Page 36 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Arenna’s head throbbed as her eyes cracked open. She hated waking up, despising the feeling of reality settling in after the simplicity of unconsciousness. Her reality was yet another cage, another prison.

Panic swelled as she remembered where she was and who had trapped her. It spread from her chest, making her heart pound against her ribs, and her breaths come in short, raspy gasps. She quickly moved to the bars, wrapping her shaking hands around the thick iron.

Though she knew they wouldn’t budge, she shook them anyway, releasing a shuddered breath when they didn’t move even a centimeter. Leaning her head against the metal, Arenna suppressed the urge to ram her forehead into the bars until it either killed her or knocked her out.

Hundreds of thoughts flooded her mind. She imagined all the ways the Reaper might torment or torture her, how he might let his council dogs tear her apart and put her back together just for fun.

Above all, she pictured Jaksen’s face when the Fae King delivered her back to his doorstep, walking away with sacks of ransom gold. Maybe he wouldn’t return her at all. Maybe he’d force Jaksen to make a risky move to get her back.

She glanced around the small but sturdy cage, biting back tears at the sight of the massive lock on the door.

One small consolation was that she recognized the room, having come here often to fetch supplies for Thomas and his makeshift kitchen.

The hold, she believed it was called. Arenna knew there were a few small windows, but they were submerged beneath red waves.

The thought of smashing them and letting the ship fill with water didn’t seem so bad.

Death no longer scared her. Drowning sounded awful, but it might be better than whatever the king had planned.

Arenna slid to her knees, her forehead resting against the bars. She knew full well she couldn’t escape this cage until Kayson allowed it. Eyes burning, she let them flutter shut, hoping it would calm the pounding ache in her heart.

* * *

Arenna tracked her meals, the hours from the position of the sun, and gathered that she has been locked down here for four days, give or take.

Each and every minute had been agonizing, to say the least. Growing up in a port town and traveling by rowboat more times than she could count, did not prepare her for the onslaught of waves against the ship.

Arenna had never experienced seasickness. She’d only been on a cargo ship once and lasted all of fifteen minutes before she was caught in the berth and the ship returned to port. Her mother had been so furious, she never tried again.

But now—as she lay in a dank cell aboard the Hadley —Arenna couldn’t stop vomiting into the small bucket someone had provided. Her cell reeked of bile, mold, and brine from the ocean water leaking through the ceiling, which didn’t help the constant unease twisting her stomach.

If she inhaled deeply enough in the foul air of this ship, Arenna could catch the faintest hint of copper, likely from the crimson water.

She often huddled near the far-left corner of her cell, beneath a small, cracked floorboard from above, giving her just enough airflow to escape the stench of urine and salt.

It was agonizing to see the outside world but not feel or touch it. Though, Arenna supposed she was used to this kind of torment.

Breathing, but not living.

Once again trapped within strange, evil walls, with an entire world just beyond. Only this time, she was behind real bars, not the phantom ones of Brookworth Castle.

When her stomach was thoroughly empty and there was nothing left to heave, Arenna backed into the farthest corner of her cell. She pulled her legs to her chest and whimpered softly, from the pain of retching and from the realization that she had escaped one monster only to be imprisoned by another.

The Red Reaper didn’t venture to this part of the ship.

Marea or Bramnen usually brought fresh water, hot food, blankets, or spare clothes—depending on the weather.

It was strange to be held prisoner yet still provided with necessities.

Arenna hated when the commander stomped down the stairs, her foul attitude even worse than her mouth.

Bramnen, on the other hand, was kind and warm. It seemed the very sun radiated from his rich skin. He was the only one who seemed somewhat bothered—or maybe guilty—that they had thrown her into this disgusting cell and left her there.

Regardless of how either felt, neither had noticed a piece of bone missing from her dinner plate two nights prior. No one had found her makeshift weapon, an animal leg she’d gnawed and scraped against the wooden floor until it had a sharp point at one end.

All she needed was for the King of Worden to step into her cell, to inspect her himself, and she could shove the sharpened bone into the side of his pretty head. Arenna pulled it from the waistband of her pants and examined it, pressing her finger into the point.

Blood beaded and dribbled.

Good . Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to kill.

Sighing, Arenna let her head fall back until it hit the wall behind her and glanced toward the narrow stairwell. It had been hours since her last visit, but she was thankful for the break.

She had been vomiting for the better part of the last hour and wasn’t ready to face Marea’s snickering at her half-full bucket or Bramnen’s pitiful eyes. She didn’t want his pity; she only wanted the cell unlocked so she could get the Sorrows out of here.

Boots thudded against the wooden floorboards. Arenna’s stomach lurched, sending her into another nauseous spell, but she breathed deeply, forcing it back down, and tucked her weapon into the safety of her pocket.

Tan pants and an olive-green tunic came into view, followed by long cinnamon hair spilling over broad shoulders. Arenna nearly sobbed with relief as Thomas descended the remaining steps, a steaming bowl of stew in his hands.

She scrambled to her feet, rushing to the bars. “ Thomas ,” Arenna rasped, “thank the Seven you’re here. You have to help me out of here.”

Hollow eyes stared back at her, and she knew this was a battle she wouldn’t win. “I can’t, Iris.” Thomas set the bowl down outside the bars. “King Kayson means more to this crew than I can describe. I won’t disobey his orders.”

She swore her heart cracked. There really was no getting out of this mess until that bastard allowed it. Part of her hated that a small piece of her still wanted to believe Kayson wouldn’t let her stay down here.

Arenna gripped the bars, her knuckles turning white as she pressed her forehead against the cool iron. “Tell me what I need to do to get out of here, then.”

“You know exactly what to do.” Thomas waved his hand, and the bowl of stew disappeared entirely.

Yes, she did, but could not stomach allowing it. Marea and Bramnen both explained the king only needed to speak to Arenna, and then she could come out.

Stubborn or stupid, she didn’t care. Arenna couldn’t bare the idea of being anywhere near the male who had ruined so much.

Arenna stepped back as the bowl reappeared inside her cell, still steaming and glistening in the candlelight. “I should have known,” she said, chuckling to mask her annoyance at yet another revelation. “You’re Fae too.”

Arenna inhaled deeply, the savory smell of the stew oddly delicious after heaving her guts out minutes ago.

Thomas nodded. “Born and raised on Vlazias soil.”

“This isn’t a Brookworth cargo ship, is it?”

He slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” He sat on the floor just outside the bars, crossing his legs. “And you are not really Iris, are you?”

Feeling utterly defeated and exhausted, Arenna slid down the damp wall until she hit the floor. “No, I’m not.”

Their discussion had been casual and brief, with both of them sharing their stories in little detail.

He knew she was the Serpent Queen, escaped and on the run from certain death, while Thomas had been a cook on the Hadley for the last ninety years, though he appeared no older than twenty-one.

Arenna understood that the Fae aged differently than humans, but she had never truly grasped it until now.

Thomas explained that Fae bodies stopped aging when they reached twenty in human years.

From that point, they grew in strength and power, but it wasn’t until they reached the thousands that their bodies began to age again like humans—graying hair, wrinkling skin, and weakness.

He also explained that the Hadley was Kayson’s main ship for traveling between continents and that they had all been part of his crew since he first rose to power.

Loyal to a fault.

But being in Thomas’s presence was confusing.

He was kind, welcoming, and pleasant—everything she had come to believe was the opposite of the Fae.

He spoke of the Reaper as if he were a hero rather than a villain.

He even laughed when she mentioned how Kayson harvested the souls of humans to deepen his strength in power.

Laughed like it was nothing more than a fairytale.

Thomas left shortly after, leaving her alone in the cell once more. Arenna settled onto her bedroll, hoping sleep would find her quickly—before the rocking beneath her feet stirred another wave of seasickness.

She rested a hand on her stomach, grateful that it no longer ached and rumbled. Beside her straw bed sat a bucket of fresh water and a ladle, while her other bucket was empty and cleaned.

After sleepiness wore off, Arenna realized how dark this portion of the ship was. Somehow, her candle had gone out, leaving behind nothing but a thick glob of wax. Panic quickly set in as she scanned the room, searching for any sign of light.

Darkness suffocated her, fear wrapping around her throat and squeezing. She brought trembling hands in front of her face, begging her flame to show. Sparks danced across her skin, but no embers grew.

Her breathing became strained, her chest rising and falling so rapidly it hurt.

Arenna clutched her chest, hyperventilating from her fear of the dark. Scrambling to the bars and using them to pull herself up, she tried to breathe deeply. Her world was tilting, swaying as the ship rocked through the ocean, which was no help to the wobble in her knees.

Jaksen broke her in the darkness of the Brookworth dungeons, and every horrific act she tried to forget happened in the night, in the absence of light.

She didn’t realize she was making any sound until light flooded the stairwell and boots pounded down.

A face appeared in front of the bars in an instant, a small lantern casting sweet, glorious light. There was pressure on her shoulders, and then her body was shaking—as if someone were rocking her back and forth.

But Arenna kept her gaze fixed on the lantern now resting on the floor, unable to see anything else.

Then water rained down, drenching her completely. She gasped, inhaling air and water, her senses jolting back to life. Arenna glanced to her right, where the Fae King stood before her, his hair tousled and messy, his body dripping in black and steel.

Using both hands, she shoved him backward and shouted, “What in the Realms do you think you’re doing?”

“You were having a breathing attack and not responding. What would you have preferred I do?”

Anger and embarrassment scorched through her veins at the sound of the king’s voice. “I would prefer you leave me alone,” Arenna spat.

A muscle twitched in his bearded jaw. “No problem.” Kayson slammed the cell door shut. “I want to remind you that you brought this upon yourself.”

“You look worse than I remember,” she sneered. “I think I liked you better as the emissary.” She hadn’t seen Kayson since he revealed his true self in his private quarters, and couldn’t believe she hadn’t pieced it all together before. The mere size of him should have given it away.

He clicked his tongue. “I did not like you at all. When you’re ready to talk—”

“I’m ready to not be locked in this cell,” Arenna snapped.

“Then you have to promise to behave.”

She gripped the bars, bringing her face dangerously close to his. “I’m not something you can cage and expect to be calm anymore.”

Kayson didn’t flinch. He leaned in, slow and deliberate, the shadow of a smile touching his mouth—but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then stop fighting me,” he said, voice like a threat whispered in the dark. “Or I’ll show you just how small this cage can really get.”

With sudden swiftness, Arenna thrust her hand through the bars and grabbed a handful of his tunic, yanking him toward the cell until his face slammed against the iron.

Golden eyes flicked to the weapon clenched in her other hand, pressed against the side of his head. “Chicken bone?” he asked, laughing.

“It may not be a blade, but your temple isn’t made of steel. Give me one good reason not to bury this in your skull.”

“Do it,” Kayson purred, leaning into the weapon hard enough to draw blood.

“Still so arrogant with a weapon pressed to your head?” She clicked her tongue. “You must really want to die.”

His lips twitched into something like a smile, and without breaking eye contact, he reached up and dragged her hand lower, guiding the sharpened bone along his jaw line to his throat. “Or you’re a spineless coward, too afraid to follow through with idle threats.”

Arenna’s heart sank. His words struck deeper than she expected, slicing through her anger like a blade through silk. She wanted to deny it, to cling to her rage and prove that he was wrong. But the truth echoed in her chest, sharp and unrelenting.

She was exactly what Kayson expected her to be.

Without realizing it, her fingers loosened their grip, the tension bleeding from her hand as doubt crept in like a slow, suffocating tide.

Kayson spun away from the cell, effortlessly pulling her weapon free with a grace that only a Fae could possess.

He crushed the animal bone in his hand, the remnants clattering to the floor.

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” He stalked toward the stairs, glancing over his shoulder.

“Feel free to thank me next time, Serpent.”