Page 72 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Arenna needed to heal her soul, her heart, her mind. She needed to stop letting Jaksen’s words control how she thought about herself—or the world. Remembering who she was before her husband, that she was human, was key. Human with thoughts, emotions, dreams, and goals.

Since arriving in Worden, Arenna had been burying Jaksen—pushing him into the deepest, darkest corners of her mind, hoping he would stay there, quietly .

But she knew now that wasn’t healing.

Healing meant facing the hardest parts of her marriage. It meant remembering all she had endured, all Jaksen had done. It meant revisiting the moments she couldn’t stomach, so she could move forward without them.

Trapping those feelings, emotions, and worries did nothing to help her move forward. It only made her angrier, sadder, and less likely to become the elementalist the Seven had created her to be.

But that part of her was no longer welcome.

Arenna shattered on the dirt floor of the pit, her fear, rage, and heartache churning together like a storm above her. She let it all go—cursing Jaksen’s name, cursing all he had done to her, and the suffering she had endured.

And then Arenna rose.

Though she still had a long way to go, she now understood Kayson’s words about courage, Itta’s about embracing, and Marea’s about growing. Everyone had told her, in their own way, that she needed to heal.

She needed to let go of Jaksen.

Of Brookworth.

She needed to stop letting what she survived hold her back, and instead, let it push her forward. Arenna did not survive years of abuse, torment, torture, and agony at Jaksen’s hands just to let him stop her from becoming all she could be.

From being happy.

From being truly free.

Not free in the sense of running away, hiding, or panicking at the slightest touch, noises in the night, or shadow around corners.

That was not freedom. That was suppression. That was fear.

To be truly free, Arenna now understood what she needed to do.

She stalked back to the center of the training pit, wiping away the remaining tears that had puddled on her lashes. She took a deep breath, swallowed, and opened her palms.

“I survived Jaksen. I survived his abuse,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I will never again allow him to corrupt my mind or make me believe anything untrue about myself.”

She took a sharp breath, then exhaled deeply.

“I am the Firewielder,” she whispered. “I am Arenna .” Tears rolled down her cheeks once more, but she didn’t swipe them away this time. “And I am enough .”

She snapped her arms downward, opening her palms. “ Infernus .”

Flame erupted from her, swirling across her hands and coiling up her arms. It skittered to her fingers with desperation, exploding and wrapping around her hands like beacons of burning light.

She felt its unyielding hunger, its need to be set free.

It was as though she had been smothering it, suppressing it, when all she needed to do was let go.

She turned her palms toward that damned, mocking, hay-filled dummy’s smile and laughed like a maniac as she incinerated it entirely.

* * *

Kayson woke to an unbearable pain in his chest—his heart felt as if it might shatter into a thousand pieces. His body trembled, and his hair clung to his sweat-drenched skin. He brought a hand to his chest, feeling the vicious thumping.

Realization hit. Kayson grabbed a tunic hanging from his bedpost and threw it over his head, rushing toward the door. As he swung his chamber doors open, he grabbed the Drakian steel sword resting against the wall.

If harm came to anyone within these walls, if Arenna was touched, even by a whisper of pain—he would bring this entire kingdom crashing down, burying them beneath its broken stones and the full weight of his wrath.

Bramnen stood on the other side of the door, dressed in his nightclothes, hair tousled, eyes wide and unblinking. Kayson had only seen him like this once before—the night Kayson’s brother and sister were killed, when his world collapsed and the war with Brookworth was reignited in blood.

At once, dread knotted deep in Kayson’s gut. “What is it?” he asked, his voice already tight.

“How did you know I’d be here—” Bramnen began.

But Kayson wasn’t listening. His gaze had already gone distant, searching for a shadow that hadn’t yet appeared. “Where is Arenna?” he asked instead, pressing a palm to his chest, where the ache still throbbed like a warning.

“You need to come see this,” Bramnen said softly.

Fear twisted into fury, raw and blinding. Kayson stepped forward, jaw clenched, heart thundering with the weight of a single thought—if she was hurt, if something had happened— “Dammit, Bramnen,” he growled, voice thick with rising panic. “Where is she?”

He held up a hand. “She’s fine. But you need to come see this.”

With his heart in his throat, Kayson nodded and followed his Hand. They moved through the stone corridors in silence, their only light the soft moonlight pooling on the floor.

They reached a set of wide, wooden double doors, and Bramnen pushed them open carefully, bringing a finger to his lips.

“Did you just shush me?” Kayson hissed.

“Hush.” Bramnen waved him through the now-open door.

Rolling his eyes, Kayson walked forward. Maybe his lingering tiredness had kept him from noticing where they were headed, but he hadn’t expected to end up on the balcony above the training pit.

That sluggish, sleepiness vanished instantly. He grabbed the railing, leaning in to get a better look at the woman standing in the center of the pit and flames dancing across the dirt.

Kayson’s chest tightened.

Power swelled in her small hands, growing into a lethal, burning display of flames, and she turned it on an opponent only she could see.

“She’s been here for hours,” Bramnen whispered. “Itta found her out there, screaming and cursing the Seven. By the time she came to get me, Arenna had produced fire with her eyes open. I decided not to speak to her. Didn’t want to break her focus.”

Kayson made a mental note to tell Itta to only get him in moments like this. But to Bramnen, he said, “Good choice. Get back to sleep. I’ll stay with her.”

“Right,” Bramnen said, chuckling. “Goodnight, then.”

After the doors closed behind him, Kayson couldn’t help but grin. He loved Bramnen—a brother forged by a different kind of blood—more than he could describe. The kind of family that wasn’t shared in their veins but on the battlefield.

A scream pulled Kayson’s attention back to the training pit, worry surging through him. His shoulders sagged with relief when he saw her still standing in the center, fire in both hands.

But when the former Serpent Queen fell to her knees, flames extinguished in her quivering palms, that same worrisome feeling returned.

He had triggered this during their training, and again the night they made stew. As much as the guilt weighed on him, Kayson did not regret his decision. Her fear and shame were holding her back from unleashing the full extent of her power.

Arenna’s memories, her torments, and her wild, uncontrolled emotions would be her downfall if left unchecked. Still, despite knowing it was necessary, seeing her kneeling in the dirt, back heaving with sobs, made something inside his chest crack.

It took him no more than four minutes to descend the stairs and stand before her in the pit. If she heard him approach, he couldn’t tell. Her head remained bowed, focused on the dirt below.

“You did it,” Kayson said.

Many seconds passed before she whispered, “I did.”

His stomach churned. “Show me.”

“No.”

“Show me, Arenna.”

When she lifted her head to meet his gaze, the final dam within him broke. Kayson knew there would come a day when Arenna might slip into more than just his life—when he would finally believe she wasn’t at all who he thought she was.

Kayson swallowed hard as he saw the puffiness of her cheeks, the broken blood vessels in her eyes, and the tears leaking from them. It took everything in him not to pull her into him, as if he could somehow absorb the pain she so clearly felt.

“I’m burning up,” she said, her voice far too quiet for his liking.

“What can I do?” Kayson tried to hide the desperation in his voice, though his chest felt like it was bleeding.

“You can leave me alone.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “ Leave me alone ,” she seethed through clenched teeth.

He kneeled but did not touch her. Arenna didn’t need to be coddled. But perhaps there was something he could do to help her, and maybe— just maybe —she would allow him to do so. “You’ve been alone long enough.”

The anger drained from her face in an instant, replaced by a sadness he recognized all too well. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears.

Swallowing, Kayson stood and lifted his hands to the Seven, feeling the power flow through them. Her eyes followed his hands as they circled one another, a purple hue dancing between them. He focused, willing the energy to his command, creating an iridescent ward around the training pit.

Then he brought that power over himself, allowing the cool sensation of the warding to cover his body. “Give me everything you’ve got,” Kayson said with a small smile.

Arenna’s dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“It’s common for your power to suffocate you when you finally learn how to release it. You’ve suppressed it for too long, and now—it needs to be set free.”

He extended his hand.

Hesitantly, she grasped it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured.

“You won’t.” Kayson wasn’t entirely sure that was true. This would be the first time he’d ever placed a ward around himself with the hope that it could repel magic. Fire could burn earth, but maybe not when they shared a bond from it. “Unleash, Arenna.”

Her lip trembled again as she opened and closed her fists, still weighing his words. Kayson understood the turmoil within her, how the power felt like a violent storm, desperate to escape. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“I know,” he replied gently. “I can handle it. I want to handle it.”

They stood in silence as she wrestled with her decision.

“Let me have it.”

That was all Arenna needed to hear. She exploded in the middle of the training pit, releasing every ounce of the power she had suppressed. Flame after flame erupted from her—through her hands, her mouth, even her eyes. Strands of her hair seemed to shimmer with embers.

The first wave of power sent Kayson stumbling backward, but to his relief, the ward held firm. He dug his heels into the dirt, bracing himself for whatever else came his way.

Heat brushed against his ward, making his skin ease into a sweat beneath his clothing. There would come a time when Kayson could teach her how to control her flames, to decide who they scorched and who they spared. But for now, he would be her punching bag.

He would absorb her pain, her suffering, and let her release everything that had kept her imprisoned within herself.

Fire was what Arenna was, and Kayson would willingly burn at her touch.