Page 74 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

The Draka Kingdom was best described as elegant and clean with flowing structures that blended seamlessly into their environment.

Their towers rose like massive trees of polished marble with spires reaching toward the skies.

Windows were arched and narrow, framed with crystalline glass and intricate iron carvings.

Wooden bridges and flowing streams were plentiful with massive waterfalls nestled safely within the Draka Mountains.

The land itself glistened with magic and earthly power.

Their dragons, resembling the elements, stood guard over the perimeter and the skies.

As a whole, the Drakians were slender and nimble, allowing them stealth and quick movement through nature. They bore all shades of skin tone, hair color, and eye color. Their armor was skin-tight and decorated in greens and golds, though their weapons were mighty and thick.

Arenna felt warmth in her blood the deeper she dove into their history and culture, often dreaming of what it would be like to live among them.

Itta seemed to share that love and adoration.

The alchemist, draped in purple robes, stood across the training pit, her eyes scanning the pages of an ancient Drakian text on fire magic.

“Bring your hands together in front of your chest,” Itta instructed, adjusting the thin glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Then, angle them toward me and open them skyward.”

Arenna obeyed, and as her hands opened, fire danced wildly in her palms. She watched in awe as the embers sparked and moved, savoring the pride of wielding the weapon within herself.

“Next, say ‘ Vorash .’”

“ Vorash ,” Arenna whispered. Her flames stilled for a moment, then exploded. She gazed upward as her power shot in multiple directions, twisting and dazzling like shooting stars. Bolts of fire streaked across the midnight sky, zigzagging and sending down a rain of burning sparks.

One spark landed in Itta’s gray hair, sizzling out but not burning. “Kenia writes, ‘ something to impress the boys’ ,” the alchemist said. Both Arenna and Itta broke into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

As Arenna continued to read Kenia’s words and absorb them in her training, she felt a deep connection to the deceased princess. Kenia’s texts and journals were often so normal and carefree that it seemed as though she were there, speaking to both Arenna and Itta during their late-night sessions.

Arenna felt as if she knew the princess through her words, and something inside her cherished the bond they shared—not only through their power, but through the written word.

Perhaps, in a different life, they would have been friends.

Itta crossed the dirt circle, her smile as bright as the moon. She placed a hand on Arenna’s sweaty temple, gently rubbing her thumb across her brow. “I haven’t been this happy and fulfilled in years, young girl. Thank you for giving me this.”

Arenna blinked, emotion catching in her throat. “I haven’t done anything,” she replied. “ You are the one giving me everything.”

* * *

Arenna eased into the overfilled tub, the vanilla-scented water sloshing over the black rim and spilling onto the floor. Her limbs trembled beneath the surface, but it didn’t take long for the warmth of the water to soothe her, healing the soreness in her muscles.

Tonight was the night of Kayson’s so-called celebration in her honor. She had no idea what to expect or what her role might be, but she had been told to bathe, dress, and arrive in the foyer in under two hours.

Using the cloth Selphia had left on the rim of the tub, Arenna scrubbed her body until there was no trace of sweat, dirt, or grime. She focused on the newly formed calluses on her hands from the handles of her blades, pushing the rag into each and every crevice.

Unlike her scars, Arenna didn’t mind the bumps on her skin. She was proud of the calluses, proud of the small feats she had accomplished since arriving in Worden. They signified her progress and growth in strength and power, feelings she was experiencing for the first time in her life.

A knock came against the bathing chamber door. “Miss Arenna?” Selphia’s soft voice fluttered through the cracks. “It’s time.”

“Be right out,” Arenna called back.

After leaving the warmth and comfort of the tub, she wrapped a thick towel around her body and exited into her chambers. Water ran down her legs, puddling against the pale blue rug.

Selphia stepped up beside her. “I took the liberty of laying out your gown on your bed. You must wear it,” she kindly demanded. “King’s orders.”

“Have I ever argued with you?” Arenna smiled.

Selphia tapped her nose before heading out of the chamber doors.

Arenna turned toward the vanity, letting her towel fall.

For arguably the first time in her life, she smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

The hollowness of her cheekbones had filled out, her ribs were less visible through her skin, and even her hair seemed softer—more vibrant. She felt healthy. She felt good.

Arenna hardly noticed the scar cutting across her face, hardly felt the dread that usually followed the memories laced with it.

Maybe it was because Kayson, in his own way, drew the story out of her.

He made her relive the torment that followed it but gave her the space to do so.

He reminded her that she was safe, far from the man who had destroyed every piece of her.

As she turned toward the mattress where the gown lay, Arenna’s smile deepened.

She ran a hand along the skirt, her fingers bumping over the beads sewn into it.

Without hesitation, she slipped into the soft fabric, pulling the zipper up the length of her side.

It fit perfectly, as if it were a second layer of skin.

As her hands ran along the gown, Arenna noticed the beads had been stitched in a particular pattern, too intricate and precise for coincidence. She lifted the skirt, eyeing the bottom carefully.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Flames .

Black beads had been stitched in a pattern, wrapping around her skirt as if she were on fire. Arenna brought a hand to her mouth, eyes burning.

For too many years, she had been known as the Serpent Queen, wife of the Serpent King. She was his prized possession, and everything about her wardrobe and jewelry embodied that.

She dressed like a serpent. Married a serpent. Nearly became a serpent. But this gown that Kayson provided was made of flames.

It was made to represent no one but her.

To show off Arenna’ s power.

Kayson had given her more than just a gown. He had reminded her that she belonged to no one but herself, that the fire beating in her veins was to be celebrated, not feared.

She would never again be known as the Serpent Queen or used as a doll to be dressed up and paraded around to enhance someone else’s image.

Arenna was the Firewielder, and nothing less.

Another knock sounded from the door. Quickly, Arenna wiped her eyes. “Come in,” she called out.

The door creaked as Selphia pushed through. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Arenna, wow .” The chambermaid stopped in her tracks. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Arenna whispered. There was a time when she believed she might be beautiful.

Boys in her port never paid her any attention, but somehow, she had captured the attention of the Prince of Brookworth.

He made her feel seen, especially when she was given lovely gowns and jewelry— things that added to her already exquisite features , as Jaksen’s mother would say.

But as the years rolled on and Jaksen transformed into the monster he was now, he would say things that stuck. Like she wasn’t beautiful enough to bear him children, claiming the Seven must be punishing him for her lack of beauty.

Yet tonight, as Arenna gazed at her reflection and saw how she had begun to fill out, how she no longer looked lifeless, she thought maybe she was beautiful after all.

“Let’s finish getting you ready,” Selphia said.

Arenna nodded, blinking away her thoughts and emotions.

The chambermaid hurried her to the vanity in her bathing chamber.

She brushed out the length of Arenna’s black hair, pinning her face-framing layers behind her ears.

Selphia wrapped strands of hair with golden ribbon, allowing it to cascade down her back along with the rest of her thick waves.

Before letting Arenna leave, Selphia painted a red berry stain on her lips and swiped a line of charcoal above her emerald eyes.

Taking one last look in the mirror, Arenna felt many different emotions swelling within her chest, nearly overwhelming her. She felt an immense pride, profound joy, and deep love for this continent, for this kingdom.

And couldn’t help but feel something for its king too.

* * *

King Kayson wasn’t in the foyer as Arenna had expected, but Bramnen and Wylder were, looking more handsome than she remembered. Each wore Worden black armor, blades crisscrossed over their backs. They were a sight to behold, a glimpse of the power this kingdom held.

“Arenna,” Wylder said, dipping his head. The top half of his dark hair was neatly combed back and tied with a leather strap. “What an interesting sight to see you in anything other than training leather.”

“I’ll keep that compliment close to my heart forever,” Arenna mocked. “Thanks.” She grinned.

Bramnen laughed and held out his arm for her to take. “Let’s get going; we don’t want to be late.”

“Care to fill me in on where we’re going?” Arenna asked, folding her arm through Bramnen’s as he led them out of the foyer doors, with Wylder close behind. She had yet to see the ballroom of Castle Worden, but from the empty and quiet halls, she assumed the celebration was taking place elsewhere.

The males exchanged looks, likely debating whether to share the details. After a few heartbeats of silence, Wylder spoke. “The Crystal Palace.”