Page 57 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Four days had come and gone, and Marea was not taking it easy on her.

Not that Arenna wanted her to or expected any leniency.

Every morning began with a grueling endurance run, circling the training pits for what felt like hours.

When Arenna veered off the path and heaved her guts onto the gritty ground, Marea didn’t break stride, expecting her to catch back up.

And she always did.

The relentless hours spent in the pit had begun to transform Arenna.

She didn’t mind the pain anymore. In fact, she started to enjoy it.

The physical exertion was a welcome distraction from the storm raging within her mind, especially after releasing the beast of her past days prior.

She forced herself to concentrate solely on her training, on her growth, and she vowed never again to let Jaksen make her feel so small again.

With that promise etched in her heart, Arenna made it a point to never miss a session or a meal.

She rested well when nightmares and hallucinations allowed her to, and she studied the white stone fortress’s layout, even becoming friendly with various staff members of Castle Worden.

The only person she truly wanted to rely on was herself, and she was determined to make that a reality.

After endurance training, they transitioned to cardio, followed by strengthening exercises to rebuild her muscles and restore her energy. Life in Brookworth had worn her down, depleting not only her spirit but her body.

During these grueling hours, Arenna often pondered whether this had always been Jaksen’s intention. By denying her nourishment, hydration, and basic comforts, had he aimed to make her reliant on him? Would she, despite everything he had done, remain bound to him indefinitely?

She took a deep breath, shaking off the thought. It didn’t matter anymore. She was here, he was there—and that was the end of it.

Stretching her legs beneath the dining table, she slowly massaged the aches and pains from her calves. Training with Bramnen was only a few short hours away, and she needed to stay loose.

Sparring with the Hand in the afternoons was surprisingly more taxing than training with Marea.

Her arms would tremble and throb after their sessions, her hands swollen and blistered.

Each blade felt twice her size and twice as heavy.

It took conscious effort not to drop the weapon with every swing or deflection, but she would get there.

After a few minutes of groaning and massaging, Arenna sank into her chair and grabbed a fork to dig into her breakfast. For some reason, the food tasted much better in Worden than it ever had in Brookworth.

She had never experienced eggs so decadent and flavorful, nor juice so sweet.

Then again, this was all grown and bred without the devastating effects of the Rot.

Despite her gratitude for the meals and shelter, guilt gnawed at her for the friends she had left behind—especially with their fates still unknown.

Kayson’s Shades had not found them in the Brookworth dungeons or the North Tower.

Though she felt a sense of relief upon hearing that yesterday, the fear for their safety lingered.

But Isabella and Koltin were alive and okay .

She would not accept a different alternative.

Sitting alone at the wooden table, Arenna savored the quiet of the morning as the sun rose over the mountains, casting the dining room in hues of orange and gold.

Breakfast was quickly becoming her favorite meal since she could watch the sunrise over the distant range and witness Vlazias waking up for the day ahead. Brookworth had been so dark and cold—so closed off from the world—that Arenna hadn’t realized how much she needed the sun, the wind, the world.

Footsteps sounded behind her in the dining hall, and Arenna stood and turned before they drew closer. Inside the right-hand door, Eldric glared at her.

Not wanting to be in his presence even a minute, Arenna gathered her things.

“Don’t bother,” he said, limping to the opposite end of the room. “I don’t plan on staying. Cutting through the dining hall is just faster than going down the stairs.”

Arenna sat back down. “Noted,” she replied, watching each of his steps across the marbled floor. His limp was worse today, making the thick, blue jewels dangling from his ears swing hard enough to hit his jaw. His staff was missing. “Do you need help?”

He stopped, turning to face her with a furrowed brow. “ No ,” he grumbled.

“Where’s your staff?” she asked, standing to look for something for him to use.

Arenna didn’t particularly like the male, and he clearly disliked her, but she couldn’t sit by while an elderly Fae hobbled around the room in obvious pain, despite whatever he’d said to her, despite the pain he’d inflicted with the staff.

“It’s gone. I have a new one being made.”

“Well, let’s find something else—”

“Lord Eldric will be going without for the time being,” Selphia said as she strolled into the dining hall. “The king said something along the lines of learning his place .” She tapped her finger against her jaw. “Wasn’t that what he said, Eldric?”

The Lord Justice sneered at Selphia, his jaw clenched so tightly Arenna thought it might break. “Something like that,” he mumbled, hobbling out of the room without another word, slamming the door behind him.

“What a grumpy old male.” Selphia chuckled to herself, setting a small box on the table beside Arenna’s breakfast plate.

“For you. From me. Have a good training session this afternoon.” The chambermaid touched Arenna’s shoulder before nearly dancing out of the room, the long skirt of her burnt-orange gown swaying as she moved.

Arenna laid a hand atop the shoulder still sore from when Eldric had dug his jeweled staff into it. She smiled, emotion catching in her throat, unsure what to make of the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

Brushing aside any unwanted feelings, Arenna opened the brown lid on the small box and pulled out the stuffing. Her lips parted as she lifted two gold bracelets from the bottom, realizing the jewelry was designed to resemble twisting, burning flames—much like they were dancing off a log.

A piece of parchment fluttered off the lid, landing in her lap. There was a heaviness in her chest as she read the neatly written script:

For your wrists.

Not to cover your scars, but to show the strength of how you survived.

Arenna blinked back the tears, running a finger over each band before slipping them over her hands. She stared at them briefly, wondering what she had done to deserve such kindness.

The sound of laughter and footsteps in the distance floated through the open dining hall door. Startled, she scrambled to her feet, flinging herself from her chair. She had purposely arrived before everyone else, not wanting to impose on their routines or conversations.

After draining her juice and taking another bite of eggs and bread, Arenna gathered her dishes and strode toward the doors. She cursed herself for not leaving sooner.

Just as she neared the exit, Wylder stepped through the threshold, a steaming bowl of porridge in his hands. “Firewielder,” he said, offering a warm smile. “Have you already eaten?” He glanced at her half-finished plate.

“Uh, yes . I’m full. Got to get down to the pit and train,” she spluttered, brushing past him, heat flooding her cheeks.

“We aren’t that bad,” Marea chimed in. Her and Bramnen funneled in the same door, walking to the table with Wylder.

Arenna was caught off guard by the kindness in the commander’s voice, more so than the invitation itself. She turned to face them. “I really need to get back down to the pits.”

“We don’t spar for another two hours,” Bramnen countered.

Rats . She shrugged. “I want to train on my own for a bit.”

“Oh, stop it, would you?” The annoyance in Bramnen’s normally playful voice made her pause. She gripped the edges of her porcelain plate, unwilling to meet their gaze. “We know you eat here alone every morning. We normally try not to impose on you.”

“What?” Arenna laughed awkwardly. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is your home.”

“It’s yours too,” Kayson said from behind.

Arenna didn’t dare turn back to the dining hall door, afraid he might see her flushed cheeks. Silent— deadly silent—the king walked up beside her. His scent of rain filled the space, and she struggled not to inhale deeper as she looked up at him.

“Only for the time being,” she corrected. “Once we save the world, I’m off. Remember?”

Kayson smiled, though it barely lifted the weight in his eyes. “How could I forget?” He walked through the dining hall doors, setting his plate down in front of his usual seat at the head of the table. Marea, Bramnen, and Wylder followed.

She always wondered why Eldric and Rodsan never ate with them, or ever really seemed to be a part of this smaller, more intimate group.

Arenna’s heart ached as she watched them, the relentless pain in her chest for her friends and sister intensifying.

Eating with Kayson and his court felt like a betrayal to her own.

Why should she enjoy these delicious, hot meals with people who could easily become friends while her own were out there suffering, struggling, and fighting to survive?

When Faylen was brutally murdered and gone forever?

The thought made Arenna’s breakfast churn in her stomach. She needed to get out of here. She needed to train, to feel useful, to do the only thing that could help her friends and this world. She couldn’t help anyone by sitting around a table, enjoying a meal with Kayson and his council.

Lost in her thoughts, Arenna didn’t notice when Kayson stood, nor did she register the bags under his eyes or his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black pants. His hair was ruffled, as if he had been running a hand through its chestnut waves in frustration.

“Have breakfast with me,” Kayson said.

Not with them, but with him .

A flutter stirred in her stomach, but Arenna pushed it down, burying it deep enough to ignore. She couldn’t afford to feel that way toward anyone. She was broken, unlovable, unfixable. “I can’t,” was all she dared to say.

“Hope you didn’t overeat,” Bramnen called from the table. “We have a lot of cardio today.”

Kayson’s gaze lingered on her, tracing her body before settling on her arms hidden beneath the loose fabric of her shirt. His sharp features softened as he took in her form.

She had been filling out, yes, but it still wasn’t enough.

Ignoring the urge to cover herself, Arenna straightened, refusing to feel ashamed of the body that had endured so much violence and hardship.

“Eat as much as you please.” He gripped his chair tightly, knuckles turning white. Then Kayson focused back on the table. “You will rest today.”