Chapter 167: I Think You Should Inform The Kings First

But then her expression became more serious, and she pulled Morgana to sit down on the window seat beside her again. Her voice took on the tone of someone giving crucial advice:

"Those pathetic bitches used to act high and mighty before. Now they want to grovel and win you over. But Morgana..."

Rowan’s hand found hers again. "I think you should inform the kings first. Because who knows what those noble bitches are planning to do again. They might be trying another trap."

Morgana shook her head immediately.

"I will handle it myself," she said, her voice firm in a way that Rowan had rarely heard from her. "I don’t have to inform the kings."

And as she spoke those words, something shifted inside her.

Her eyes flashed with color....actual fire, the gold and orange of her magic responding to her anger and her determination to reclaim agency over her own life. The flame that lived in her blood rose up in response to her declaration of independence, and for just a moment, her eyes burned with a light that was not human.

The moment was brief.

If Rowan hadn’t blinked, she would have seen it. The flash of color lasted only an instant before Morgana regained control, pulling the magic back down into the depths of herself where it belonged. The gold faded from her eyes, replaced by the ordinary brown that was her everyday color.

Rowan did not see it.

Or if she did, her tired mind interpreted it as nothing more than the afternoon light playing tricks on her eyes, the sun catching her friend’s gaze at just the right angle to create an illusion of something that was not there.

Morgana continued, her voice steady: "I fell into their trap once. I won’t do it again."

Rowan studied her friend’s face for a long moment.

Something had changed in Morgana. There was something in her expression now that had not been there before...a determination, a firmness, a suggestion that she was becoming something more than she had been. It made her look older somehow, despite her youth.

"Be careful," Rowan said finally, her voice carrying the weight of genuine concern. "Just be careful. Make sure you don’t take anything from them. Don’t eat their food, don’t drink their drinks, don’t accept gifts. Understand?"

Morgana nodded, understanding the severity of the warning. The memory of the conspiracy, of being framed, of the weight of false accusation, was still fresh enough to make caution necessary.

"I understand," Morgana said.

Rowan stood, checking the position of the light outside the window. The afternoon was progressing, moving toward evening, moving toward the time when she needed to be back in the servants’ quarters preparing for dinner preparations.

"I need to leave now," Rowan said, her voice becoming urgent. "It will be time to start preparing dinner, and that old harridan Calla will talk my ears off if I get to the kitchen late."

The mundane reality of servant life intruded on their time together.....duties and schedules and the endless obligations that bound servants to their work.

Morgana was reluctant to let her friend go.

But she nodded anyway, understanding that Rowan must return to her duties, understanding that their time together was bounded by the requirements of palace life.

***

Both of them stood simultaneously, drawing toward each other for one final embrace.

Rowan held Morgana tightly, and Morgana held her friend back just as fiercely, trying to compress the weight of everything she wanted to say....thank you, I love you, please don’t leave me, I’m afraid, I’m lost, I need you, into the simple act of holding on.

Finally, Rowan released her and stepped back.

"I’ll come back tomorrow evening," she said, and the promise in her voice was sacred. "I want to hear about this tea meeting. Will you tell me everything?"

Morgana nodded, managing a small smile despite the heaviness in her heart. "Everything."

Rowan smiled back, that familiar smile that had anchored Morgana through countless moments of uncertainty, countless moments when the world felt like it was falling apart.

"Be smart, Morgana," Rowan said as she moved toward the door. "Be careful. And remember..."

She paused at the threshold, turning back one final time.

"Remember that you have more power than you think."

The words landed with unexpected weight.

Before Morgana could respond, Rowan was gone, her footsteps echoing down the corridor, the sound gradually fading until there was only silence.

Morgana closed the door softly behind her friend.

***

The chamber seemed even emptier after Rowan’s departure.

Morgana moved back to the window seat, drawn to it as if it were a sanctuary of thought and reflection. The sun was lower now, approaching the western mountains, turning the sky into shades of fire and blood. The light painted everything in hues of gold and red, creating long shadows across the palace grounds below.

She looked at her reflection in the glass.

The beautiful gown. The braided hair with its crown of dried flowers. The appearance of someone who belonged in this world of power and privilege and careful protocol.

But her eyes told a different story.

Her eyes showed something that had not been there that morning. Determination. Awareness.

Tomorrow she would face the noble daughters at their tea.

She would do it on her own terms, not as the kings’ ward but as Morgana. She would face them with the knowledge that they were trying to manipulate her, trying to rebuild their position, trying to use her newly elevated status for their own purposes.

And she would not fall into their trap.

But there were other questions that remained unanswered. Questions about her how she would be able to visit her mother.

She pressed her hand against the window glass.

The cool contact grounded her, pulled her back from the spiral of her own thoughts. Outside, the palace was settling into evening. Servants were moving between buildings, preparing for the night’s meals and duties. Guards were changing positions on the walls. The endless machinery of a kingdom was moving forward, unconcerned with the small dramas and transformations happening within its walls.