suppose you didn’t."

The silence stretched, suffocating.

Finally, Kaelen set down his glass and turned to face her.

His pale eyes swept over her, taking in her dirty stable dress, her tangled hair, the exhaustion carved into her face.

His mouth curved slightly. "You look different."

"I’ve been working in the stables, Your Majesty."

"I know." He stepped closer. "And yet here you are. Still drawing attention."

Her pulse spiked. "I don’t know what you mean, Your Majesty."

"Don’t you?" His smile widened. "My brother has been brooding since the banquet. And Thorne... well. Thorne is being even more cryptic than usual."

He circled her slowly, the way he had before.

"And then there’s you," he continued. "A little stable girl who somehow managed to touch the ancient ones."

Morgana’s breath caught. "How did you....?"

"Thorne told us." Kaelen stopped in front of her. "He was quite shaken, actually. I’ve never seen him like that."

She didn’t know what to say.

Kaelen tilted his head, studying her. "So tell me, Morgana. What are you?"

"I’m nobody, Your Majesty."

"Wrong answer." He reached out and traced a finger along her jaw. "You’re something. I just haven’t figured out what yet."

His touch was cold, and Morgana fought the urge to pull away.

"That’s why you’re here," Kaelen said softly. "I need to understand you."

"Your Majesty...."

"Take off your dress."

The words were spoken calmly. Casually.

But they hit like a blow.

Morgana’s eyes widened. "What?"

"You heard me." Kaelen stepped back, his expression neutral. "Take it off."

"Your Majesty, I can’t...."

"You can. And you will." His voice didn’t rise, but there was steel beneath it. "Or you can leave. And I’ll have you dismissed from the palace entirely."

Her throat closed.

She thought of her mother. Of the medicine she still hadn’t been able to afford. Of the wages she desperately needed.

I have no choice.

With trembling hands, Morgana reached for the laces of her dress.