Page 52 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Birdsong echoed nearby, drifting in from beyond the stone walls surrounding the training pit.

It had been so long since Arenna had heard anything as peaceful as a bird’s call.

With the Rot’s devastation in Varios, whatever animals remained surely weren’t singing.

She had nearly forgotten the simplicity of such sounds.

She absently ran a hand down her braid, twirling the golden ribbon at its end while waiting for someone to arrive. Selphia had retrieved her as instructed, bringing a fresh set of leathers and insisting on braiding Arenna’s hair before escorting her here.

Arenna inhaled deeply, rolling her shoulders as she mentally prepared for whatever training lay ahead. She hadn’t known what to expect from the pit, but a simple circle of dirt wasn’t it.

Vlazias and Worden were places of sophistication and beauty, where everything was intricate.

Yet here, in the heart of the castle, stood this bare circle of earth, surrounded by tall stone walls and battlements.

Above, only the sky and the tips of pine trees could be seen.

There were no windows, no gates—nothing to show what lay beyond.

“Selphia gave you a golden ribbon, did she?” Marea’s voice cut through the silence as she approached, flicking Arenna’s braid upward in passing. “You’re official now.”

Had Arenna not begun to adjust to the Fae’s stealthy movements, she might have jumped at the sudden sound. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it to the pit floor.

Bramnen smiled as he too walked into the pit and explained, “Gold symbolizes power. Here in Vlazias, when a female”—he glanced at her ears—“or woman is gifted gold as an accessory, it signifies strength found within.”

Arenna swallowed, her fingers once again finding the ribbon in her braid. Her heart tumbled over itself, and tears threatened to rise, but she wouldn’t let them fall—not in front of the Worden council.

She questioned whether she deserved such a symbol. But Arenna vowed never to feel small again. Flames flickered beneath her skin, as if reminding her that her power would prevent it.

“Selphia believes you’ve found your strength,” Marea said. “I say prove it. But I’ll start with . . . you .” She pointed to the Soulwalker, who had slipped in so silently Arenna hadn’t noticed him.

In a blink, the two were locked in a deadly dance.

Arenna watched closely, tracking every step and strike, each fluid motion of their hands and feet.

Training with Koltin had been nothing like this.

These were warriors forged over time, through brutal battles and bloody wars.

Their movements were precise, their eyes unblinking.

“They’re incredible,” Arenna said to Bramnen, sneaking a glance at the Fae. His skin glistened under the morning sun, his lean muscles on display beneath a sleeveless tunic. Like most Fae, Bramnen was strikingly beautiful, his leather gear matching hers.

“ Meh ,” Bramnen waved dismissively. “You give them too much credit. I could take either of them easily.”

Wylder halted mid-fight and shot Bramnen a look. “What did you say?”

“Watch—” Bramnen’s reply was cut off as a right hook struck Wylder's jaw. “—out,” he finished with a smirk.

The Soulwalker doubled over, wiping away the blood trickling from his mouth with the back of his hand. Marea clapped him on the back. “You know better than to get distracted like that.”

Wylder scowled.

“Don’t look so grim, brother,” Marea snickered.

Brother? There was no physical resemblance—Wylder had brown skin and brown eyes, while Marea was pale with blue eyes. But now, the closeness they shared at dinner, and Marea’s worry when the Soulwalker was delayed in returning, all made sense.

“I didn’t know Wylder was your brother,” Arenna said. Something in her chest broke at the mention of a sibling, the death of her sister still raw.

“Not by blood,” Marea replied, grabbing two identical swords and handing one to Arenna. “I was born a bastard. My father couldn’t bear the truth when it came out.” Her voice faltered, and her eyes grew glassy. “He sold me into slavery when I was six.”

The air grew heavy. Bramnen and Wylder remained silent across the pit, though she knew their Fae hearing had caught every word. It seemed they had heard Marea’s story before, but the pain in their faces suggested it never got easier. Her past wounded them as much as it did her.

“I was enslaved in House Casierie for five years, until I bit off Lord Jeriko’s ear and was sent to Greenford. That’s where I met Wylder.” Pain was etched into the Lady Commander’s features, and her cold exterior made a lot more sense. “We grew up together until we escaped and fled to Vlazias.”

Lord Jeriko? Arenna’s heart skipped a beat. Twice . She knew Varios’ history better than anything else. “Jeriko Reen was Lord of Casierie decades ago,” she said. Marea nodded. “That would make you—”

“Two-hundred and fourteen,” Marea cut in. “Making me the oldest of the three of us.” She flicked her chin to Wylder and Bramnen.

“And Kayson?” Arenna dared to ask.

“An old bastard, if you ask me,” Marea replied with a smirk. “Two hundred and twenty-three.”

Arenna tried to conceal her shock, but the commander saw right through her. She had just turned twenty-four this year, and she couldn’t imagine living that long. “How long can Fae live?”

Marea shrugged. “No one knows for sure. But we know of a female who just turned one-thousand one-hundred one.”

Sisters above . Arenna felt thankful for her mortality. “But not immortal?” she asked.

“Hard to kill,” Wylder chimed in, “but not impossible. Fae have remarkable healing abilities, but the right wound in the right place will kill us.”

A heavy silence followed. Arenna glanced toward the commander— really looked at her—and noticed the scars criss crossing her arms and the purplish marks around her wrists from years in shackles.

Her stomach twisted at the recognition from her own skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I—I never knew these things.”

The commander straightened. “There’s no need to apologize. My past shaped me into who I am, and it led me to my family.” Her blue eyes drifted to the males, who were smiling across the pit. “I’d do it all over again if it meant ending up here.”

Silence fell around the training pit, though it didn’t last long.

With a swift motion, Marea pointed the tip of her blade at Arenna’s chest, forcing her to step into the ring.

The blade didn’t penetrate her dragon scale vest. “We aren’t here to dwell on the past or our ages.

We’re here to train you, to see what you’re capable of, and where you need to improve. ”

“I’m no warrior,” Arenna admitted, “but I can hold my own.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bramnen taunted, circling her like a predator. “How’s your endurance? Your strength?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Not great,” she confessed. Bramnen stopped pacing, his sword lowering slightly toward the ground.

The heat in his gaze intensified as he studied her face, then her wrists. She hated the pity she saw in his eyes and in the shared look between Marea and Wylder.

“Give me all you’ve got,” Arenna challenged, striking her steel against his. She couldn’t bear another moment of silence.She wanted to earn their respect, not as a victim, but as a survivor —someone who made something of herself despite the odds.

Marea asked, “Do you know basic swordplay?”

She nodded, tightening her grip on the handle of her sword.

“Let’s see it, human,” Bramnen said with a devious grin. Arenna lunged at him without hesitation. Koltin had taught her to be patient, to let her opponent make the first move. But excitement took over, and she brought her blade down in a flash of steel.

Bramnen easily lifted his sword to block. Sisters, he’s fast .

He struck again, steel clashing as Bramnen pressed forward, hammering her with relentless blows. But Arenna didn’t falter, didn’t tire. She met him strike for strike.

She knew she would have to change tactics soon. Either Bramnen was going easy on her, or she was better than she gave herself credit for. It seemed unlikely, but the thought boosted her confidence.

For the first time, Arenna didn’t feel worthless. Still, she could only keep up this pace for so long. Sooner or later, the weight of the weapon in her hands would add to her demise rather than prevent it.

Bramnen pulled his sword back and swung overhead. Arenna dodged, sliding to the dirt floor and out of reach. She kicked out with her right leg, sweeping his legs out from under him.

His back hit the ground with a heavy thud. She scrambled to her feet, slipping on the grit. The stumble cost her. Bramnen was already back up, his eyes gleaming. “Not bad for a human,” he purred.

Arenna grinned. “Pretty bad for a Fae.”

Bramnen smirked, tossing his sword into the dirt and raising his palms to the sky. “Enough child’s play. Let’s have some real fun.”

“Here we go,” Wylder groaned from the sideline.

The Hand closed his dark eyes, lifting his hands higher as yellow power began to form in his palms. The sun itself seemed to dim as he summoned it. Golden ribbons of light coiled around his forearms and biceps, encasing him in a radiant glow, forming a halo above his tight curls.

Arenna did not know magical abilities could grant a Fae the ability to call on the light, and she made a mental note to ask about his power later.

“Quit showing off,” Marea barked. “Get that crap off your thick head.”

“I’m only getting started.” Bramnen grinned, his eyes gleaming.

Arenna watched in awe as he extended his arms, magic coiling from his body, building into a powerful cloud of light. He brought his hands together in front of his chest, the magic swirling like wind filling sails.

Then, with a sharp movement, Bramnen thrust his palms toward her.

Golden light exploded into a blinding beam, hurtling straight into her chest. Arenna was flung backward, her body crashing into the dirt.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs, and she rolled over gasping as her fists dug into the earth.

She coughed violently, her throat raw and burning.

When the searing in her lungs finally subsided, Arenna closed her eyes. She reached for the reservoir of power within her—the fire she had come to love—even though she barely understood it.

She dipped her hand into the liquid flame, feeling its warmth flow through her fingers. It whispered to her like an old friend.

Hello, friend , it seemed to say.

Hello, you , she answered.

Inside her hollow chest, fire exploded. Heat surged from her heart, spreading through her body as if the organ were pumping flames instead of blood. Arenna had never felt such intensity before.

She drew in a sharp breath, feeling her power steady for just a heartbeat. Then it surged again, wild and untamed, thrashing through her veins, begging to be released. The raw, potent depth of her magic was overwhelming, pulling at her with a force that threatened to take control.

Arenna could do nothing to stop the onslaught of power that erupted from her.

Whether or not her hands were aimed at Bramnen, fire shot from her, skittering across the ground toward him, intent on snuffing out his attack.

She might have screamed if the fire hadn’t filled her throat, burning her from the inside out.

Bramnen stumbled backward, barely managing to raise a circle shield, the black metal concealing his body as the flames crashed against it.

Sweat rolled down Arenna’s temples. Her arms trembled, the heat inside her threatening to consume her whole.

“ Stop! ” someone shouted, though the voice sounded distant, muffled by the roar of her magic. “ Arenna, stop! ”

It wasn’t until the ground beneath her shifted that her flames faltered.

The dirt of the pit rose beneath her feet, transforming into a small hill and sending her sprawling.

Her flames snuffed out as she hit the ground, the impact sending her head spinning, her vision exploding into a kaleidoscope of stars.