Page 61 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Kayson Valor held the shivering Firewielder close to his chest, easing her into the water with a carefulness he hardly recognized in himself.

Strength had been his foundation since boyhood—not just physical, but mental.

He was taught to be disciplined, obedient.

Ruthless and cunning, but never gentle. His grandfather would roll in his grave if he could see him now.

As his arms sank fully beneath the water, lowering Arenna, all those lessons seemed to dissolve. The only thing that mattered was ensuring her eyes opened again. He hadn’t waited over two-hundred years for a Firewielder just to watch her burn out during training.

He hated how much he cared, even more so that Arenna had awakened this feeling in him. He was always at war with her, and with himself. But the longer she stayed under his roof, the more time they spent together, the more Kayson realized she wasn’t at all what he had expected.

And that realization was going to be his undoing.

He knew exactly who Arenna Steele was, even if she refused to admit it herself.

But what he thought he knew didn’t align with the woman who trained relentlessly, who rose before dawn and studied the land, familiarizing herself with every inch of it and the staff he had employed and protected for years. She was kind to his people, to him.

It gnawed at him how easily everyone seemed to like her, how quickly they forgot the past. He couldn’t accept that.

Yet, when he was with her, he found himself doing the very same thing.

And it frustrated him to no end. He wanted to hate her.

Kayson wanted to use her to fix the world, then send her on her way.

But part of him didn’t.

And that terrified him.

So, Kayson vowed to bury those feelings deep—so deep they would never see the light of day, withering away in the dark where they belonged.

Kayson took a deep breath. Arenna’s eyes remained closed, but her teeth rattled, her skin a blue hue. Her small frame was begging for warmth, yet he refused to pull her from the pond until he knew she was fully extinguished.

While drawing from her reservoir, she had somehow dug deep enough to summon the scorching embers of blue flame.

Kayson knew that level of magic was always possible for a Firewielder, as if she were unlocking new depths of power.

But he hadn’t imagined it would happen so quickly, especially with her lack of training.

It made him wonder how powerful she truly was, and what she might be capable of after years of discipline. She needed to understand her power to reach its full potential, and Kayson feared she was far from it.

Arenna whimpered in short waves of agony, the sound gnawing at his heart.

He had placed a ward around her before she even attempted to summon flame to her fingers, a precaution in case something like this happened.

He had been right to do so, keeping her from destroying the forest or anything else in the vicinity.

He knew her flame wouldn’t burn her within the ward’s dome of safety, but he hadn’t even considered the smoke.

Within minutes, it had turned the purple hue into a dark gray.

He had been so focused on stopping the fire that he hadn’t noticed it.

Not until it was suffocating her.

He had no choice but to close the ward around her, pressing the flame and smoke against her skin. He had to snuff it out, had to get the fire to stop—and then deal with the consequences.

Now, as she lay unconscious in his arms, her body fully submerged in the murky water except for her face, he wasn’t sure he had done the right thing.

“What happened?” Itta rushed from the tree line, a satchel bouncing over her shoulder as she hurried toward the water. “Did she burn out?”

The Fae King examined Arenna’s hands. They remained pale, but her fingers were streaked with gray. “No,” he said. “Though her fingers are a darker gray than the last time she nearly burned out.”

More often than not, Kayson was grateful for the ability to speak into the minds of his loyalists.

As King of Worden, he was granted Fae powers he wasn’t born with, such as warding.

He was also given the Runes Vow, which allowed those loyal to him and those working closely by his side to communicate telepathically within a certain distance after a ceremonial binding.

As soon as Arenna’s fire had been snuffed by his ward, Kayson had called for the alchemist to bring a revival tonic—something that could prevent the burnout from fully taking over. There were limits, though, as the severity of burnout varied, but if treated in time, it could usually be avoided.

“Odd,” Itta muttered, opening her brown bag and gesturing for Kayson to bring Arenna closer to the water’s edge.

He waded carefully, still holding the unconscious Firewielder. “She’s horribly undisciplined, but I’ve never seen anyone on the edge of burnout so quickly, especially someone new to their power.”

Itta pulled several tonics from her bag, inspecting each before setting them on the wet grass. “It begs the question: how powerful is she?” Her blue eyes flicked up toward his.

“It would make sense,” Kayson said thoughtfully. “That her power might be too great for her to handle right now, and our usual methods could be doing more harm than good.”

Itta nodded, then parted Arenna’s blue lips and poured a green tonic between them. “We haven’t seen a Firewielder since the beginning of this world, King Kayson. She needs to be treated with care. We don’t know the full extent of her power or how uncontrollable it really is.”

Kayson hummed in agreement.

“Kenia was the only one to ever control, summon, and wield fire. There are artifacts, journals, and texts left by the Drakains. They might hold the answers we seek.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Teach her the ways of the Draka.”

His head snapped up. “Why?”

“Princess Kenia was the only other Firewielder in the history of Pheanixios,” Itta said, placing a cool rag on Arenna’s forehead and gently blotting her skin. “Maybe by studying the culture and history of dragons, she’ll understand her power better. Maybe Kenia left something helpful behind.”

“I see.” Kayson glanced once again toward Arenna. “We don’t have much time left—”

“And you will never achieve your desire should she burn out.” Itta placed a hand atop his own, hers wrinkled against his.

He hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right. She cannot fulfill her role if she has no power.” Kayson ran a hand through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time.

At last, Arenna cooled, her trembling subsiding.

“Get her home safely,” Kayson ordered. It took all his strength to hand the Firewielder over to Itta, forcing himself to stay behind instead of following to ensure she was safe in her own bed. Boundaries had to be set, and he feared crossing that line would only make things worse.

Itta smiled, slipping a capsule beneath her tongue before rippling away with Arenna limp against her chest.

Kayson’s heart tightened as they disappeared from view. He carefully climbed out of the water, and walked to the space they trained in.

Dumbfounded with emotion and confusion, Kayson stayed in the middle of the forest, savoring the quiet for another moment.

Darkened clouds formed overhead, and within minutes, rain fell.

The scent was comforting and familiar, calming the Fae King from the inside out.

His heart was pounding, blood roaring, and he did not know why.

Kayson tilted his head back, allowing water to splatter against his heated skin. It had been so long since he simply stood in the rain and drenched himself, as if it could wash everything about him away.

For the first time in what felt like years, he felt the slightest hint of peace. Dark clouds separated, granting the smallest fraction of sunlight to pour through. He was bathed in yellow, rain on his cheeks and warmth in his chest.

He smiled up at the sky for a reason he did not know, soaking in a moment when he didn’t have to be king. He could just be Kayson. And he still did not know who that person was, but he was starting to enjoy finding out.

* * *

Kayson decided to walk back to the castle rather than ripple like Itta and Arenna had. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked through the small forest of the valley, reminiscing on the memories he made here as a child.

More times than he could count, Hadley and Amend ran through these trees, their laughter echoing through the valley for miles, sometimes even loud enough that Kayson could hear it from the training pit.

His chest ached at the thought, but he placed a hand over his heart, tapping as if he could physically touch the warm memory of his younger siblings.

It was better to fill his head with good thoughts rather than the last memories he had of them. Rain pelted his skin, and the king closed his eyes, hoping it would be enough to wash away the sudden images of his brother’s slit throat and his sister’s broken neck.

It never was, though. And he feared those images might haunt him until the Seven recalled his tattered soul to the Realms or cast him down to the Sorrows, where he deserved to end up.

An unfamiliar noise sounded in Kayson’s right ear before he could dwell on his siblings’ deaths for another second. He cocked his head, ear twitching to better hear the heavy sound that had not been a part of this valley before.

Minutes ticked by before he heard it again. He pulled his scythe from the sheath on his back, carefully timing his movements with the crack of thunder so he would not attract whatever was lurking nearby.

Keeping his head on a swivel, Kayson scanned left and right for any movement in the dense evergreens.

Rain continued to fall, splattering against the moss-covered floor and the thick branches above him.

The noise drowned everything else out, and despite his incredible Fae hearing, he could not detect the sound again.