Page 45 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Cobbled streets wound through the cottages dotting the valley. There were trees, flowers, and grass blooming wherever the sun kissed the earth. Arenna blinked back tears as she trailed behind the trio, running her hands along wildflowers that brushed her thighs.

She breathed deeply, inhaling their sweet scent. Arenna hadn’t realized she had stopped walking until a touch brushed her shoulder. When her eyes opened, Bramnen stood beside her, while Kayson and Marea watched from a distance. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Wiping away the tears gathering on her lashes, she felt foolish for being so moved by something as simple as flowers.

“I never thought I would see anything like this again.” There was so much color, so much light.

Music drifted from the towering city behind, and the river rushing by wasn’t red, but blue and clear and wonderful.

Arenna clutched her chest, wishing Isabella, Koltin, and Faylen were here to witness it.

She longed for a world like this for her people—one where humans and Fae alike could relish in verdant lands, where eating wasn’t a risk due to plagued soil, and where families could raise children without the fear of feral attacks.

And for the first time, she truly realized who could help her make that world a reality. She had known Kayson was one of the four keys needed to fix everything, but now she understood more fully the depth of their bond and what it could mean for their future.

They were chosen by the Seven themselves to undo the wrongs of their ancestors, to restore this continent to what it once was. Whether she liked it or not, they were bound—intertwined beyond their births, beyond even the births of their souls.

Tears welled again as Arenna looked at the king, who showed no emotion, his fur cloak billowing beside him.

A Fae King, yes, but he had borne the weight of the world on his shoulders for years— alone .

He had watched as Varios fell to ash, as his kind were enslaved and used by her husband, all while the answer to this destruction lay thrumming in his veins, and it wasn’t enough.

He had always known how to fix it and yet could do nothing without the other three keys.

Kayson was crude, unkind, and obnoxious. But maybe she hadn’t given him enough of a chance. Maybe she had judged him based on the legends and myths of an enemy kingdom, rather than the king she had come to know through the people of his court and his rule.

At that moment, Arenna made a vow. She knew she didn’t have to like him or even tolerate him, but she would stand by his side. She would work and grow with him, so all of Varios could taste this kind of freedom—so they could see this kind of light.

* * *

After a short walk to one of the cottages through aged, winding paths, Arenna stuffed her mouth with the most decadent pastry she had ever tasted.

She licked chocolate off her fingers, wiping the flaky crust from her vest. A croissant, it was called.

She had never heard of such a thing before, but now she couldn’t imagine living without it.

The old female living in the small cottage was a retired baker. Though her name slipped Arenna’s mind, the taste of the croissant lingered on her tongue. They had stopped to gather a sack of flour to bring back to the castle kitchens.

“She has access to the best kind of flour, and Kayson refuses to have anything else. He really enjoys pastries,” Bramnen had told her.

Arenna laughed to herself the entire walk out of the moss-covered cottage, unable to imagine Kayson—the Red Reaper , the King of Worden—enjoying something as dainty as pastries.

That was until they rippled up to the castle, and she found herself vomiting on the cobblestone bridge for the third time, every delicious bite of her chocolate croissant coming back up.

Arenna didn’t laugh at all after that.

Rippling was horrible, but convenient. When the nausea subsided and Arenna’s knees no longer wobbled, she stood, nearly crumbling again at the view. The capsules had brought them just outside the long bridge leading to Castle Worden, and it all felt like a dream.

White-tipped towers and smooth pillars jutted into the sky, battlements surrounding its outer perimeter. Waterfalls cascaded from the top through arched bridges carved from the rock, connecting different parts of the castle.

Thick, smooth stone bridges, much like the one she stood on, stretched out from the base of the castle, connecting to smaller, more extravagant buildings—small palaces, really.

They were built of the same white stone as Castle Worden, though their towers were more pointed, and their windows made from stained glass.

There was no absence of light, foliage, or trees.

Turning away from the castle and back to the valley, Arenna took in the full view of the heart of Vlazias. Lands of green stretched for miles beyond the castle, covered by towering, snow-capped mountains whose peaks disappeared into thick clouds.

She could hardly believe her eyes and couldn’t ignore the warmth blooming in her chest.

Above all, Arenna couldn’t believe she had been trapped within a castle built on ash, in a continent plagued by deadly sickness, while places like this existed.

Never before had she yearned for travel, for adventure and culture, until she looked out in the direction of the sea, the cliffs, and endless possibilities.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?”

Had she not been so taken by the view, Arenna might have been startled by the presence beside her— especially when that voice belonged to Marea.

But here, with an entire world beyond, they suddenly seemed so small.

As did their differences. “My people have spent so long in darkness, I wonder if they even remember light.”

Marea turned, her red hair loosely braided. “Do you truly care for them? Your people.”

“Of course,” Arenna replied.

“Then do well to learn here. Grow, train, summon.” Marea glanced toward Emerlon in the distance, where lights began to glow on the winding streets as the sun sank. “Do what you can so no one has to live like that anymore. Human or not.”

The Lady Commander stalked off toward the king, Arenna trailing close behind with her hand tightly gripping the pommel of her bloodiron sword.

Guards, clad in black armor and golden capes, bowed deeply as their king passed, not rising until he was well beyond them.

Kayson nodded his chin to each of them, offering a simple sign of respect.

A massive gold gate groaned open as the group approached.

More guards stood at every corner of the open-ceiling space within the perimeter, though they had not yet entered the castle walls.

They watched every door intently, standing in pairs on arched balconies draped in green vines and blooming red flowers.

The castle was even more breathtaking up close.

Arenna ran her hand across one of the stone walls as she waited for the main doors to open.

The wind picked up, sending a cool breeze across the back of her neck.

A shiver crept down her spine, and she yanked her hand away, feeling the same sizzling sensation from earlier on her fingertips. She examined her hands but saw nothing.

“Everything alright?” Bramnen asked.

“There’s just this . . . sensation.” Arenna shook off her hands, looking up at Bramnen’s brown eyes. “It happened once before, when. . . ” she hesitated. He didn’t need to know it was when Kayson had touched her. “Earlier,” she corrected, “when we were still in Alaraine.”

Bramnen opened his mouth to respond, but Marea cut in. “What does it feel like?”

Arenna paused, thinking. “Do you know that sound an egg makes when it drops into a hot pan? The sizzling?” she asked.

Marea’s eyes narrowed, and Bramnen’s smirk widened into a grin. “Yes, we know the sound,” he said, chuckling.

“Imagine that on your skin. It only lasts a second, but then it lingers.” Arenna rubbed her palm. Marea and Bramnen exchanged a glance. Kayson looked over his shoulder with a clenched jaw but added nothing to the conversation. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she blurted, feeling embarrassed.

“Agreed,” Marea echoed.

Before stepping through the now-open door, Bramnen offered Arenna a reassuring smile. “Everything will be fine.”

She nodded, though her gut was still twisted. Something about this place was . . . strange. She couldn’t quite put it into words. Arenna felt like she did in the blacksmith shop, where everything seemed familiar, but at the same time, it didn’t.

High-pitched squealing interrupted her thoughts as she stepped through the doorway of Castle Worden.

An aged female, his mother Arenna would assume had she not already known the former queen’s fate, had her arms wrapped around the king’s torso, his own encircling her upper back.

The embrace didn’t break, even as Marea, Bramnen, and Arenna approached.

Arenna glanced toward Kayson’s council, their smiles wide on their equally flawless faces. “It’s good to have you all home,” the female said, releasing the king from her embrace.

“It’s good to be home.” Kayson’s hand rested against her shoulder. “I have someone I’d like to introduce to you.”

Please don’t say my name . Please don’t say my name .

“Arenna,” Kayson called, extending his hand and gesturing for her to step forward.

Seven above .

Forcing her lips into a smile, Arenna nodded in greeting toward the older Fae.

She was lovely, her light gray hair almost white.

Her bright blue eyes stood out against her pale skin, and she wore an elegant blue jacket that draped to her knees, laced with intricate golden metal designs across her arms and chest. A robe flowed over her shoulders, fastened by a tall, ornate collar at her neck, the goldwork on it equally stunning.

The Fae’s eyes flicked over Arenna, taking in her hair, features, and clothing. “Arenna,” she whispered. “How lovely it is to meet you.”