Page 16 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

A man—no, a male, because Fae were not mortal men. They were primal, massive, and lethal. While not technically immortal, it remained a mystery just how long they could live. Born with natural healing abilities, their bodies could recover from most wounds.

She imagined this male hated that ability now as he hung chained to the wall, his arms stretched high above his head that hung limp between his broad shoulders.

Whoever he was, wherever he came from in Vlazias, it was undeniable what species he was.

Her eyes traced his large—yet frail—body, lingering on his pointed ears and hollowed cheekbones.

He was deathly pale, his purple veins visible beneath ghostly skin, as if there wasn’t a drop of blood left in him.

“Fae,” she whispered. Fae were bigger, stronger, and naturally more beautiful than any human.

Even after enduring unspeakable torture, this male was still all those things. “What have you done?”

She struggled to make sense of the potions and tools, the cages, and the Fae male before her—how it all connected to the druque. Until her gaze fell on the needle piercing his skin, with thick tubes draining his blood into a large glass case.

“Their blood?” she rasped, bringing a hand to her mouth as she backed away. “You created druque with Fae blood.”

Jaksen smiled. “Almost. The druque were a happy accident, not my original intent.” He shut the door to the broken Fae and moved to a row of drawers, pulling out a leather-bound book.

“When a Fae is fully drained of blood, they turn into the creatures you saw in the colosseum—violent, hungry for flesh, desperate for the blood their bodies are deprived of.”

Arenna’s heart felt unbearably heavy, as if Jaksen’s words were finally breaking her apart. Everything he had done, everything he had learned led to countless enemy lives lost to fuel his twisted experiments.

She shouldn’t feel bad. She should be thankful that there was one less Fae roaming this side of the continent. But this felt wrong.

“You created monsters by draining Fae,” Arenna repeated, needing to hear the words out loud to fully grasp their meaning. “And you discovered this, how? Why were you draining them in the first place?”

A sinister smile crept across Jaksen’s pale face, curdling what little remained in her belly. “It all started with curiosity. We were never going to win the war against Vlazias as mere humans. Our weapons, numbers, strength, our lack of magic could never compete with the Fae.”

Arenna watched closely as his hands flipped through the worn pages of an old text. He turned toward her, extending a hand and motioning for her to come closer. Its script was faded and smudged in many places, but two words stood out, boldly preserved. “Read this,” he instructed.

“ Blood magic .” Arenna’s voice barely rose above a whisper. She’d heard the term before, but always thought it was a myth. He was experimenting with Fae blood based on a myth?

“I started researching,” Jaksen continued, “spending morning and night in the library, desperate to find anything that could even the playing field. Then, as if the text called to me, I found it deep within the archives—like a gift left for me by my ancestors.”

“I don’t understand,” Arenna whispered, clutching the fabric over her chest as her heart pounded.

Jaksen’s hands slid up and down her arms as he leaned in. “Blood magic was created by humans.”

“That’s not possible—”

“I thought so, too,” Jaksen interrupted.

“Until I found this.” He pointed to a section of the yellowed pages.

“It was created by a man named Zander Harlowe, dating back to the dawn of our world. He was the First King of Brookworth’s alchemist. He devoted his life to empowering humans to fight the Fae.

Everything in here—his experiments, his discoveries—explains how to harvest blood and use it to create powers of our own. ”

“Powers of our own?” Arenna ran both hands through her hair, the pieces finally falling into place. “You found a way to give humans powers through blood magic.” It wasn’t a question—it was a grim realization.

“ Exactly .” Jaksen clapped his hands together, his delight almost sickening. “They can no longer overpower us. With my experiments, I’ve discovered blood magic is stronger than multiple Fae abilities.”

“How do you know that?” Arenna’s stomach churned. Fae magic wasn’t something created or conjured—it was woven into their very being. Their blood brimmed with it. To use it this way felt wrong. Terribly wrong.

“The males in the colosseum,” Jaksen replied casually, as if discussing an ordinary test, not lives. “Prisoners of war, but also my experiments. I tested the magic myself against them, and they couldn’t defeat me.”

Arenna gripped the edge of the concrete slab to steady herself. Blood was roaring in her ears, muffling the world around her.

Jaksen leaned in, placing a hand over hers, his voice dripping with triumph. “Do you know what this means, Arenna?”

She did, and the thought made her feel sick all over again.

“With this knowledge, with this power, I can harvest Fae blood and give it to humans. I can make a human more powerful than a Fae . We can finally win, Arenna. We can take back what is ours.”

“Take back what is ours?” Her voice trembled.

“This world was never ours.” She shook her head, her pulse racing.

“Our ancestors came to Pheanixios from distant lands. It was built for everyone—Fae, human, Draka, and Medryds alike. The Sisters created this world with the hope that all species would live together in peace.”

Jaksen laughed; a sharp, bitter sound. “That’s a myth, spun by weak-minded fools who can’t handle the truth.

The real legends, written in our own library, show that the goddesses wanted humans to cower before the Fae,” he spat.

“The Draka fell to the power of the Fae. The Medryds too.” He gripped the edge of the slab, his knuckles white.

“I won’t allow our people to face the same extinction. ”

It had been so long since Arenna had heard anyone speak of those species, both wiped out in the First War . The Draka—people of fire and dragons—had once ruled the mountains. The Medryds, who controlled the seas, were fierce and animalistic, hunting with an intensity unmatched by any other.

She placed a hand on Jaksen’s arm, hoping to reach the man she once knew beneath the layers of ambition and cruelty. “If there is peace, that fear wouldn’t exist. If you unite the continents like you’ve always planned, there would be no threat to any species.”

“We will never cower to their magic again.” Jaksen towered over her, his dominating presence palpable, and shamefully, it struck fear into Arenna’s core. “We were slaves once, Arenna,” he growled. “I will not allow that to happen again.”

“I don’t want that either,” she said, her voice shaking. “But if you end this war, there won’t be anything left to threaten us.”

Jaksen’s sneer deepened, his gaze dark and unyielding. “My ancestors wouldn’t stand for that, and I will see to it that I fulfill their vision. I’ll reunite the continents and reign over both humans and Fae.”

Reunite the continents ? Her heart sank. “You’re talking about the prophecy,” she murmured, desperate to reason with him. “You truly believe it’s real? That beings with elemental power can rejoin continents?”

“How could it not be real?” he purred, taking her hand in his. He kissed the tips of her fingers, turning her palm upwards to press his lips to the tender skin of her wrist. “Lord Bishop was right. You have fire within.”

Arenna yanked her hand away, disgusted. “I will not help you do this.” A low, familiar hum began vibrating deep in her belly, the fire stirring, eager to erupt. “I thought you wanted peace. I thought—”

“Peace for our people, yes.”

She shook her head, her chest tightening. “History will repeat itself. If you succeed, the Fae will rebel. Whether it’s tomorrow or a hundred years from now, they’ll fight back. You’ll be damning future generations.”

Jaksen’s hands shot up, cupping her cheeks, his grip firm. “Then I will kill every last Fae bastard, making sure only humans walk this earth.”

“You’re sick, Jaksen.” Arenna shoved him away, her skin burning with fury. If her anger didn’t subside soon, her flame would ignite, killing them both—or maybe just him. She wasn’t injured when the manacles melted off, so maybe her own flame would not hurt her. “I won’t be a part of this.”

Jaksen threw his head back and laughed. “You don’t have a choice, Arenna. The prophecy calls for a Firewielder, and a Firewielder, you are.”

His piercing eyes tracked the swirling flames beginning to dance beneath her skin. His gaze lingered on her forearms as if drinking in the sight of her rising power.

She tried to cover her arms, the heat of her power scorching beneath her skin. She wasn’t embarrassed—she was terrified. Jaksen had slaughtered countless Fae to create this power, to create the druque. And only the Seven knew what he would do with her.

Would he drain me, too?

Siphon my blood to create more unnatural power?

“Show me.” Jaksen closed the distance between them in a flash, grabbing her forearm and sliding what little remained of her sleeve up.

His eyes flared as they traveled across her skin, taking in the sight of the flames spinning wildly beneath, thrashing in sync with the pounding of her heart.

“Have you always known you could summon an element?”

“You would know if I did,” she spat.

“True,” he agreed, a smirk forming. “I always suspected. There were signs. You’re a curious little bird when angry. Your green eyes shift to gold.”

How could he see what I couldn’t feel?