Page 78 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)
After Arenna descended the stairs with her stomach twisted in knots, she knew the performance lay ahead. A platform awaited her in the center of the ballroom.
“It’s just a way for the folks of this kingdom to celebrate your capabilities and to see one of the saviors of their world in action,” Elder Baldric told her.
She was pulled into a small room filled with gowns and jewels shortly and told she would need to wear a specific ceremonial gown for the performance. Arenna didn’t mind; she rather enjoyed wearing fine clothing again.
The seamstresses of Worden must be handsomely rewarded, for what she wore was unlike anything she had ever seen on another woman, regardless of wealth.
The emerald-green fabric clung to her like a second skin, while a floral underskirt peeked through a slit running up the length of her leg, its ends flowing like gentle waves.
The bodice was adorned with intricate gold jewelry completed the look, featuring a wide belt cinched around her waist. Two identical, dangling chains clipped to her shoulders cascaded gracefully around her biceps.
A matching sheer veil was tied into her hair, falling to the middle of her back, its ends mirroring the gold patterns sewn into the top layer of her skirt.
Arenna stopped just feet away from the platform, her hands shaking, sweat beading on her neck.
This gown did nothing to ease the fear thrumming in her veins.
She could control her power to an extent.
Arenna knew there were layers and depths she had yet to discover and tame.
But with what she had found and practiced, she could put on a blazing fire show if that was what was expected of her.
As Arenna glanced across the platform, her gaze found the king standing beside his council and Elder Baldric.
Though all eyes were on Ada in the center, Kayson’s golden eyes were on her.
Breathing became difficult as his hardened stare trailed down her body and then back up, as if drinking in every inch of her.
Even with the distance between them, her skin felt as though it were on fire. Her chest pounded. Her head spun.
Never before had Jaksen pulled such a raw emotion from her, nor made her feel as enchanting as she did now. With a simple stare, Kayson made her feel like the only woman in the room—or at least the only one he cared to look at.
She didn’t know what to make of the fluttering in her stomach at the thought.
It hadn’t been long since her escape from Jaksen, and her heart still felt far from healed enough to handle the thought of another man—or male.
But something about the way Kayson’s eyes always found hers in a crowded room, the way he ensured she ate, rested, and drank enough, and how he never shied away from her broken pieces made Arenna want to try.
Soft voices pulled her attention back to Ada, who continued her speech. “Though much time has passed, this night does not get any easier. Centuries ago today, our kind stood alongside the Draka, the Medryds, and the mighty dragons in a final battle to reclaim Pheanixios from human hands.”
Eyes drifted toward her, but Arenna remained upright and proud. She was not them. She would never be them. But she would be a living testimony that good can be born from bad.
Ada opened her hand in Arenna’s direction, silently calling her to the center of the ballroom.
With a deep breath, she moved. The gold jewelry draped across her shoulders and back that came together into a thick collar around her throat glistened under the chandelier’s light.
For the first time since donning it, Arenna’s throat constricted beneath its weight.
Voices were muffled as Ada introduced her, and Arenna stood beside the elder in the center of the platform, trying to mask her nerves. She dug into her reservoir of power, seeking that molten red heat within. The calmer she felt, the steadier her flame would be.
As she scanned the room filled with Fae adolescents, memories of the slaughter this place had once endured flooded back. She needed to be careful now more than ever not to bring the palace crashing down.
But Kayson’s ward would keep them safe.
“Though this day is one of grief and suffering—marking the beginning of a war that still rages on—we have hope on the horizon. With the Firewielder, I have no doubt that the other elementalists are out there, and they are coming.” Ada bowed to the cheering crowd, brushing her hand against Arenna’s shoulder before walking down the stairs.
Arenna closed her eyes, visualizing her breath as it filled her lungs before being released.
Once she felt calm, she opened her eyes and summoned the fire.
It started small—two flames dancing across her palms, winding around her fingertips.
With a blink, she forced the flames smaller and smaller until they were no larger than marbles, skittering about her hands as if they had a mind of their own.
Children shrieked and giggled, captivated by the tiny flames.
Encouraged, she dug deeper. The fire spread to coat her wrists and arms, scurrying up her shoulders and weaving into the strands of her curled hair, running along the braid that wrapped around the back of her head, zooming in and out of each strand.
She turned her palms toward the ceiling, sending ray after ray of burning flame toward the chandeliers, replacing the candlelight with hues of blue, red, green, and even purple for fun. She laughed alongside the Fae children, who whispered, giggled, and gawked at the spectacle.
After a few more simple tricks, Arenna pulled and pulled at her magic, unraveling it like a ball of yarn.
She circled her hands around each other, faster and faster, until her fire whipped so quickly that sparks began to fly.
Flames danced around the room, along the walls, and hung from the chandeliers and the curtains.
The fire slithered across the floor between heels and boots, never burning a single thing it touched.
In that moment, she unlocked a new layer of her power.
Her flame grew brighter, hotter, more magnificent than she could have imagined. Strands of gold danced within the embers, waving toward Arenna as she willed them to swirl around the room.
Hello, you .
Hello, master , it seemed to purr back.
Whatever had changed in her reservoir poured into the emptiness that beat within her chest, filling it with warmth until tears welled in her emerald eyes. She didn’t fully understand what this sensation was, but she felt it—joy, hope, and love.
Suddenly, the song from the tavern flooded her thoughts; it consumed her mind. It was all she could hear and all she could see. Arenna let that melody flow through her fingertips, transforming the appearance of her flames for the crowd.
The song became a story, a message she relayed through her fire. The flames took shape, forming soldiers with long, pointed ears—not the short, Fae-like points, but longer and slimmer. Dragons emerged, their scaled bodies soaring around the room, breathing fire from their roaring mouths.
A female figure materialized amid the flames, a mighty dragon at her side.
Her braid whipped in a phantom breeze, a breeze created by Arenna’s fire.
As the song within her mind reached its peak and shattered, so too did the silhouettes of the warriors and beasts.
But Arenna swore— she swore —that the female figure brought her hand across her heart and bowed before vanishing.
She recalled her flames as light re-illuminated the room.
Panting, she struggled to catch her breath from the power that had surged through her, from the song that burned at her core.
Reality set in. The faces of Fae adults and children turned toward her. Most were gaping, while some of the adults shed silent tears that streaked down their cheeks as if they were unaware of their sorrow.
Arenna sought answers from Kayson, glancing at the Elders on either side of him. Had she messed up? Done something she shouldn’t have?
Ada clutched her chest, while Baldric stared at her, wide-eyed.
But Kayson smiled, silver glimmering at the edges of his lower lash line.
Confusion washed over her. She didn’t understand what she had done or why they looked at her with such sorrow and despair.
Movement from the upper level caught her eye, and she saw Itta standing in the shadows of an unoccupied balcony, her hands pressed against her mouth, cheeks wet with tears.
Arenna opened her mouth to speak, to ask what she had done, when the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Her stomach settled as she blew out a breath.
Elder Ada stepped forward, her face still in utter shock as she whispered, “At long last, our Firewielder has come home.”
One by one, every individual in the ballroom kissed three fingers, then laid their hands across their hearts. They bowed at the waist in her direction, their eyes gleaming.
Confused, Arenna turned to Kayson, and their wet eyes locked. Her throat clogged, and her limbs felt numb as the King of Worden dipped, sinking down to his leather-clad knees.