Page 46 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)
Long blue gemstone earrings swayed as she moved, hanging from her delicately pointed ears, sharper and longer than any of the others in the room.
Kayson cleared his throat, and the female’s gaze snapped to his, her eyes narrowing. But as she turned back to Arenna, her sweet smile returned. “How are you? Was your journey alright?” She placed her hands on Arenna’s arms.
“Fine, thank you.” Arenna resisted the urge to mention her attempt to kill the Fae King or his brief imprisonment of her.
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she noticed Kayson stiffen with discomfort, his cheeks flushing.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” she said to the female.
“You know my name, yet I do not know yours.”
“Itta. Itta Thurnberd. It’s good to have you here, lass.” Itta pushed Arenna to arm’s length with a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m the castle’s alchemist. Potions, little nicknacks, that sort of thing.”
Arenna smiled at the older Fae’s warmth. “I would love to see your apothecary sometime. I’ve always been fascinated by tonics.”
In an instant, Arenna was wrapped tightly in Itta’s embrace. “Oh, how I would love that!” she exclaimed, squeezing tighter.
The scent of vanilla enveloped Arenna, pulling her back to memories of her mother.
Despite herself, she leaned deeper into the hug, desperate to savor the moment.
She would never hold her mother again, never recall the exact feeling of being safe in her arms, but this—this was the closest she could get.
Suddenly, a tremor rippled beneath her skin. The heat of flames licked at her bones, vibrating inside her, sharp enough to break her embrace with the alchemist. Arenna quickly pulled away, smoothing her vest as though there were wrinkles to fix, having no idea of what just happened.
“Good to have you here,” Itta said, patting her cheek before turning to link arms with Kayson. He didn’t glance back as the two of them disappeared down the hall.
Arenna rubbed her hands together, driving away the burning heat inside her veins.
She couldn’t find the thoughts or words to explain what emotions rattled in her chest after embracing the alchemist. But the way her fire stirred, the way it heated—it was as if the power within her recognized Itta somehow, in some way.
The thought was as unsettling as it was confusing.
Bramnen cleared his throat, and she turned to find a slender, striking female standing beside him. “This is Selphia,” he said, his cheeks flushed as he gently guided the female forward. “She will be your chambermaid.”
“Oh, that really isn’t necessary,” Arenna began, waving her hand dismissively.
“It’s my honor, Firewielder,” Selphia said, her voice warm and genuine. Her angular brown eyes glowed softly in the dimming sunlight streaming through the open arches of the hallway.
Arenna bit the inside of her cheek. Selphia’s innocent demeanor reminded her so much of Isabella that it hurt. “If you’re sure. But if you’re needed elsewhere—”
“Nonsense,” she interrupted with a graceful wave. “Like I said, it’s an honor to serve.” Selphia’s smile was bright and sincere, radiating an undeniable kindness.
Arenna didn’t like the idea of being served again. She longed for a normal life—though that dream felt far away. To truly grow into her own person, she needed room to breathe. “Selphia?”
“Yes, Firewielder?” Golden beads threaded through Selphia’s midnight hair clinked softly as she turned.
“I’m grateful for your help.” The memories of Jaksen’s control lingered, his dictates on her attire, her actions, her very identity. “I will not ask you to leave, but I also need to do things for myself.”
“I understand,” Selphia said, her smile unwavering. “I will always ask before acting. If there’s something you don’t want me to do, just say the word.”
Arenna let out a deep breath, relief flooding through her. “Thank you.” She gripped the chambermaid’s hands, sincerity etched in her voice. “Really, thank you.”
Selphia nodded, her expression warm. “Come,” she said, motioning toward a pair of golden double doors. “I’ll show you to your room.”
Arenna’s chest tightened with a strange mix of disbelief and realization. It was becoming harder to deny that everything she’d learned about the Fae might have been a lie.
Aside from a few gruff personalities, they had shown her kindness—patience, even. They welcomed her, not with fear or hatred, but with open hands.
The stories she’d been raised on, the warnings, the hatred—it all felt like a carefully constructed illusion.
And for the first time, Arenna truly began to believe that both Jaksen and his ancestors had strung a perfect, intricate web of lies.
As they walked, Arenna soaked in every detail of the castle. The architecture was old yet brilliant. Wooden columns lined each hallway, reaching toward the ceiling before arching overhead. There were hardly any portraits or decorations, save for the golden runners on the polished flooring.
Selphia guided them down a narrow hall filled with large windows and dark green curtains. To her right, a set of doors stood slightly ajar. For reasons she couldn’t quite understand, Arenna felt a tug in her chest, urging her to peek inside the dimly lit room.
Selphia noticed. “It’s the throne room. I can show you, if you’d like.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” Arenna replied, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. But Selphia waved her off and slowly eased the door open, the hinges creaking softly as it swung wide.
Inside, two identical black thrones loomed at the opposite end of the room. Three oval, floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around them, bathing the space in a warm, glittering, orange glow from the setting sun.
Yet, even from across the room, Arenna saw dust coating the thrones, matting the dark material to the point that it almost seemed intentional.
Though the room was lined with green-and-white walls—remnants of once-thriving foliage—and illuminated by massive chandeliers, it felt untouched by time.
Cobwebs clung to the corners of the walls, draping the sconces and dangling off the railing that wrapped around the second-story balcony.
A thin layer of dust coated the polished floor, preserving the footprints that Arenna and Selphia left behind.
“King Kayson has never sat upon that throne,” Selphia murmured.
Arenna turned to the chambermaid, confused. “You mean to tell me that after decades of ruling, the king has yet to sit on his own throne?”
“It is not my place to tell you his reasons,” Selphia replied, her tone gentle. “But,” she placed a reassuring hand in Arenna’s, “I hope that you will help him bring the change that he needs. That we all need.”
* * *
After several silent minutes of walking, Arenna learned that Castle Worden was an endless maze of daunting staircases and long hallways. She would need a map just to navigate her way through the brightly lit corridors to her chambers.
Breathless and panting from climbing an especially twisted staircase, Selphia finally pushed open a wooden door at the end of the hall.
“This is my chamber?” Arenna asked, entering and running her fingers along the desk in the corner. It was simple yet beautifully carved, used for only a small pot of ink, a quill, and a stack of blank parchment.
The rest of the furniture matched the desk: an armoire, two dressers, and a vanity—all crafted from the same white wood and decorated with intricate blue designs that seemed as old as the castle itself.
“All yours,” Selphia replied, a bright grin lighting up her ivory complexion. “Itta took the liberty of making sure your dressers were stocked with clothing. Feel free to dig around and see what you like so I can order you more.”
Arenna nodded, grateful. “Thank you, Selphia. That is awfully kind of you.”
“Happy to assist,” the chambermaid said cheerfully. “There will be a feast tonight to welcome home the king and his council. I’ll come back to help you dress and prepare in a few hours.”
With that, Selphia left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. As the sound of the latch clicked, Arenna took a moment to breathe, absorbing her surroundings and the sense of possibility that lay before her.
The room stood two stories high, but the upper portion held no balcony or walkway, only intricate stonework and arched windows.
Blue-gray walls were adorned with golden lattice designs, each one well-made and well planned.
Four magnificently tall windows took up the entirety of one wall, cream-colored curtains fluttering in the chilled breeze. Arenna ran her hand along each one.
She took her time looking through the space, familiarizing herself with the exits and entrances, noting everything that could be used as an escape or items that could become weapons. There was one door, a dozen windows, and one balcony, along with countless table legs and wooden posts.
Arenna stepped onto the terrace, gripping the railing of her half-circle balcony.
Five arched pillars lined the length of the railing, twisting vines growing around each one.
She plucked a white rose from one of the dangling vines, inhaling deeply into the folds of the petals.
It had been many years since she had smelled a flower, and she couldn’t wrap her mind around getting to do it twice in one day.
Craydon, even in its glory years when trees grew and birds sang, had never looked like this, and Arenna hated that for her former people, the humans she had left behind.
Before she could think any more about it, she walked back inside, slightly closing the balcony doors and pulling over the thick, creamy curtains.
She sat on her large, canopied bed. Four pillars connected to the mattress frame vaulted into the ceiling, their color the same white as the stones outside.
Gauzy, sheer curtains cascaded down from a marble slab high above the silver headboard, pooling against the mattress and the floor like a waterfall of white.
Arenna wasted no time kicking off her boots, peeling off her dirty leathers, and crawling underneath the pale blue duvet, pulling it up to her chin. She sank into the mattress, melting against its warmth.
Her eyelids fluttered. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was from the journey here or how much she missed the magnificent bed she had in Brookworth. Winds picked up, slightly pushing open Arenna’s white balcony doors and letting in the scent of potent pine.
Arenna fell asleep just minutes later to the sound of rushing water below, feeling a warmth in her chest she thought she would never experience again. She didn’t know if she even deserved such a thing.
For the first time in a long while, Arenna did not have a single nightmare. Rather, she had a marvelous dream of chocolate croissants and a king who might change her life for the better.