Page 48 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Arenna kept her head down, silent. This wasn’t the first time she had been in a room where she had no voice or been spoken about as if she didn’t exist. Jaksen had always ensured she was escorted like his pet but never allowed to speak.

Rodsan hissed a quiet warning, “Eldric.”

The elder councilman shot a glare at Rodsan. “I do not think it is wise.”

Arenna glanced up briefly. Kayson’s jaw muscle tightened, the grinding of his teeth evident. “Because our lands are always changing,” he continued, ignoring Eldric’s interruption, “it makes it more difficult for Brookworth to plan an attack.”

“And you are capable of this because you are the Earthbender?” Arenna asked, running her sweaty palms down her thighs.

Kayson nodded.

Bramnen glanced at Arenna. “I’m sure you are familiar with the Houses of Vlazias?”

“Hardly,” she replied. “There’s little information about Vlazias in Varios. We only had basic details about Worden and the Houses and the ports, but not much else.” She noticed the subtle smiles on both Marea’s and Kayson’s faces. They took pride in the fact that their enemies knew so little.

Just then, the doors at the end of the hall swung open. A shorter male compared to his companions slipped in like a shadow, dressed in green and black with a single steel blade strapped to his back.

The sides of his head were shaved, with a thick mop of dark brown hair tied at the crown. A jagged scar ran down the right side of his face, cutting straight through his eye.

“Wylder,” Kayson called. “Is all well?”

Wylder gave a curt nod before sinking into the open seat between Marea and the king. He seemed entirely detached, unaware of everything and everyone around him. His eyes were black, shimmering like oil.

“Arenna,” Kayson began, “this is Wylder, my Lord of Shades. He—” The king stopped as a choking sound came from Wylder’s lips.

Bramnen nudged him in the ribs, but there was no response.

The king eyed Wylder nervously, the color draining from his face. “Dammit,” Marea muttered, immediately kneeling at Wylder’s side. She grabbed a knife from her belt and placed it against the Lord of Shades’ hand, dragging it across and spilling blood.

Arenna flinched.

Bramnen placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” he assured.

“Is something wrong with him?” Arenna asked.

“Wylder is a Soulwalker,” Kayson explained. “His ability allows him to enter anyone’s mind, anywhere, at any time. But it’s more than just seeing into someone’s thoughts. He becomes part of them. He walks where they walk, breathes their air, feels their emotions.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to get him back,” Marea added, her voice cracking.

Each word seemed to pain her as she scanned the Soulwalker’s features.

“There is a price to his magic, and a piece of his soul does not venture back with him.” She ran her thumb across the fresh wound before pressing.

Wylder’s body reacted, though he made no indication he had returned.

“Sometimes the only way to bring a Soulwalker back is to tether them to their body with pain.”

Arenna noticed tons of tiny white lines dotting the male’s skin, as if this happened often. She hesitated, not wanting to pry, but ultimately asked, “And his soul? What happens if he loses it entirely?”

Bramnen swallowed, the movement pained. “He becomes a Hollow.” The room fell silent, even the rushing water seeming to quiet from the tension.

“He would become a shadow of his former self, haunting the minds of others and unable to leave the mental side of reality for too long. He would no longer be able to distinguish his own thoughts from others, eternally trapped in a web of broken memories.”

“It was more common when the power first revealed itself generations ago,” Marea added, “but now, it’s more rare. Soulwalkers know the risk and often don’t use their powers, if they can avoid it.” She ran a hand down Wylder’s arm.

Arenna asked, “Can he control it?” She studied the male, unsure why, at this moment, he would have chosen to go elsewhere.

“Not if the tug is strong enough,” Kayson answered, his features laced with pain. Arenna wasn’t used to seeing anything but anger on him. “Sometimes, there is something happening the Seven force him to see.”

There wasn’t anything else to ask. Arenna completely understood the kind of risk, and for whatever reason, her heart ached for him.

Three antler chandeliers above the table began to shake. Debris fell from the ceiling, the stone walls rattling, as if Wylder’s magic was so powerful the entire castle trembled.

“Come home, Wyld,” Marea whispered. “Worden is your home. Kayson, Bramnen, Marea, we are your family.”

Family. Not council members.

With a gasp, the whites of the Soulwalker’s wide eyes faded from black. He breathed rapidly, his hands fisting the golden table runner. “Where . . . where—”

Marea threw her arms around his neck. Her armor had been so stone-cold, Arenna was beginning to think Marea didn’t even possess such emotions. “Home.”

Wylder placed his hand on the arm slung around his neck. “Home,” he repeated. A shudder ran through him as he took in his surroundings, like he was proving to himself he was actually back.

“Where did you go?” Kayson asked.

“Serpents,” Wylder whispered, “I was in Brookworth.”

Arenna’s blood ran cold, and everyone’s head snapped to her.

“He knows where you are.”