Page 37 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Thomas sat atop a small barrel, peering out the single circular window near her cell. He was going on about how they had made it through the Siren Sea without casualties or battles. “Strange, though. We seem to be moving out of the fog earlier than usual,” he remarked after a few silent seconds.

Arenna didn’t answer, nor did she absorb anything he said. She enjoyed his company that she now found daily, almost hourly. But the weight of her imprisonment was starting to wear on her; the nights and days had blended into one indistinguishable haze.

Pride kept her from approaching Kayson about whatever it was he desperately needed to discuss. How could she possibly bring herself to speak with the Red Reaper—the man who tormented her continent, who killed her mother, and who had slaughtered thousands of humans?

Even if it meant her freedom—or at least a relief from her cell—she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

But today, all that changed.

Today, the stench of the berth, the tight press of the walls, the silence gnawing at her sanity—it became too much.

Arenna could no longer endure the slow unraveling of herself inside that cell.

Pride would have to wait. She decided to speak with the king, survive the remainder of the journey, and then disappear.

There had to be a reason she was still alive, and she needed to understand why. What could possibly be so important that the King of Worden would keep the Queen of Brookworth breathing?

“Can you take me to him?” Arenna asked.

“Yes,” Thomas answered, quicker than she had expected. “I can take you now.”

She looked up at him. “Just like that? I’ve been locked in here because I cannot be trusted, but that’s all I have to say for you to let me out?”

“That’s all,” he replied. Thomas opened Arenna’s cell doors and stretched out a hand.

Pushing herself off the cold floor, every part of her body ached. She stifled a groan as she pulled herself to her feet, using the iron bars for support. It took her a few blinks and deep breaths to realign her vision and roll out her stiff ankles.

On the table to the left of her cell, Thomas had left his cutlass sitting in the center.

Arenna felt a dip in her stomach at the sight of it, an overwhelming urge to grab the weapon and do what was necessary.

A tug pulled her attention to the bottom of the stairs, where Thomas stood waiting, his eyes flitting between her and the blade before settling on her.

Scenarios pounded through her mind, each one darker than the last.

After a few moments, Arenna ascended the staircase empty-handed. She pretended not to notice the flood of relief wash over Thomas’s face, even as it made her heart ache a little. For reasons she couldn’t fully grasp, he seemed to trust her.

Despite being Fae, she felt she could trust him too, and the thought of disappointing the cook weighed heavily on her.

In silence, Thomas led her to the upper deck, warning her to be as still as death. No one spoke or moved, even as he grumbled about departing the fog any second.

When they finally broke through to the other side, Arenna dared to glance at the now blue water.

Her stomach hollowed out at the sight of what she swore were three women’s heads bobbing above the waves, wicked grins on each of their deathly pale faces.

The middle one raised a hand, wiggling her fingers in a silent goodbye, or perhaps a promise of death should they ever venture through their waters again.

* * *

Arenna stepped cautiously into Kayson’s private quarters, unsure of what to expect this time.

They had permitted her a bath with a bucket of fresh water and a small strip of fabric.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to wash the grime from her skin and untangle the knots in her hair.

After braiding it back with a small leather strap, she donned a fresh tunic and pants before presenting herself to the king when he called.

Kayson sat at his desk, flanked by Marea on his left and Bramnen on his right. They radiated brutal authority, dressed in scaled leathers and fur capes. Each wore a golden dragon brooch over their right shoulder and sharpened weapons strapped to their waists.

Arenna swallowed hard, her throat dry. Even in Jaksen’s presence, she had never felt so small and pathetic. Now, she felt merely an ant before these towering beasts. Though the fire coursing through her veins gave her a slight edge, she still felt squishable.

“Glad you finally came to your senses,” Kayson remarked.

“Three weeks later,” Marea mumbled under her breath.

Arenna shot them both a glare. “Being locked in a cell doesn’t exactly make people eager to be in your presence.” Her gaze slid to Marea’s. “ Especially when you radiate such warmth.”

Bramnen lowered his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. Marea’s eyes flared with such intensity that Arenna thought she might burn through her with that glare.

Ignoring the tension, Kayson said, “Sit down, Arenna. There will be a lot of information to unpack.”

“I’ll take the truth this time,” she snapped, crossing the space to the table. She sank into the open chair across from the king.

“What a mouth you’ve got,” Marea remarked. “You do realize who you’re speaking to, don’t you?”

“He is no king of mine” Arenna spat. “And considering I’ll be dying soon, I plan to make his ,” she glanced at Kayson, who wore a grin like a schoolboy, “life Sorrows before I go.”

Both the king and Bramnen laughed. “What is it with you and death? I have no intentions of killing you. In fact, you are quite useful to me,” Kayson added.

Arenna scoffed. “In what way?”

“Well, that is quite the question to unpack—”

“Why did you pretend to be the emissary of Forx? Why were you in Brookworth?” She did not bother holding her tongue, or letting him speak first.

Kayson smirked. “Rumors of the Serpent King’s tournament reached my side of the ocean.

My people were being abducted from their lands, and with all the secrecy surrounding it, I assumed they were involved somehow.

I chose to play the role of emissary, because I needed a way to speak with Jaksen regularly. ”

Arenna’s stomach dropped. Amidst everything, she had almost forgotten about the druque and how they were created. All those Fae, stolen, bled dry—

“My Master of Shades located the Lord of Forx and his emissary traveling by carriage. I simply took their place.”

“You killed them, didn’t you?” The words left her lips like ice. She already knew the truth and could feel the weight of it settling on her like smoke.

“And enjoyed every bloody, painful second of it,” Kayson replied, his tone a lethal calmness that sent chills through her.

Bramnen stiffened beside him, anger rippling through the space like a storm cloud. “There were no horses pulling the carriage he sat in,” he whispered. “They were Fae—chained, collared, driven like animals.”

Arenna’s breath caught. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Kayson said, his voice quieter but no less sharp, “You lived in a castle while the people of your continent were made to crawl. You saw the war through windows and polished floors—they lived it in chains and blood. Don’t pretend you understand what he’s done.”

Arenna’s heart stopped.

Marea’s voice followed, steady and cold.

“Males and females— enslaved . Treated like animals.” She leaned against the table, red hair spilling over her leathered shoulders.

“Our people are your husband’s slaves. Your nobles’ slaves.

Yours.” She held Arenna’s gaze. “Every servant in your halls, every healer, every cook, every stableboy, are Fae.”

The words cut deeper than any blade. Arenna felt the floor tilt beneath her, as if the weight of their truth was enough to crush her from the inside out. Her chest tightened, breath shallow and unsteady.

She wanted to deny it. To argue. But the truth settled like ash in her mouth—bitter, choking, inescapable. Arenna’s voice was thin. “I didn’t know.”

Marea said nothing, only curled her lip like an animal.

Arenna’s jaw tightened. Her hands curled at her sides.

“I didn’t know,” she repeated, firmer this time.

“But do you expect me to believe that without proof?” she snapped—though even as the words left her mouth, something inside her already knew.

“You’re the damned Fae of Worden, enemies of the Brookworth crown.

Every word out of your mouths is usually a lie. ”

Marea stood abruptly, her voice low but seething.

“And you are the pampered queen of a stolen throne, draped in silk and satin while your people burn. Don’t talk to me about lies.

” She leaned in, her blue eyes flashing.

“Our lives are the proof. Our dead are proof. You want something you can see? Look at your own hands, your own kingdom—every stone soaked in our blood.”

“I didn’t know,” Arenna repeated, her voice laced with wrath.

“Then that makes you even more stupid than I thought you would be.” Arenna tried and failed to hide her flinch, how the words ached inside her chest. As if she hadn’t dug deep enough, Marea added, “Our people have been enslaved inside your walls for years, longer than you’ve even reigned.

They do not look like humans, they do not talk or act or speak like them either.

If you did not see that, then I fear you will be no use to us even after you realize the truth. ”

“Enough, Marea,” Kayson interjected, propping his head up on folded hands.

His gaze shifted to Arenna, steadier now, but not without weight.

“What she says is true,” he said quietly.

“Jaksen rounds the tips of their ears to make them appear human. Strips them of their names, their history—everything that makes them Fae. And he does it with the same care a butcher gives to carving meat.”

What little appetite she had disappeared in an instant. “And their powers?” Arenna asked in a hushed whisper, wincing at the anticipated answer.