Page 35 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Arenna unsheathed the dagger at her thigh with a speed that surprised even herself.

Her breaths were rapid, shallow, her throat tightening so much she could barely swallow.

She backed away, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the king.

But in these cramped quarters, it was futile.

Still, she refused to die—or be taken—without a fight.

Her vision swam, clouded with panic as she blinked rapidly, hands shaking as they reached for the table behind her to steady herself.

Kayson—the Red Reaper —laughed, a sound that echoed through the darkened quarters. His teeth gleamed in the dim light, the grin spreading across his face, cruel and mocking. “Do you plan to kill me then, Serpent?”

Arenna’s chest constricted as she raised her blade, her hand trembling but her aim fixed on the center of his eyes. “I will if I need to.”

I should . I could end this war right now . The thought rattled in her mind, louder than the roaring of blood in her ears. He was her enemy—the monster—who had destroyed her continent, her home. The one responsible for her mother’s death.

Hate blazed through her, flooding her senses, driving her actions. All this time she had slept beside him, ridden with him, trained—Seven above— trained with the male she feared more than anyone.

Even more than her husband.

The King of Fae moved with an unearthly swiftness. In the blink of an eye, he was upon her, disarming her with a single fluid motion. Her dagger clattered to the floor, and before she could react, he had her pinned to the table, his grip like iron around her wrists.

Arenna’s stomach plummeted as she struggled beneath Kayson’s grip, the world spinning around her.

Her fear was so raw, so potent, she could almost taste it.

Jaksen had always been terrifying, but this— this was a new depth of terror, being pinned by a male who had brought nothing but destruction and death.

He drove his thigh between her legs, his chest pressing down to pin her against the table. Arenna snarled, “Release me.”

“Not until I know you won’t try to kill me,” he replied, voice calm, almost mocking. Kayson was intimidating when he was only the emissary—now, this put him in an entirely different category.

She could hardly stomach it, the fear.

The rage.

You will survive this. You will find a way to escape.

In one swift motion, Arenna pulled the secondary dagger Kleo had given her from her back, pressing it against the king’s throat. “Release me,” she hissed again.

Kayson’s grin widened. “Turning into quite the little vicious thing, aren’t you?” His thigh shifted, pressing upwards until it connected with her center. A flood of heat shot through her body, shocking her, making the blade tremble in her hands.

His golden eyes flicked down, noticing the quiver.

Arenna followed his gaze and realized her mistake too late. Kayson seized the opportunity, knocking the dagger away from his throat and spinning her body around. Her back slammed against his chest, her own dagger now pressed into the soft flesh of her neck.

Blood oozed down, pooling at the collar of her tunic.

“Do not test me, Serpent,” Kayson whispered, his lips brushing her ear. “You will lose every time.” Arenna froze, rage boiling beneath her skin, her power itching to lash out. “I’ll let you go,” he murmured, “if you promise to keep your wicked little hands to yourself. Understand?”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She nodded.

True to his word, Kayson released her, stepping back.

Arenna clung to the edge of the table, her breath ragged and her stomach churning, leaving her feeling sick.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the burning candle before her, Arenna said, “You lying bastard .” All this time, all this damned time—

Kayson Valor. King of Worden. The Red Reaper.

Arenna closed her eyes, breathing heavily. She was tired of being betrayed, lied to, used . She spun to face the male she hated even more now. “You tricked me,” she fumed.

He laughed. “I didn’t trick you. I simply withheld the truth.”

“How didn’t you?” she snapped. “You made me believe you were the emissary of House Forx. You made me believe you were hum—” Her voice caught in her throat as her eyes fell on his ears, at the now pointed tips. Up until this moment, they had been round, like a human mans. “How is that possible?”

“Glamor,” Kayson answered, waving his hands in front of his ears, making the points disappear. He moved his hand again, and they returned. “I can make you see whatever I want you to see.”

She ran a hand through her thick hair, shaking her head, struggling to find the words.

Arenna cursed herself again and again as she stepped back from him, angry that she’d let herself get into this situation. There were so many signs—his hatred for her, his knowledge of magic, his passion to help the Fae trapped within Jaksen’s walls.

His damned ability to heal himself.

It was all there, like a portrait before her, and she hadn’t seen it.

“I suppose I did trick you, then,” Kayson said, straightening and placing his hands in his pockets. “But now you know, I am Fae.”

“ Oh , you are more than that,” she sneered. “You’re the Red Reaper.” There was a newfound sense of dread in her chest, different from before. Arenna had always feared the Fae King, but who he became as the Reaper was someone she—and every inhabitant of Varios—tried to avoid at all costs.

As a girl, when her home was destroyed, she vaguely remembered the image of the king in his Reaper form.

His eyes glowed red, his body grew two sizes too large, as if the bloodlust he felt turned him into a monster before he reaped the souls around him.

Her mother used to share stories that if the exterior of your home was marked in red, it meant he was coming.

Your soul was next. Your town was next.

Arenna did not find that warning the day the Fae King brought his army of magic wielders and destruction. But her port lost their lives and souls all the same.

Something in her heart snapped in rage as the king flinched, mockingly. “I really do hate that nickname.”

Breathing heavily, Arenna backed away. She needed to find a way out of here. There were four windows by the bed, though they were no use; beyond them lay nothing but freezing, dark water. One door stood behind the king, and she realized that was the only option.

But then what? She couldn’t swim back to Smeeds, and couldn’t return to the deck with a crew of Worden loyalists.

Hopelessness was a vicious storm inside her chest. “You owe me an explanation,” Arenna snapped, bringing her fingers to her temples. None of it made sense—why had he left her alive, helped her train, or helped her escape? She was Jaksen’s wife, for Seven’s sake.

Arenna felt the stomach-clenching fear rise in her throat again. Was he going to ransom her? Torture her to get back at Jaksen? Maybe kill her and send her head back to Brookworth in a box?

“You’re right, I do,” Kayson said, stalking to a cabinet near the bed and pulling out a glass of amber liquid. “There’s a reason you’re not dead, though nothing would give me more pleasure than shipping you back to your squealing husband. But I have use for you.”

Two knocks rang against the door. Arenna’s heart sank as the king opened it. A male and female strutted in, clad in shining black leather with vests resembling scales and blades so sharp she could feel their sting from across the room.

Fire burned through her veins—a reminder that she was a weapon and needed nothing but herself. Arenna breathed, then clenched her fists. If she unleashed the power in her hands now, she might set the entire ship ablaze.

But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

The female, pale-skinned with hair red as the flames in Arenna’s body, didn’t look her way. But the rich, russet-skinned male with short, tight curls did, and smiled. “My king,” he said, then both bowed at the waist.

Kayson dipped his chin toward them. The pair stalked past Arenna, both towering over her.

Sevens above, are all Fae massive?

They sat at a table behind a set of thick red curtains Arenna hadn’t noticed. Playing cards were scattered across it, half-filled tankards in front of four chairs. The male picked up his hand of cards. “Want to play?” he asked Arenna.

Her face twisted in confusion, anger bubbling. “No, I don’t want to play ,” she sneered, folding her arms and moving to the side of the room. “I want to get the Sorrows out of here.” They all seemed far too calm, except for the lethal female, whose eyes were like daggers on Arenna.

Kayson chuckled as he passed, claiming one of the vacant chairs. “You will not die today.”

“But tomorrow I might?” She took a step toward the door he no longer guarded.

“Enough of this,” he groaned. “We have much to discuss. No harm will come to you on this ship. Sit .”

She didn’t move. Call her stubborn, but Arenna wasn’t about to jump at the chance to sit at the Fae King’s table, especially not with two other Fae, dripping in violent authority.

Arenna scoffed, her blood boiling. “Giving orders already, are we? Should I bow first, or just kneel where I stand?”

“Careful, Arenna,” Kayson taunted, that wicked grin curving his lips. “If you’re offering to get on your knees, don’t expect me to stop you.”

Arenna blinked, momentarily stunned. “Seven above, you’re disgusting.”

Rolling his eyes, the king leaned back in his chair. “Ruining all my fun,” he said, waving his hand. “This is Marea,” Kayson muttered, changing the subject, motioning to the female on his right. “Lady Commander of the Worden armies.”

A female commander? Arenna had never heard of such a thing. She eyed Marea, noting her lean build and red hair pulled into a tight braid. Swords and knives were strapped to her waist and chest, twin blades on her back. There was no doubt this female was a skilled, vicious warrior.

She was the female from Kleo’s, the one who followed Kayson into a private room.

“And Bramnen,” he nodded to the male, “Hand of the King.”

“I don’t care who anyone is,” Arenna barked. As if the Sevens themselves were blessing her, she noticed a sword handle near the bed. She was maybe ten steps away, Kayson twenty or so.

Maybe less, given his height. She could grab the sword and die with at least a shred of honor.

“Just do what you’re told, would you?” Marea demanded. “We don’t have all damn day.”

Feeling bold, Arenna said, “Does everyone in Worden have a stick up themselves, or is it just you two?”

Marea snapped her head toward Arenna. Bramnen choked on his drink. “Coming from the woman married to the blasted Serpent King,” she seethed. “You have no grounds here, human.”

“Formerly,” Arenna said.

Marea’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Formerly married to the blasted Serpent King .”

The Lady Commander threw her head back with laughter, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Did you nullify the marriage? Unbind yourself from him?”

Arenna’s heart lurched into her throat, and her lower lip trembled. She hated that this female had earned such a rise out of her with words alone.

In her narrow escape, there had been no time to unbind herself from Jaksen. First, she would need permission from his council, which she would never have received. And second, if she had even dared to bring it up, Jaksen would have flayed her on the spot.

“Not yet,” she muttered.

Marea snickered, “Didn’t think so. My previous statement stands then, Serpent Queen.”

“Enough,” Kayson drawled. His jaw strained before he repeated, “Sit.”

“Fine,” Arenna purred, slowly walking toward the table. She glanced toward the sword again. By her next step, she had already veered toward it and ripped it from its sheath.

Movement sounded from behind. When she spun with her weapon aimed at Kayson’s last position, Marea was already standing with a deadly arrow knocked. Bramnen gripped the handle of his sword at his waist, and Kayson was only inches away.

How were they so fast?

Kayson’s eyes burned with an emotion she couldn’t pinpoint. “Don’t make me do this,” he whispered. She did not know what to make of the slight break in his voice.

Arenna angled her blade higher. “Take another step, and you die.” Fire danced at her fingertips, hungry for battle. She let it swirl around her fingers, coating her hands, and prayed to the Sisters her enemies could not see the hesitation or the fear.

Kayson eyed the embers but didn’t back off. “This is your last chance.”

Fear thrummed steadily in her blood, but Arenna held firm, tightening her grip on the weapon. “Not another step.”

“I tried to not let it reach this point.” The King of Worden rolled his shoulders and nodded.

The air in Arenna’s lungs vanished in an instant. Her sword clattered to the floor, and she fell to her knees, clawing at her throat and clutching her chest as if she could pull the air back with her hands.

Marea stood over her, her hand twisted as if commanding Arenna’s lungs to shrivel.

Rage burned in her eyes, tears pooling and falling.

She was going to kill these bastards.

Voices began to drown out as Bramnen clamped iron around her wrists, and despite the lack of air, Arenna thrashed, immediately recognizing the cool metal against her skin.

A noise eased from her throat, and she did her best to back away from the Lady Commander and the hateful, judgmental look in her eyes.

The last thing she saw was Kayson’s mouth moving, and the last thing she felt was being dragged across the wood before being pulled out of the room and down a set of broken, rickety stairs.