Page 8 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

The castle trembled, shaking loose a rain of mildew-coated dust from the ceiling. Arenna stiffened, guessing the morning bells had tolled, though she hadn’t heard them—only felt their distant reverberation through the stone. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, burying her head.

On what she guessed was the seventh ring, she opened her eyes, blinking to help them adjust to the darkness of the dungeons.

She was thankful to have missed the Oracle’s morning mass, unsure how she could have pulled herself together to stand before the Oracle and her people at the Altar to worship the Seven.

The Seven who had done nothing but abandon her since childhood.

Then again, Arenna supposed she had never felt close to them, never felt their presence.

Their absence was familiar by now. She briefly recalled children from her home port boasting about being Seven-blessed because of their riches or stability, all while Arenna and her family struggled to survive each day.

Regardless, last night, Arenna prayed until her eyes ran dry and dawn broke, the buttery sunlight streaming through the single skylight in the dungeon ceiling.

She stared at the sun, imagining the dying world beyond that glass pane and a life she could make for herself if only she escaped this prison.

It was there, on the cold floor of the dungeon, that Arenna decided her broken soul could still be saved.

She promised herself she would escape the chains that bound her and flee from the husband who tormented her.

She would betray her kingdom, but she would gain her freedom, and that was worth fighting for.

Though trapped in a dungeon, Arenna used that time wisely.

She ignored the cold that seeped into her skin and the hunger gnawing at her belly.

Instead, she focused on plotting her escape.

Each plan she conjured fell apart under scrutiny, each worse than the last. There was always a catch, always a reason it wouldn’t work.

Jaksen was smart. He would see through every attempt and find her before she could get far.

She needed to talk to Isabella, Koltin, and Faylen. She needed help.

Stretching out on her back and ignoring the chill snaking down her spine, Arenna gazed upward at the ceiling, as if she could see the Realms through the thick stone, as if she were looking into the eyes of each of the Seven Sisters seated on their celestial thrones.

She bit back a scowl at the creators who had shown her no mercy, who were not walking beside her through her darkest nights as they supposedly did for so many others.

The Seven Sisters were said to be celestial goddesses born of the stars and moons themselves. Scholars for generations had told their story about how they combined their magic to create the earth and reigned from above, always watching, always present.

Arenna laughed then, hoping they could see her thoughts and the hatred that dwelled there.

When the bells stopped tolling, she forced her mind elsewhere, determined to escape the pull of last night’s trauma threatening to drag her under.

Arenna wondered if anyone would notice her absence.

Her ladies-in-waiting would, as would her guards.

But what about the nobles? The civilians?

Even the oracle herself, would she care enough to check on the queen?

The thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit. It was one thing to suffer, another to realize how many saw her pain and chose to look away. Or perhaps, like her, they feared Jaksen too much to even try.

Noise fluttered into the cell from beyond the bars. Arenna moved quickly, using the tattered fabric of her gown to cover herself as best she could.

Malsen appeared at the iron bars, and Arenna took a steady

breath. They weren’t exactly friends, but at least he was a familiar face. As he stepped into the cell, his eyes widened at the sight of his queen.

Without hesitation, he shed his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Here,” he said quietly.

Arenna mumbled her thanks, nearly moaning at the warmth enveloping her. She hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten in the dungeon or how numb her skin had become.

The walk from the dungeons to her chambers was humiliating. Servants averted their eyes, but she felt their sideways glances, the curiosity lingering in their eyes. She was dirty, tired, hungry— naked , for the Sisters’ sake.

Humiliation wrapped around her like a suffocating shroud. This wasn’t the queen she aspired to be. She wanted to be strong and brave, to fight in wars and lead with honor. Instead, she felt like a coward, shrinking beneath her husband’s fists, always lurking in the shadows to avoid his wrath.

She wasn’t strong. She wasn’t brave.

Each step closer to her chamber reminded her of the disparity between her desires and her reality. She had to change that and reclaim her strength.

Rounding the corner at the end of the hall, Arenna nearly collapsed upon seeing the familiar molding of her chamber door. She didn’t wait for Malsen to clear the room before she burst in and slammed the door shut behind her.

Relief washed over her at the sight of Isabella. Without hesitation, her friend closed the distance and pulled her into a tight embrace. Arenna flinched, every aching bruise and wound flaring back to life at the contact.

Slipping out of her friend’s comfort, Arenna came undone, and her knees collapsed as she sank to the floor, tears clouding her green eyes. She cried and screamed into the plush rug until her throat was raw and her eyes burned.

Isabella held her hand through it all, stroking her back in long, soothing strokes, offering whatever comfort she could. Neither of them spoke for a while; nor did they need to.

“He killed him,” Arenna choked out, the weight of the truth pressing down on her. She felt a selfish relief at the thought of never having to see Lord Bishop again, but that didn’t change the horror of his death.

Isabella didn’t respond, her steady hand stilling on Arenna’s back.

“It’s all my fault. I should have said something. I should have done something.” She buried her head in her hands. “He was foul and arrogant and rude, but he didn’t deserve that .”

“Don’t, Ren,” Isabella urged, bringing her hand to Arenna’s tear-stained cheeks. “It’s not your fault this happened. The only one to blame is that wretched husband of yours.”

“Isa,” Arenna whispered, desperation lacing her words. “How isn’t it my fault?”

Isabella leaned in closer; disgust etched into her features. “He has conditioned you to believe that his decisions are a result of your actions. It is not your fault Lord Bishop couldn’t keep his paws to himself, and it is not your fault he lost his life because of it.”

Arenna longed to believe her friend. Goddess, how she wanted to. But the truth felt painfully different.

Familiar, agonizing self-doubt clawed at her mind. She knew Jaksen was to blame, the villain in her story, the monster parents warned their children about. And yet, he had wormed his way into her thoughts, making her question if she wasn’t to blame as well.

Everything was her fault.

Every punishment, every scolding, every beating—Jaksen always made it clear it stemmed from her. She should have behaved better, kept her mouth shut, and never looked at anyone but him. There was always a reason, always an excuse. The one consistent truth was that the fault was her own.

“Let’s get you in the tub. It’ll help you feel better,” Isabella suggested, running a hand along Arenna’s matted hair.

Arenna gave a faint nod, her eyes unfocused.

“Okay,” she whispered, though her mind still felt scattered and raw.

She leaned into Isabella’s arms as she guided her to the bathing chamber, grateful for the bond they had forged despite Jaksen’s strict rules.

There were few secrets between them, and even now—naked and bruised—Arenna felt little embarrassment.

It hadn’t always been this way; many times, fearing what Isabella would think, she had tried to keep her in the dark. But as their friendship deepened, Arenna realized she needed someone on her side, someone to help her navigate the aftermath of her torment.

Faylen hadn’t always been there for her growing up, and Arenna had long since learned not to rely on her.

Even now, after everything they had endured together—the poverty-stricken port they once lived in, the ransacked building they called home, all the nights that Arenna had to act as the older sister—she still felt she couldn’t.

Slowly, she eased into the scalding water of her chamber bathtub, hardly noticing how it blistered her skin.

Warmth spread from her toes, up her legs, and settled in her core, enveloping her in a cocoon of heat.

Her eyes dared to drift shut after days of poor sleep, but she forced them open.

Isabella poured a blend of oils into the tub, the sweet scents of peppermint and citrus filling the steamy air before exiting.

Time slipped by as Arenna soaked in silence. Her body was numb, her mind hollow. All she could do was replay the night before, the weight of it finally settling.

She still struggled to believe that this —this bruised skin, this silence, this fear , was her reality. That the man who had vowed to protect her, who wore a crown beside her, could treat her like something disposable. Like property.

It didn’t feel real, and yet it was written across every ache in her body. Every breath that hurt to take. Every bruise that was difficult to cover. She was a queen, and still, she had no power to stop him.

When the water began to cool, a chill crept back into her bones. Reluctantly, she climbed out and sank into the feather-filled mattress in her chambers, pulling the red duvet up to her chin. Sleep beckoned.

“We should both get some rest. You especially. I’ll bring a plate of food, and then you need to sleep,” Isabella said, smoothing down the apron of her brown dress.

“Thank you.” Arenna groaned, rubbing her temples. “For everything. Always.”

Isabella smiled as she stepped out, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind her, darkness seeped in, leaving Arenna alone with her thoughts. She pressed her fingers into the corners of her eyes, forcing back tears. She had cried enough for one night, for one lifetime.

Inside her chest, a candle burned bright.

She had always thought it might be her life source, the thing keeping her heart beating.

Day after day, year after year, Jaksen had done his best to snuff it out.

She fought to keep it lit, to hold on to any part of herself that still felt alive.

But as she lay in bed, pulling the duvet tighter around her and feeling her stomach knot, she couldn’t help but feel that there was nothing left, no matter how badly she wished otherwise.

Maybe it was a fool’s errand to try to leave while she still lived, but maybe it wasn’t. Arenna knew she had to decide whether she was meant to die or to fight for her life.

“I was thinking she would never leave,” a soft female voice whispered into the darkness of the chambers.

Arenna recognized the scent of jasmine immediately, as if she were lying in a field of white flowers. “You don’t always have to sneak in here, you know. Isabella wouldn’t mind.”

Faylen crawled into bed beside her. “She doesn’t like me.”

“Don’t be absurd. Isabella likes everyone.”

Faylen huffed. “I was worried sick about you.” She wrapped an arm around Arenna’s shoulders, resting her head on her chest. “Where were you?”

“Out.” Arenna swallowed, hoping she hid her discomfort well. “Did you enjoy the opening ceremony?”

“I suppose, though I left early, so I didn’t get to see the final show.”

Arenna raised an eyebrow, knowing what that meant. “With who?”

Faylen laughed, the sound warm as the sun. “I do not kiss and tell, little sister,” she teased. “But I think I might love him.”

“Right,” Arenna drawled. Faylen was a romantic at heart, chasing boys since she learned to walk. She wasn’t sure her sister even understood the meaning of love. But then again, neither did Arenna these days.

“It’s just you and me, now and forever,” Faylen whispered, reminding Arenna of their childhood promise made when they were torn from their home and sent to the castle. No matter where life led them, they vowed to be together.

“Now and forever,” Arenna echoed.

“Did you take your tonic today?” Faylen asked, pulling open the top drawer of the bedside table. “You’ve been forgetting lately.”

Arenna groaned. “I hate the way it makes me feel.”

Faylen threaded a golden chain through a loop on the lid of the vial and set it around Arenna’s neck. Her sapphire eyes filled with concern. “I know. But they keep the hallucinations at bay. Now you can wear it and never forget.”

Arenna nodded, tilting her head back to take a small sip.

When she arrived at Brookworth after her port was destroyed, Jaksen had the castle alchemist concoct a potion to suppress her hallucinations. They worked as long as she took them daily, but if she missed even a single day, one or two would break through.

Jaksen explained that the Rot might have been the cause, as she had grown up in a port heavily plagued by it. It tainted the food, the well water, the soil— everything . He often said he wouldn’t be surprised if it had tainted her mind, too.

The hallucinations began when she was young, often waking her in a sweat, convinced that the dreams were real.

They were vivid enough for her to remember every detail—some more than others.

The most prominent were of fire, of a home surrounded by shimmering crystal, and of a man with long gray hair and gemstone-like purple eyes.

Then there were the darker ones of her parents being slaughtered by Fae soldiers, of being ripped from her home in the dead of night and taken to a fortress she didn’t recognize. A home filled with darkness and wicked secrets. That particular vision felt so real she often took two vials after it.

Faylen curled against her, bringing their heads together. “Things will get better, even if you don’t believe it,” she murmured, running a finger across Arenna’s brows like their mother used to do.

Before Isabella could return to ease the hunger gnawing at her belly, Arenna drifted into a deep, undisturbed sleep.