Page 68 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Kayson brought Arenna to a beautiful and comfortable tavern called Ironveil, which stood three stories tall. Each window was handcrafted in stained glass, depicting the four elements: mountains for earth, clouds for air, waves for water, and—

Arenna placed her hand on the fourth glass, the mosaic of red, orange, and gold. She traced the edge of one of the three flames, feeling her own power stirring within. “The elements,” she whispered, “why are they everywhere?”

“Elemental power means everything to this kingdom, and to this continent. You will come to learn what Fae, Draka, and Medryd endured during the conquest, and you’ll see why my kind has held so tightly to the prophecy.”

She felt a pang of guilt, recalling how, not too long ago, she had thought the prophecy was nothing more than a fairytale told to children before bed. “I always thought it was a nice idea, but I never believed it would actually come true.”

“How come?”

Part of her didn’t want to answer. “Things were so bad in Brookworth; it was hard to find the light within the dark.”

His golden eyes met hers, shimmering like coins. “And now?”

“Well, now I have no choice but to believe it’s true.” She raised her hands, trying to summon even a spark. “I know this is no coincidence.”

“I meant about the light. Do you still feel trapped in the dark?”

She didn’t know how to answer his question.

“Some days are good; most are not.” Living in a constant state of guilt for leaving her friends, joy for being free, fear of being found, but also hope that she would be okay, did not make her days easy.

Arenna couldn’t meet his eyes when she said, “But when I find myself in the dark, the scent of rain guides me home.”

Kayson went wholly, utterly still.

She didn’t think of Kayson as home. But these lands, his kingdom, his castle— they felt like home.

Or at least the idea of what she believed home could and should be.

Ever since stepping off the Hadley and onto Vlazian soil, Arenna had felt the rain in a cloudless sky, and somewhere in the months she had been here, that scent had woven itself into the very fabric of her being.

Music swallowed the words Kayson might have said, if he had any at all. Bagpipes, banjos, drums, and violins filled the air. It was the same music she had heard late at night; the music she so desperately longed to be part of.

Arenna didn’t wait for the king as she opened the door, her green-colored skirt swishing at her feet.

Fae, old and young, male and female, danced and spun, clanking their tankards high in the air, amber liquid spilling over the rims. She couldn’t understand the words, but she felt them deep within her bones.

“This song is lovely,” she whispered, placing a hand over her heart. The tone was both upbeat and melancholy, powerful yet enchanting. She had never heard anything like it, nor felt such a pull toward music.

“It’s one of our oldest,” Kayson said, falling into step beside her. He shrugged off his cloak and slung it over a nail in the wall. “It’s called Song of Fire .”

Arenna smiled at the name. “What are they singing?” On a platform near the hearth, a man was pouring his soul into the lyrics. The Fae around him sang back softly, creating a hauntingly beautiful harmony that filled the room.

“He’s singing about the day the dragons fell.”

A chill ran down her spine.

“It’s a remembrance song for the last day of the final battle of the First War —the day Fae, Draka, and Medryd stood as one to defeat their human oppressors.

They called themselves the Triad.” Kayson swallowed, and Arenna noticed the pained movement in his throat.

“It speaks of rebellion, loyalty, and loss. It was played that day, at the final stand, at the dragon’s final roar.

” He looked at her. “It’s also a remembrance for the firepower that died with Kenia.

” Kayson gently grabbed her hand, tilting her palm upward. “But it is now reborn in you.”

Arenna didn’t know how to respond to the weight of his words. Instead, she turned back to the male singing, to the violins and drums beating behind him and simply watched. She listened to every last note and every word she couldn’t understand.

When the song finally ended, the heaviness in her chest eased, as if something had settled. “Come on,” Kayson said quietly, pulling her toward a set of stairs that led down to a lower level.

Arenna followed him down the freshly swept stairs into the tavern’s belly, still unable to shake the sense that she had been meant to hear that song, to feel the music in her very core.

Even as they arrived at the lower level and Kayson introduced her to the young barkeep, that sensation lingered. “It’s lovely to meet you,” Arenna said, extending her hand to the female.

“And you.” Naxei offered a polite, close-lipped smile as she bustled around the room, her brown skirt brushing the floor. “The usual?”

Kayson nodded and led Arenna through a narrow, arched door to another room hidden beneath the thumping floor above. In the small storage space were piles of old boxes and empty cargo carts, all neatly stacked.

A long bartop occupied the center of the room, with a solitary barstool positioned in front of it. On the wood were stacks of parchment, ink pots, quills, and a single empty glass.

Naxei strolled in a moment later, pouring amber liquid from a decanter into the lone glass. “Need anything else, holler.” She swiftly left, heading back up the stairs to the roaring life above.

The Fae King pulled out the barstool and motioned for Arenna to sit. After she did, he grabbed a few crates and piled them up beside her. When he sat down atop them, everything clicked. “You come here a lot. And alone.”

“Assumption or question?”

“Statement.”

Kayson chuckled as he laid the book down across the wood. “Does your statement require a response?” She raised a brow. “Yes, I come here often.” She raised another brow. “ And alone.”

“Why?” Arenna pulled the book closer, flipping open the cover.

“The castle can get too noisy. When I need to think, I come here. Where I can sit in the quiet.”

That seemed so completely human. “I always wondered if Jaksen ever felt the pressures of ruling.” He basked in the riches and the women, something she had yet to see the Fae King partake in.

“Why do you compare me to him?” Kayson asked in a tone so hushed it made her skin crawl.

She swallowed, not realizing she had even said that out loud. “I’m not comparing you. I’m simply stating an observation about the difference in kingdoms.”

“Comparing.”

“Fine, comparing ,” she huffed, turning back toward the fading text in front of her.

“Why?” he pressed.

Silence grew too thick. She hadn’t realized she had done it to the point where it felt worthy to bring up. “I need a reminder of who exactly is my enemy.”

Kayson did not respond right away. But when he did, his voice was softer. “And now? Do you still see me as your enemy?”

“No,” Arenna said. “Not anymore.”

* * *

It was nightfall when Arenna hobbled up the stairs of the tavern, her back aching from the hours she spent hunched over the table. She pushed her fingers into her eyes to relieve the burning, though it did little to help.

In the time that passed, they covered a lot of material.

Arenna learned that Pheanixios and the Draka seemed to have been created at the same time.

They were often called the First Creation .

Dragons were discovered fourteen years after the world began, their eggs sprouting up from the ranges later known as the Draka Mountains.

Deep within the range lies a river of wet fire—lava, they called it—and from that lava came the eggs.

At first, only fire dragons were discovered.

But as months passed and storms came, air dragons emerged.

Water dragon eggs were found along the coast where land met ocean, and earth dragons were discovered deep beneath the soil.

They were found, grown, and tamed, eventually bonding with a Drakian that matched their element.

Over a thousand years later, the Medryds emerged from beneath the continent.

Not long after, humans arrived from distant lands.

In time, relationships formed between the Draka and these human settlers—bonds that would eventually give rise to a new people.

From those early lineages, the Fae were born, shaped by both bloodlines and a new kind of magic.

They lived in harmony and peace, until a human man decided it was time for his kind to claim the magic and status held by others.

He was said to be enchanting and beautiful, yet horrible and cruel.

With blue-black hair that reached his knees and skin the color of snow, he wore a crown of spikes and was an intimidating force that even the magical beings of that world could not defeat.

He did not burn by dragon fire; he did not die from weapons of steel and iron. His eyes burned red as blood and bright as a ruby, and his dark clothing resembled Sorrows. The Fall of Dragons stated it seemed shadows were called to his very body, clinging to him as if he were their lifeline.

Ruven Viverus was his name; his original homeland unknown.

Because humans already occupied the southwestern side of Phe-anixios, Ruven began his conquest in the southeast, where the Fae Kingdom ruled.

There, he enslaved anyone with magical abilities he could find.

He established control over the humans and Fae, leading an army thousands strong—accompanied by civilians from distant continents no one had ever heard of.

Together, they seized land and began to build, stealing, rioting, thieving, and killing to cement their presence.