Page 67 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Of all the places Kayson could have planned for them to go, Emerlon was the last that Arenna expected. But as they walked down the cobbled path leading through the gates into the city, she would not complain—not when every inch of her was humming with excitement.

Nearly every night, Arenna drifted off to sleep with the soft, harmonious sounds of violins, flutes, and cellos wafting through her balcony doors.

Some nights it was more wild with drums, bagpipes, and banjos.

She imagined what it was like and how it would feel to walk through the streets surrounded by such music.

From a distance, Emerlon had not felt as tall as it did now. Of course, she was miles away, perched on a thick mountain in one of the tallest towers of the castle, and yet she still did not expect the towering half-timbered homes of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Blue-tiled roofs glistened beneath the beating sun, and stained glass windows covered the fronts of the homes and buildings. Nearly all of them had flower boxes. Fae bustled and bounded through the paved streets. Some pushed wagons, and others rode mighty mares and stallions.

Arenna stopped walking, her heart racing as she took it all in.

“Welcome to Emerlon,” Kayson said over his shoulder, continuing up the cobble path.

She forced her feet to move again, but hung back and watched the king move through his city. She noted his intimidating force as they walked through the busy streets, standing taller and wider than most of the males. Each individual they passed either bowed at the waist or dipped their chin.

She saw how it was done out of respect, not compulsion.

And she did not welcome how that made her feel.

As they strode beneath one of the many covered walkways, Arenna found herself gravitating closer to the center of the street.

Buildings stretched tall and wide for miles, and her eyes could not take it all in fast enough.

Unlike the rolling hills of the valley, Emerlon’s buildings nearly touched each other.

Trees covered every inch of unused space, while vines and flowers crept up the walls.

They turned the corner at the end of the road, stepping atop a small bridge that overlooked the roaring Sylvania River.

Foliage clung to the sides of the bridge and hung in the way of small boats and canoes passing beneath.

An older male in one of those boats smiled up at her, his dark skin wrinkling at his eyes.

She grinned back, happy to find two little ones in the back of his boat, shoving and laughing.

“It’s beautiful here,” Arenna admitted. There was so much to take in, so much to see. So much to feel . It was so enchanting and welcoming that she even found herself wanting to stay here after all this was done, even if it was in Kayson’s kingdom.

“It is.” The king slowed his pace to fall in step beside her. “I take great pride in the Fae who live in this city and in the valley. They’re good. And kind.”

A comforting silence fell over them, one Arenna didn’t mind for once. More often than not, when the king grew silent, her worries increased. But right now, she felt not a lick of worry or doubt.

Two figures caught the corner of her eye.

Standing outside a small tea shop, a couple embraced one another.

The female rested her back against the stone wall while he stood over her, running a thumb down the side of her cheek.

A crack inside Arenna’s heart fractured as she watched them.

They seemed so innocent, so in love. She blinked and turned back toward the path ahead.

She hadn’t realized she had stopped walking, nor that the king had as well.

His eyes roamed over her face, then to the couple. It took him a while to ask, “Did he truly give you something to love?”

Emotions threatened to rip her apart from the inside out. Her chest burned with each breath, the pain in her heart almost too much to bear. “I was very young when I was brought to Brookworth,” Arenna admitted. “At first, he was my friend . . . and as we grew, things changed.”

They started walking again, close enough that their bodies brushed occasionally. Arenna did not pull away as she usually did, rather enjoying the small comfort of another’s touch—no matter how little it was.

“There was a short period where I was not sure I could breathe if he were not in the room,” she whispered, shoving her hands into the pockets of her cloak.

“I was young, in love, and feeling the pressure of becoming queen.” Tears welled on her lash line.

“He was kind, and sweet, and everything I needed when grieving the loss of my mother and home. Being with Jaksen meant protection. Stability. The opportunity to eat clean, fresh food . . . and never have to wonder if that day would be the one you die from dehydration.”

Kayson stiffened beside her, but he remained quiet, listening.

“Before whatever he is now, Jaksen was a good man.” The king stiffened again, taking a step away from her this time.

Arenna felt the need to elaborate, disliking Kayson’s withdrawal from her personal space.

“I know it’s hard to see that, after all he has done.

But I believed he loved me at one point,” she whispered.

“Now I know that isn’t true, but he was really good at making it seem so. ”

“News of your wedding did not sit well in my home,” Kayson said.

“But I would be lying if I said I did not wonder about you.” Red stained the tips of Arenna’s ears as she kept her eyes on her boots.

“I wondered if you were forced into the marriage. Or maybe you were as wicked as the rest of the Steeles, loyally and willingly binding yourself to a man like Jaksen.” He stopped walking and turned to fully face her. “Did you love him then?”

Her lower lip trembled for a heartbeat until Arenna bit the inside of it, reminding herself to let it all go.

“With everything I could give, I loved him. Especially on the day I became his wife.” Dread swirled in her belly.

She scanned his golden eyes, waiting for his response, realizing she cared what he thought of her.

Jaw tightening, he looked away.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Kayson’s gaze grew distant. “No,” he answered.

“It blinds you. Love makes you see the good in a person, no matter how bad it is.” Arenna wrapped her arms around herself.

“It makes you believe they will change.” It hurt to remember the life she thought she would have had with Jaksen.

It hurt even more to remember how badly she ached the first time he hit her—not from the abuse, but from the betrayal.

From the realization that the man she loved, cherished, and vowed to protect her from it all, was the one who brought the pain.

“I know,” he whispered. When she looked at him, Kayson’s face was twisted in pain. She wondered if he too knew what it felt like to be blinded by another, so sure they would behave differently because they loved you.

As the king started walking again, Arenna released a breath that burned her throat. She took a moment to gather herself before quickly catching up to his steady strides.

Arenna rubbed at the wide cuffs of her green gown. Needing to change the subject, she said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Would you refrain if I said no?”

She smiled. “I’d like to see more,” Arenna muttered, feeling oddly bashful. “Would that be possible before we begin studying?”

“Sure, Arenna.” Kayson pushed his hands into his pockets. Things had been different between them for weeks now. Nothing romantic, just friendly. She hadn’t been as bothered by his constant presence, and he seemed to enjoy her company during training.

As they continued on, Arenna noted the iron signs hanging above each door, offering a glimpse of what lay inside. There were plenty of blacksmiths, bakeries, butcher shops, taverns, armorers, carpenters, and potters.

Above her head, strings of colorful flags zigzagged in the late winter breeze. To their right was the roaring Sylvania River, cutting through the city in a snake-like pattern. Children dangled small rods with fishing line into the water from a small bridge, giggling and kicking their little feet.

Arenna could not remember the last time she saw children in her own kingdom behaving— well , like children.

They were born into ashen lands with soil that hardened their stomachs and water that clouded their minds.

Boys were conditioned from a young age to grow in strength and brutality to fight in Brookworth’s armies, while girls were taught to mend broken bones and stop bleeding wounds.

Between the decaying lands and an abusive husband, it was as if Arenna had forgotten what life was like. She had forgotten what it meant to be a person, to live in a world unclouded by fear and pain. She had forgotten what it was like to enjoy things.

Heart in her throat, Arenna swallowed. If anything, everything she saw gave her just one more reason why she had to make this work, why she had to train, to be better, and to learn.

Koltin and Isabella deserved to live in a world like Emerlon, free of fear, war, and suffering.

Fae and humans alike deserved a life like this.

Arenna looked up at the king, at the chestnut strands of hair curling against the collar of his jacket. She didn’t mind finding his eyes already watching her. He smiled softly at her, one side of his mouth lifting.

It might have been hours since they left the castle, or less—Arenna did not know. Kayson hadn’t said a word as he led her through the streets of Emerlon, past shops with large windows and perfectly smooth paint. Music—from banjos, violins, and drums—poured from open windows of taverns.

Fae paid her no attention—not that she expected or wanted them to—as they walked.

Everyone, however, either stopped and bowed to Kayson or dipped their chins in acknowledgment.

She had seen this once before in Alariane, but it was even stranger to witness in the Kingdom of Worden from those living closest to him, just outside his walls.

Despite their obvious show of respect and admiration, they treated him like anyone else.

There was no large entourage, no armored guards or horses blocking his body from the spectators.

He walked among them like a fish moving upstream, not batting an eye.

Every time she and Jaksen left their home, they were accompanied by at least a dozen soldiers mounted on armored stallions, their hips gleaming with sharpened blades even larger than the ones on their backs.

Soldiers were always posted outside their carriage, and sometimes one even rode inside.

Jaksen never moved without protection, and she wondered why that had never struck her as odd while they were married.

She had always assumed it was protocol. Of course the king needed to be protected at all times.

But now, watching Kayson smile and nod at those he passed, she realized there was a better way.

His people had no desire to harm him, so what would he need protection from?

What goodness had this male truly done to earn such a response?

And what had Jaksen done to her people that inspired their violence?

When they turned down an old road called Main, the first shop on the right was the brightest on the street, even though it was the smallest. On either side of the door were oval-shaped platform windows, where various gowns and suits were displayed.

Her heart skipped a beat when she caught her reflection in the glass, her head perfectly aligned with the v-neck cut of a purple gown.

“My sister loved gowns,” Arenna whispered, feeling the weight of Kayson’s stare on her skin. “My mother could never afford the gowns the local seamstress made, but Faylen and I would always visit the shop and wear the dresses in our reflections.”

Something in the air shifted, drawing her gaze to the king. His stare was cold, distant, as he too looked into the glass.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, stepping in front of him to better see his expression.

When he didn’t answer right away, a sinking feeling formed in her gut. She didn’t know why it was there or what had brought it on, but it lingered and grew until she placed a hand on his arm and asked her question again.

This time, his eyes found hers and softened. As soon as their gazes locked, the feeling faded. “Everything is fine,” he said too quickly. “But the day is nearly spent, and we need to read. Sightseeing will have to continue another day.”

Kayson didn’t wait for a response as he sauntered up the small, paved hill. She stood quietly for a moment, keeping her eyes on his back as he neared the bend.

Arenna took one last glance at her reflection in the seamstress’s window, smiling when tears gathered in her eyes. Faylen was always here, that much she knew. But today, her grief felt different.

She felt free.