Page 24 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Bottled-up emotions tore free, ripping through her chest and pouring from her lungs.

She felt everything. All the pain, all the fear.

She could see when Jaksen first raised his hand to her in his chamber, and every day since then.

Every memory of his abuse—every cut, bruise, hit, punch, every unkind word—ripped through her heart and bled onto the forest floor.

The grip around her never faltered, never loosened as she broke apart.

Since her escape, she hadn’t had a second to grieve the loss of her sister. She would never again hear Faylen’s laugh or see her smile.

Even though it had only been weeks since Faylen was murdered, already Arenna was beginning to forget the exact shade of blue in her eyes or how far the golden strands of her hair fell down her back.

She clutched the locket Isabella had found, gripping it tight enough that warm blood beaded in her palm.

“This is all I have left,” she whimpered.

“A whole life, hundreds of memories, and this is it.”

The person holding her did not speak, did not move.

Their arms were an unyielding force of comfort and warmth, and though Arenna couldn’t comprehend anything beyond pure pain and grief, she knew she was safe, and it allowed her to shatter completely.

She cried for the abuse that had been just an experiment.

She cried for her torture, for the life wasted within those white walls.

Tears fell for Isabella and the family left behind. For every servant, guard, or soldier who would suffer for her escape. For Lord Bishop, and for every man, woman, or child murdered by the pale hands of her husband.

Racked with sobs, Arenna’s body shook so violently her teeth rattled. Pain poured from the open wound in her heart, seeping into her veins until agony swallowed her whole.

She came undone in the man’s arms, whimpering, wailing, and trembling. And still, his hold remained steady. “You’re okay. Take a deep breath. Calm your hands.”

As the high of the fight faded, Arenna’s surroundings sharpened into a harsh reality.

The chill in the air bit at her skin, the tang of rotting blood filled her nostrils, and the foul taste of it clung to her lips.

She looked down at her open palms, her stomach twisting at the sight.

Every inch of her skin was stained black, blood dripping off her fingers in slow, sickening laps.

She hadn’t just killed the feral—she had ripped him apart. His chest lay flayed and jagged, blood pooling from every gash. “What—what have I done?” she whispered.

“Look at me.” The owner of the voice released his grip, a gentle hand guiding her chin to face him. Even with a cloak covering his wavy hair and a mask obscuring the lower half of his face, those golden eyes were unmistakable.

“You’re okay,” Kayson said softly. Arenna nodded, though the words lodged in her throat.

“That creature is not the Serpent King,” he whispered.

He knew exactly what haunted her mind, knew whose face she had truly seen under her knife.

Kayson pulled a cloth from his pack, wet it with his water, then handed it to her.

“Wipe your hands and face. It won’t do much, but it’ll make you feel better until we find a stream. ”

She scrubbed at the blood drying on her hands, hating the way it clung to the grooves of her fingers and the lines of her palms. She loathed her damp clothes, knowing full well the wetness wasn’t just from the snow.

“ ARENNA! ” A distant voice pierced the stillness, dragging her attention from the black stains. “ ARENNA! ”

“He–here,” she choked out, her voice barely more than a whisper. The sound of branches breaking and hooves thudding against the forest floor reached her ears.

Arenna’s heart lurched as a familiar figure appeared through the trees—blond hair tousled and a black horse beneath him.

Koltin dismounted Solaris and rushed toward her, his face twisted in worry so deep it made her heart ache. He took a step, then hesitated, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. They lingered on her bloodstained hands, arms, and legs.

“Come here,” he whispered, finally closing the distance between them and pulling her into his embrace. Arenna curled into the warmth of his chest, hoping it would wash away the pain.

“Are you okay?” Arenna asked, her voice small.

Koltin scoffed. “Don’t worry about me. Are you hurt?”

Arenna shook her head. It wasn’t entirely true, but sore legs and arms didn’t seem worth mentioning. “What happened to the other ferals?”

“There are no others to worry about,” Kayson said from behind them. Arenna had been so wrapped in relief she almost forgot the emissary was still there and that she had lost herself completely in his arms. “We need to move. Other ferals will smell the blood.”

Koltin wasted no time, pulling Arenna up onto Solaris. Kayson mounted his own horse, taking the lead as they sped through the forest. Trees blurred in shades of white and black as they whipped past, the cold air stinging her face.

Arenna buried her head against Koltin’s back, shuddering, though no tears came. She wondered if a final piece of herself had been left with the broken body of the feral, and whether the numbness now settling over her was her new normal.

She didn’t mind the numbness.

In fact, she welcomed it.