Page 15 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Arenna jolted awake with a metallic taste coating the inside of her mouth. Her limbs felt heavy and fatigued, her eyes too leaden to open. She swallowed, hoping the saliva would ease the dryness in her throat.

Sensations came to her slowly, one by one. She felt the cold, hard surface beneath her, heard the scuffling of feet, and smelled dust, blood, and dirt. She flexed her fingers until she could form a tight fist.

Panic set in quickly when she realized her wrists were strapped down, sending her heart rate racing.

She was shackled, and the painful memories of the night Jaksen gave her the scar flooded back. That’s when she noticed the darkness. No windows, no candles or sconces—only a dim light seeping through the crack beneath a large door.

Unwelcomed fear overtook her senses.

Arenna struggled against the manacles, flinching as cool iron bit into her skin. Though her scars had healed years ago, her wrists still felt raw, and each movement under the weight of iron became more excruciating.

She was back in that dungeon. The pain flared, searing her face and wrists. She was starving, bruised, broken. Images of Jaksen beating her and using her body played in her mind like a torturous, unending loop.

Then, the warmth she’d felt in the colosseum returned—rising from her belly, heating her core, and rushing down her arms. The iron manacles seared against her skin, glowing red before melting into small, silver puddles at her wrists.

Arenna stared, breath caught in her throat. The fear that had gripped her heart began to fade, replaced by a fierce, reverent wonder.

Flames slowly moved from her wrists to her hands, sparking until embers danced across her skin. “This can’t be real,” she whispered.

Flame. Fire. Magic . She could produce it— wield it.

Curiously, Arenna brought her hands together, merging the flames into one. It grew brighter, forcing out darkness as it cast a soft glow across the room. She slid off the concrete slab gently, afraid to have her only source of light wink out.

Using the small ball of light to examine her surroundings, she realized she had no idea where she was. It wasn’t a dungeon, though it certainly felt like one.

Her gaze landed on a small lantern sitting on a table across the room.

She approached it cautiously, terrified to let the flame flicker out.

She had no idea where the fire had come from; and it only seemed to surface in moments of intense emotion.

Arenna wasn’t sure she could summon it again if it faded.

With her fear of the dark and no weapons at hand, that wasn’t an option.

Placing her hand inside the lantern, Arenna watched in amazement as the fire transferred from her palm to the wick, swiftly igniting and illuminating the remainder of the room.

The space was massive—filled with slabs like the one she had woken on, and shelves packed with jars of various shapes, each containing colorful liquids or unsettling chunks of something she didn’t dare investigate.

Parchments, covered in poorly scrawled notes and drawings, plastered the walls. Cabinets stood open, revealing tools and small items like needles, tweezers, shears, and forceps. Arenna grabbed the shears, gripping them tightly. When eventually that door opened, she wouldn’t be caught unprepared.

Bringing a hand to her forehead, she caught a flash of white.

She was dressed in a floor-length nightgown, nearly translucent, with gauzy sleeves covering her shoulders.

Her hair had been washed and neatly braided behind her head.

She shivered—not from cold, but from the ghostly sensation of hands stripping her from her old gown and placing her in a new one.

Remembering the door, Arenna moved toward it, careful not to let her steps be heard. She wiggled the doorknob, her stomach plummeting when it didn’t budge.

Dread churned in her belly as she continued to scan the room. Iron cages, both large and small, lined one wall—some still stained with blood. Arenna forced herself not to dwell on who— or what —had been in those cages.

Her eyes landed on a drawing near a row of cages, forcing her breath to hitch in her throat.

Druque.

A wave of dizziness almost knocked her off her feet. Memories came flooding back, crashing into her all at once—the stench of blood, the sound of flesh being torn apart. Her head throbbed with visions of druque and the horrors they unleashed.

But most of all, she remembered Faylen’s fate. How could she have forgotten?

Arenna dropped to her knees, a sob forming in her throat. Her sister was gone— dead . Tears spilled from her eyes, splattering against the floor. Her heart felt like it was being torn wide open, the pain raw and overwhelming.

It had been so long since their mother’s passing that Arenna had nearly forgotten what it felt like to lose someone she loved.

She stared at her trembling hands, knowing the power that now burned beneath her skin.

She had gained strength, but at what cost?

Faylen was gone, torn apart in such a horrific manner that she was unrecognizable.

“Are you finished wailing?” A man’s voice cut through her cries. She gasped, eyes burning. The sound of heavy boots echoed across the tiled floor, and she knew Jaksen was behind the voice long before he stepped into the light.

When he finally emerged from the shadows, all she felt was pain. He looked regal, unbothered—dressed in a red suit that reminded her too much of blood. His crown was polished, perfectly centered in his platinum hair, and his eyes were darker than ever.

“You’re finally awake,” Jaksen said, a smirk lifting the corners of his lips. His gaze drifted to the table and the puddles of molten metal left behind. “And free of your shackles. Clever girl, Arenna.”

She hadn’t expected to feel such a deep ache in her chest at the sight of her husband, nor for the sound of his voice to wound her so deeply. Everything Jaksen had ever done to her felt like nothing compared to this. “Get away from me,” she whispered.

Jaksen smiled. “I can hardly stand to be apart from you, Little Dove.”

“Where am I? Why am I here?”

“So many questions.”

Heat throbbed beneath her skin. Arenna used every ounce of restraint not to let it erupt again—not until she had every answer she needed. “ Where am I? ” she hissed.

“My laboratory.” Jaksen leaned casually against one of the concrete slabs. “This is where all my research happens. My experiments. It’s where I created the druque.”

Arenna swallowed hard. “And why am I here?” she repeated.

He tilted his head. “Because you, my love, are a bit of a mystery. And I intend to figure you out.”

Images of those terrifying creatures flashed through her mind—gray skin, sharp talons, fangs that tore through flesh like butter. “What are the druque?”

“Ah, I was hoping they might pique your interest.” Jaksen moved toward a door at the back of the room, cranking it open with a grin. “I do love to brag.”

Reluctantly, Arenna followed.

Jaksen unlatched the door, its iron hinges creaking as it swung wide.

Vomit clawed at her throat as her eyes took in the violence and horror that lay beyond, and she realized she was not going to survive this man.