Page 23 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Arenna’s throat felt constricted, as if invisible hands were wrapped around her neck, squeezing tighter with each breath. It was hard to swallow, even harder to breathe. Blinking back cowardly, useless tears, Arenna wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her dagger.

These weren’t men—at least, not anymore.

Creatures staggered from the trees, some limping on twisted legs, while others moved with eerie fluidity.

They still wore the tattered remnants of Brookworth armor, with crimson capes draped over decaying shoulders, and many bore the serpent broach.

Their skin looked as if it were melting off, revealing muscle and bone beneath.

Arenna’s stomach twisted. “This is what the Rot does to humans,” she whispered, her whole body trembling.

Ferals .

Koltin nodded grimly. A heavy mist fell from the sky, cloaking the snow-covered forest in a thick, gray shroud. “The mist is theirs,” he whispered, “summoned to blind us, weaken us. But they can be killed like ordinary men.”

Be brave.

The ferals closed in. Of the six, only two were mounted on decaying horses, their matted fur clinging to rotting flesh, while the other four stalked forward on foot.

Arenna shifted to dismount Solaris, but Koltin’s hand rested firmly on her knee, stopping her. The look on his face said what his mouth couldn’t. Don’t move .

The largest of the six stepped forward, his head twitching as it cocked. His eyes were a brimming red, much like vorgrith. Its lower jaw unhinged, growing three times too large, letting out a shriek that rattled inside Arenna’s brain.

Koltin spun wildly, slapping his hand against the mare’s back, sending Solaris plunging through the vicious ferals and into the dead forest beyond.

She couldn’t catch her breath before the mare was moving fast enough that the forest began to blur.

Gripping the reins tighter, Arenna lowered her body until her chest touched the tip of the saddle.

She turned back in Koltin’s direction, his body barely visible through the dead trees.

Creatures were on him now, the sound of slashing swords and shrieking ringing through the trees.

Arenna cursed, fighting back a broken sob. If he survived, she would kill him for sending her away while he took on the group alone. She had held her own against the Vorgrith and could have done something to protect him—or at least better his odds.

Something caught the corner of her eye, a blur of red, gold, and brown within the mist, growing closer with every step Solaris took. Before she could react, a feral on a brown horse burst through the trees, nearly toppling them over.

Solaris screeched, veering back onto her hind legs.

Arenna yanked on the reins, steering her away from the snarling beast and its mount. Once calm, she shoved the heels of her boots into Solaris’s side, and they sprinted through the trees once more.

She leaned into the mare’s black neck, dodging snowy branches and soaring over fallen logs with ease. The sound of pursuit and hungry screeches echoed in the distance behind her, but she pushed Solaris on, refusing to look back.

The trees began to fan out, creating a vast opening as trunks and mist melted away, and she smelled the salt before she saw it.

Blue water came into view beyond the cliffs, meaning they would reach the edge in minutes—maybe even seconds.

Solaris skidded to a halt, crying out as her hooves scraped against the rocky floor beneath the snow, nearly toppling over the cliff’s edge.

Seconds it was.

Arenna looked below, her heart sinking at the sight of the unforgiving drop to jagged rocks and freezing water, hundreds of feet below.

The feral twitched closer, pushing Arenna and Solaris backward, forcing them toward the cliff’s edge. Unearthly sounds leaked from its mouth, sending shivers crawling across her skin.

Solaris cried out again as one of her hooves slipped off the edge. Arenna quickly realized there was no way out but forward—to fight the dead man standing before her. She shut her eyes for a brief moment, running through her dagger training.

This is what the training was for , she told herself. You can do this. You will do this.

Just as her eyes snapped open, a disfigured body flung itself toward her, landing as a collar around Solaris’s neck. The mare reared onto her hind legs, screaming. Arenna tumbled from the horse’s back, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

Her ears rang, her head throbbed, but she found the will to scramble to her feet.

The feral was too quick, already pushing her back into the snow and straddling her waist. The blow to the back of her head sent Arenna into a dizzy spell, the visual of the monster fading in and out.

Its broken, rotted teeth snapped inches from her face. Arenna roared inside her mind, begging her power to show itself, yet it remained dormant.

A sharp pain pressed against her leg, and she remembered the dagger tucked into her pocket. “I will not die today,” she screamed, fury coating every word. She yanked the blade from her breeches and shoved it into the feral’s once-meaty thigh.

It toppled over in pain, shrieking to the winds.

Arenna pulled the blade from rotting muscle and sprinted toward the hooded trees. The sun was setting, and she could easily find a place to hide in the darkness if she needed to.

It wasn’t long before she heard heavy, fast footsteps behind her.

She pushed harder, ignoring the throbbing in her legs and the burning in her throat, trying to keep distance between herself and her pursuer.

Darkness lingered at the edge of her vision, nausea churning in her belly, but she didn’t stop running.

Even though she was pushing her body to its limit, Arenna still wasn’t fast enough. She tried changing course, running through shallow streams and thick blankets of snow, but nothing shook him. He was the hunter, and she was the prey. He wouldn’t stop until she was deep within his jaws.

Fingers twisted into the end of her long braid, and Arenna knew the race was over. The feral threw her to the ground, clawing and scratching at the arm she used to protect herself, searching for a way to her throat—to her blood.

Panic swelled in her chest, beating through her heart and into her veins.

A silver glimmer caught her blurred vision—her dagger, just an arm’s length away, reflecting the last light of the sun as it descended.

Arenna took a deep breath, calming the vicious rhythm of her heart, and stretched her arm as far as it could reach, straining for the only thing that could save her.

Relief washed over her as her fingers grazed the handle, and she curled it into her hand. Without hesitation, she thrust the dagger into the feral’s side, just beneath the rib cage, angling it toward his heart. The creature shrieked as she yanked the blade out and plunged it into his chest.

Bone shattered too easily, flesh split too fast, and black blood leaked too much like oil.

Her mind was all instinct. She saw the Brookworth crest on the creature’s armor, felt his intent to skin her alive, and she went feral too. Like an animal finally devouring its prey, she tore through the monster’s chest.

With a cry that ripped from the depths of her chest, she drove the dagger forward, plunging it into its torso.

Again.

And again.

Her blade tore through ribs, muscle, flesh. The creature’s decomposing head lolled to the side, blood oozing in dark, curdled streams from its mouth. Its eyes—wide and glassy—remained fixed on hers.

But she didn’t care and didn’t stop stabbing.

Again and again, Arenna thrusted the dagger, sticky black staining her skin. Each swing was more brutal than the last, as if the rage boiling inside her fueled every strike.

She saw Jaksen in every stab—his smirk, his eyes, the way he stood over her like she was nothing. Arenna felt him in every plunge of the blade, in every splatter of black blood. The feral wasn’t him, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, they were the same.

Rage blinded her, thick and consuming. She could hardly see through the blur of tears and fury, but her hands didn’t stop. They moved on their own, driven by something deeper than anger.

Something darker.

Arenna stabbed for every bruise he’d left on her skin.

For every cracked rib.

For every whispered threat that made her stomach turn.

For every time she looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize herself. She stabbed for the nights he stole from her, for the way he twisted love into a weapon. For the silence he forced on her, the way he broke her piece by piece and dared to call it devotion.

Each thrust of the blade tore something loose inside Arenna—memories she’d buried just to survive.

The fear .

The shame .

The hollow ache of powerlessness. She stabbed until her arms shook from exhaustion, until her hands were slick with blood and her lungs burned from the force of her sobs.

She screamed—not at the feral, not even at Jaksen—but at everything. At the years she lost, the woman he tried to destroy.

The creature had long since stopped moving, but Arenna didn’t notice. She kept going, because stopping meant feeling—and she wasn’t ready for that.

Heat pooled in her gut, the comforting sensation of her flame finally returning. She dropped the blade, watching as it fell to the ground. Her hands shook violently, glowing a brilliant orange.

She felt nothing but the raw desire to burn the creature.

Suddenly, arms wrapped around her shoulders, forcing her to stop the assault. Arenna thrashed against them, desperate to finish what she started.

“It’s over,” a voice said. “He’s gone.”

“ Let me go ,” she grunted, still thrashing like a wild animal.

“Enough, Arenna,” the husky voice commanded.

“Please,” she whimpered. “ Please .” Arenna’s grunts of frustration turned into silent sobs, her chest burning as it heaved. There was so much pain, anger, and sadness. It was mirrored in the body before her—the feral, whose lifeless eyes stared up at the darkening sky.