Page 12 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

She turned slowly, her hand drifting to her thigh where her dagger was during training, cursing herself for not being brave enough to keep it on her tonight.

In the shadows of the terrace, the emissary from Forx leaned casually against a doorframe, holding a glass at his side.

The more they spent in one another’s presence, the more Arenna realized there was something about him that felt familiar, whether it was his demeanor or his features, she didn’t know.

But she felt a tug toward him, as if his presence alone demanded her attention.

“Emissary,” she greeted coolly, though her stomach was knotted. Had he heard everything with Faylen? Did he know her plans? “I’m starting to think you’re purposely putting yourself in my path.”

The scent of rain hit her. Arenna glanced up at the cloudless sky, confused by where the sudden smell had come from.

Kayson stepped closer, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I have no interest in following you around like a lost dog.”

Arenna scoffed. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer some privacy.”

He moved into the light, golden eyes gleaming beneath the moon. Arenna stared before turning away.

“I don’t particularly care what you prefer,” Kayson replied.

“You’re talking to your queen, Emissary .” She turned to meet his gaze, looking up to do so since her head barely reached the center of his chest.

“You are no queen of mine,” he whispered, the words so faint she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

Annoyance surged through her. “You live in Varios, in one of the main Houses, and yet I am not your queen?” He was a fool, and there was no point in finishing this conversation. Arenna scoffed and began walking away, but did not make it four strides before footsteps sounded behind her.

Kayson closed the distance between them in a couple of strides, wrapping a hand around her wrist to prevent her from moving.

She whirled to face him. “Release my arm,” Arenna snapped.

His chest rose and fell, nostrils flaring. “Where were you born, Arenna Steele?”

“What?” she scoffed.

“Where were you born?” he repeated.

“Craydon Port.” The port no longer existed, reduced to rubble and ash by the Red Reaper. Arenna buried the sting of painful memories.

Kayson seized her right hand, turning it palm up. He studied it for a moment, jaw tightening.

Dumbfounded, she watched as he ran his thumb across her palm as if searching for something only he could see. “You are a filthy liar,” he whispered.

“I beg your pardon?” Arenna retorted. “I am no such thing.” She yanked her hand free, gathering the skirt of her burgundy gown. “Do not touch me,” she snarled, but that fire disappeared.

Fear clawed at her throat.

If Jaksen caught her out here with the emissary after what happened with Lord Bishop, she was certain she wouldn’t live to see another day. And she wouldn’t let Kayson ruin her one chance at freedom.

His lips curled into a smirk as he said, “You are exactly what I imagined you to be.”

“Spend a fair amount of time thinking about me, do you?” she purred. Rage twisted his handsome features. “I don’t know what you think of me, but you should remember your place. Now, get out of my way.” She stepped around Kayson’s large frame, anger coiling deep within her.

Despite every instinct telling her not to look back, she did, surprised to find him still watching her. Half his face was cloaked in shadows, the other illuminated by outdoor lanterns. Rage radiated from him, surrounding him like an aura.

Arenna slammed into solid muscle. Jaksen stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on Kayson.

“My king,” Arenna sputtered, heart racing. “Did the celebration end?”

Blue eyes shifted to hers before flicking back to Kayson. “Emissary,” he said, ignoring her question. Jaksen placed a hand on Arenna’s back, pulling her in. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight? It’s my favorite event of the year.”

Kayson dipped his chin, muscles straining. “I am. Thank you. As it is mine. We must never forget the human rebellion or their sacrifice.”

“You’re right about that.” Jaksen smiled, satisfaction radiating from him. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a moment with my wife.”

“Of course.” Kayson departed without another word, and though he was crude, Arenna hated watching him leave. She needed him as her shield. Without a witness, who knew what Jaksen would do?

Surprisingly, Jaksen smiled at her. “You look beautiful.” He drew her close, kissing her thoroughly.

When they broke apart, Arenna’s gaze drifted toward the doors, where Isabella stood in the frame, her eyes searching for answers to a silent question: Do you need help ?

Yes .

But the queen did not respond truthfully, instead she shook her head with a smile. Isabella’s features softened, but she dipped her chin in command and slipped back into the party.

Though taken aback and brimming with fear, Arenna smiled up at her husband. “And you look as handsome as ever.” She had to play her part and capitalize on this rare, good mood. There was too much at stake to blow it.

In the stillness of the night, music from the ballroom floated to them. Jaksen pulled her tightly against his chest. “Dance with me?”

“Here? Don’t you wish to go inside?”

“I prefer you all to myself, Little Dove.” He placed her arms around his neck, wrapping his around her waist. “I did what was necessary. You understand that, yes?”

She swallowed hard. “Of course.” Arenna exhaled, letting her head fall to his chest to hide the emotions etched on her face.

Silence stretched between them until Jaksen spoke again. “Have you healed?”

Arenna looked up into his icy blue eyes, shocked to find no familiar darkness spreading from his pupils. They were just icy blue—the same color she had once fallen for as a young girl.

Sadness suffocated her. Not enough to sway her plans, but enough to create an ache in her heart. She was going to leave her husband, the man she once loved more than anything. Not her abuser, not the master manipulator, not the Serpent King—just Jaksen.

Her Jaksen.

She mourned him every day she breathed.

Four years ago, when the abuse first started, the look in his eyes might have been enough to make her stay, to make her forgive him.

There had been a time when she believed he truly made mistakes, and that their love was strong enough to conquer the hate for her festering within him.

To her horror, she eventually learned that was not the case.

He was not making mistakes, and it took her far too long to stop excusing his behavior simply because she loved him and hoped the man she knew was still there. The man who brushed her hair behind her ear, who held the door open for her. The husband she found comfort, passion, and kindness in.

Arenna wanted to believe that deep down, something good remained within him. She always hoped the man she fell for was still there, but hope could only take her so far.

“Yes, I’ve healed,” she replied dryly.

Jaksen halted their dance but maintained a gentle grip on her hand, leading her toward the stone railing. “I’m sorry for what happened,” he said, pressing her against the cool surface.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. His tone sounded so sincere, she almost believed him.

“I truly am sorry,” Jaksen continued, glancing around the gardens to ensure they were alone. Malsen and Tylen, his personal guard, stood near the ballroom entrance but far enough to remain oblivious. “If you would just listen to me, I wouldn’t have to act as I did. Do you understand?”

There it was—the manipulation she knew all too well. “I understand,” she replied, rage simmering beneath her sadness.

“Good.” Jaksen cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Arenna. I only want what’s best for you. For us . It shouldn’t have gone that far.”

It shouldn’t have happened at all . Bile twisted in her throat. “I know you do. And I appreciate your lessons.”

A smile spread across his thin lips as he leaned closer. “I really, truly love you, Little Dove.” He pressed her hand to his mouth, planting a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I hope you can forgive me.”

“Sometimes, I wish you never became king,” she admitted. “We could have run off together, like we always talked about. Far away from this place, your parents, and the war.”

Jaksen’s jaw tightened, as did his grip on her hand. She hoped she hadn’t said too much, but it was the truth. Arenna often dreamed of their plans as children, and now she mourned the man she had lost to darkness.

Jaksen had taken up a new hobby in the North Tower of the castle, a place Arenna was forbidden to enter. He never spoke of his so-called studies, and she knew better than to press. Whatever he was working on had to be wrong—something dark, something that should have been left untouched.

Day by day, the man she had known chipped away.

He was no longer thoughtful, generous, or pleasant to be around.

He became colder, more distant, angrier.

About a year into his studies, Arenna noticed physical changes, too.

His skin grew paler, almost sickly, though he remained handsome.

His hair lightened and thickened, and his icy eyes darkened when his mood shifted.

She would never forget the first time Jaksen’s jealousy revealed something unnatural in him.

When he found her speaking with a nobleman from the South in a crowded library, he lost control.

His eyes transformed—webbed, jagged, and black, exactly like the Rot looked as it seeped into the ocean from the shoreline.

Arenna suppressed a shudder at the memory.

His lips parted, and he sighed. “I wish that too,” he said, resting his forehead against her temple. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Some small, some big, and others…” His voice trailed off. “Others I would kill to erase. I haven’t been fair to you or treated you how you deserve.”

The pain in her chest was almost unbearable. She couldn’t recall how many nights she had wept in her bedroom, begging the Sisters to hear these very words. “Where is this coming from?” Arenna asked.

“I went too far this time.” His features softened. “It’s important you learn from your mistakes, but I shouldn’t have hurt you like that. Aiwin told me it was a miracle you survived after losing so much blood.” Jaksen ran a hand through her hair. “I almost lost you.”

The young girl who had once been so happy and in love with the prince screamed from within her. No matter how long she lived, she feared that part of her would never fade. She wanted to believe him, wanted things to return to how they once were.

But the woman who had survived years of abuse stood in his presence, and she wouldn’t fall for a single word he uttered.

His fingers twisted into her unbound hair, pulling her mouth inches from his. Arenna stiffened, panic rising as his breath warmed her cheeks. There was nothing she could do to stop him. The only way to ensure she would see tomorrow was to give in and play along.

And that’s exactly what she did.

Arenna let him draw her close, let his lips consume hers. His tongue found its way against hers, parting her mouth further as his hands tightened around her waist.

Every inch of her screamed. This wasn’t the first time she had wished to be anywhere else but had submitted. But with her freedom so close—only hours away—this felt more like a prison than a dance. She hated this. She didn’t want this.

A throat cleared behind them, and Jaksen pushed away from her with such force that she was left breathless and dazed. Her hand clamped over her mouth to stifle a whimper.

“What in the Sorrows do you want?” Jaksen snapped, turning. “Could this not have waited?”

“We think we’ve found them .” Though the voice was low and hushed, it was familiar. “In Greenford.”

Arenna turned to find Koltin’s worried eyes locked on hers, his hand gripping the serpent pommel of his sword, knuckles ghostly white.

Jaksen stilled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He turned back to her. “To be continued?”

“Definitely.” She kissed the tip of his nose. Heart thrashing, she watched every step he took, fearful he might change his mind and finish what he started.

Jaksen and Koltin moved toward the ballroom entrance, leaving Arenna alone in the darkness. She didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Silence pressed in, thick and heavy. She kept expecting his footsteps to return, for his voice to echo through the balcony, cold and sharp. Her body remained tense, bracing for the return that never came.

Only when the door shut behind them did she finally let out a breath—but it did little to calm her. Panic still coiled in her chest, and her hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

Pain suddenly sliced across her palms. Blood welled where her nails had dug into her skin, and she hadn’t even realized she’d been clenching her fists.

Arenna cursed herself under her breath, then closed her hands again, trapping the blood inside until she could make it to her chambers.

She needed to bathe—needed to wash away her husband’s oily touch.