Page 71 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Sleep did not come easily to Arenna in the following nights.

Anytime her eyes dared to close, Jaksen appeared.

The dark suffocated her. Her sheets were too hot, too cold.

Everything she touched triggered a memory of Brookworth, a memory of her former husband.

He was so intertwined with her very being that she couldn’t move without thinking of him—couldn’t eat, bathe, or sleep.

Arenna had tried her best to think little of Jaksen while on the Hadley and in the short weeks since arriving in Worden.

There were moments when he would filter back in, but she had nearly mastered keeping him out and suppressing her haunting feelings.

Even if it wasn’t healthy, she had done it.

She had even started to feel a glimpse of hope on the horizon, her cold heart beginning to thaw.

But when she shared a moment alone with the king, he reopened the wound she had tried to sew shut, as if it were rotting and infected, in need of proper healing.

Her conversation with Kayson reminded Arenna that her soul was broken.

Her heart was torn, obliterated, shattered beyond repair.

The only way she could combat the darkness in her mind was with her flame.

She didn’t know what else to do but read from Kenia’s journal and was relieved to finally find an entry that benefited her magic.

Master Keris is not a very good teacher, or my magic is too great for this world. A world bathed in fire might not be a bad thing though. I learned the easiest way to summon was to use a single word. Infernus. All I had to do was speak it, and fire came to me .

Immediately, Arenna donned her leathers, grabbed her sword and dagger, and made her way to the training pit in the dead of night. Through the darkened, green hallways of Castle Worden, her confidence did not falter.

But when her boots stopped at the edge of the training pit circle, that confidence was replaced by a growing seed of doubt that festered into both fear and disappointment.

She stared at the pit for what felt like hours, unable to move an inch despite the screaming and cursing in her mind. In that moment, Jaksen’s deep, distorted voice overshadowed her own, and all she could hear was him.

You are a woman, Arenna. Your body was not made for war or for handling weapons. Go back to your rooms, and do not bother me with this nonsense again .

Arenna closed her eyes, trying to trap the tears that threatened to spill. Her lower lip wobbled as Jaksen’s voice beat inside her skull, threading itself into each and every thought.

You were made to be a wife and a mother. Nothing more .

“ Enough ,” Arenna spat. She did not mean to say it aloud, but the voices quieted all the same.

Taking a large, shaky breath, Arenna stepped into the training pit.

The first thing she did was remove Kenia’s journal from her pack, carefully opening it to the end, where she had read about Infernus. She re-read the instructions over and over again, not stopping until she had memorized it word for word and could recite it without looking at the text.

I learned the easiest way to summon was to use a single word. Infernus. All I had to do was speak it, and fire came to me. Defernus sends it straight back to the pits it came from .

“Infernus and Defernus,” Arenna whispered, taking another painful breath. She raised her hands to almost eye level, studying the different lines and scars scattered across her palms. Fire crawled beneath her skin, shining brighter the longer she watched.

Arenna let her head fall backward, gazing up at the millions of stars peppered across the darkened sky. She focused on the little noises around her—the comforting, quiet hum of Castle Worden that had quickly become something she relied on for peace.

“I can do this,” she whispered, bringing her head back to its normal position and taking one final, long breath.

Arenna turned her hands outward, pointing them in the direction of a hay-filled dummy that soldiers used for practicing swordplay and archery.

Emotion clogged in her throat, but Arenna managed to choke out, “Infernus.” She stood in the silence, keeping her attention locked on the dummy, waiting for the fire to burn out.

Seconds ticked by, but no fire came.

The easiest way to summon was to use a single word. Infernus. All I had to do was speak it, and fire came to me .

Arenna shook out her hands and arms, swallowing. “Just need to focus more,” she whispered. She locked her gaze onto the dummy once more, envisioning it as an enemy—someone who wanted her dead. “Infernus,” she said, louder this time.

Rage quickly smoldered in her veins as the fire still did not come.

“Infernus,” she seethed.

No fire, no flame.

Someone had used a piece of charcoal to sketch a stupid , mocking face onto the dummy. Its smile felt like a taunt, fueling the anger in her heart.

Taking another breath, Arenna tried again.

* * *

The moon was no longer hanging in the sky, and dawn was quickly approaching.

Hours quickly passed since Arenna rolled out of bed and into the pit.

Sweat dripped from her forehead into her eyes, burning with every blink.

Her heart pounded in her chest, slamming so violently against her ribcage she thought it might burst.

Arenna screamed Infernus in her mind probably a thousand times. But unless she stopped, calmed, and imagined her reservoir, fire didn’t come. Her body, however, was scorching, like sand beneath the hot sun.

She cursed, cried, and screamed enough her throat felt raw and cracked.

But the longer she stood in the dirt, pretending opponents were charging at her, looking at that stupid dummy, the more fatigued and angry she became.

Arenna grunted in frustration and stormed back to the book. She re-read Kenia’s passage on Infernus two more times before flipping the pages back and forth, making sure she wasn’t missing anything.

“That’s it. That’s all there is,” she seethed.

Arenna looked at her hands. “Infernus,” she shouted, screaming at her palms.

Nothing.

“ Infernus! ” she shouted again.

Still, not even an ember.

Arenna screamed in raw, aching frustration and kicked Kenia’s book as hard as she could with the tip of her boots.

The book flew across the pit, slamming into the outside wall of the armory before hitting the floor with a loud thud, sending loose pages scattering.

Reality snapped back into place, snuffing out the anger in her chest. That book was thousands of years old, one of the last known writings of Princess Kenia, the Drakian Princess.

And she had just kicked it.

A choked sob eased out of Arenna’s throat, and she ran to the book.

Sweeping it into her arms, the tears that stung her eyes finally spilled over. She brought the book to her chest, cradling it like a small babe. “I’m sorry,” she said between breathless sobs. “ I’m sorry .”

Tears blurred her vision as she attempted to fix the pages that had fallen out. “I’m sorry,” she said again, body shaking with sadness.

Arenna clutched the book tightly to her chest and doubled over, bringing her forehead to the cool dirt of the training pit when the pages did not fit back into place.

“Why,” she whispered. Arenna looked up to the Realms, to the Seven resting within them. “ Why? ”

Anger steadily pumped in her veins once more, and Arenna stood. “Why?” she asked again, harsher and louder this time as she continued looking upwards. Her eyes burned a hole in the sky, as though she were speaking directly to the Seven Sisters.

“ WHY! ” Arenna screamed again. She grabbed a sword from a rack in the armory and struck it against a wooden post.

Again and again she hit, and again and again she screamed that damned question.

With one final smack, the sword snapped in half, sending a painful vibration all the way up her arms. She dropped the handle, shouting a range of colorful curses.

Arenna fell to the ground, letting her knees sink into the dirt. Her head fell forward as tears leaked from her eyes. “Why did you give me this power and not show me how to use it?” she whispered to the Seven.

Sobs wracked her body. Arenna panted and gasped, choking for air her lungs couldn’t seem to take in. A familiar, agonizing shred of worthlessness clawed at her mind, begging to fill her with darkness.

Women have no place on the battlefield .

You’re my wife. You have no business sitting in on my meetings. Your judgment is easily flawed, persuaded by emotions .

Why would you ever think I would allow you to voice your opinion in front of the nobles? Enough, Arenna. Go find something to read. Play the damned piano for all I care .

Jaksen’s words pounded through her skull.

She sobbed harder.

Do you have any use other than a pretty face? If you cannot provide me with an heir, I will find someone who can .

It was like he was there beside her, his breath hot on her neck, his words soft and wicked in her ear. Willing her eyes shut, Arenna fisted the dirt beside her and screamed. The sound that ripped from her throat was devastating, raw, and aching with pain.

Jaksen made her feel so small, so worthless.

Her hands trembled. Arenna hated that even with an ocean between them, Jaksen still dominated her mind. And her heart. She had thought that things changed since arriving in Worden.

She thought she was getting stronger, wiser, and more durable. She thought things were getting better—and above all, that she could be happy again and have friendships and relationships. The perfect image of what her life could be was within reach—until the other night with the king.

You have to keep moving forward, Arenna. Otherwise, you will not grow in your power .

Arenna didn’t realize until this moment that Kayson hadn’t meant for her to suppress her feelings, her fears, or her worries.

He hadn’t meant for her to become stronger, wiser, or more durable.

He hadn’t meant for her to master her power.

Kayson had meant she needed to heal .