Page 80 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

He brought a hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing gently back and forth. “I would dance with you always. Anywhere. Anytime.” He left her with that, disappearing through the doors and into the swell of Fae.

Arenna’s skin noticed his absence, the spot where he’d held her now cold and tingling. She rubbed her palm, committing the feel of him to memory.

Something like this couldn’t happen again .

Not just because they weren’t right for each other—or because their lives were heading down different paths—but because Arenna wasn’t sure her heart could take it. It was already obliterated, destroyed, broken.

Being around Kayson more, sharing small but meaningful moments, would only deepen the feelings blooming inside her. And that would only hurt them both in the end.

She sighed and left the balcony, then returned to the table at the front of the hall, where only Baldric remained. “Ah, Firewielder. I hope you’re enjoying the celebration. Your performance was absolutely exquisite.”

Arenna nodded, taking a seat beside the Elder. “I am, thank you,” she said with a smile. Her heart felt heavy, her chest aching with a longing she did not recognize.

He leaned on the table. “I know it’s not easy to perform, especially given your background. But I thank you for doing it.”

“Of course,” Arenna said. “Though I still don’t fully understand the reason behind it all.”

“There’s no direct reason—more a tradition to celebrate the elementalist of our time.” Baldric smiled, his gaze shifting to the crowd of Fae. “I suppose it’s also a way to witness your powers, the gifts you’ve been given. People are always curious.”

Arenna nodded, her smile faint. “Did Kayson have a celebration as well?”

Baldric barked a laugh. “Oh, yes. He nearly brought down the palace on more than one occasion.” He sipped his wine, grinning into the glass. “He was miserable every time, scowling at his parents for making him do it. But it’s tradition.”

“Is it done every year?”

Baldric’s smile faltered, turning somber.

“We used to, back when King Kayson’s parents were alive.

But seeing performances for only one elementalist began to diminish people’s hope.

It made them sad, disappointed. And with King Kayson being his stubborn, grumpy thing, he grew less fond of the events.

” He looked at her directly. “But now that you’re here, people need this again. They need you.”

Turning to her glass, Arenna took a steadying breath. She understood her role, felt honored by it, yet still struggled to uphold it. “Was Kayson always powerful?” she asked, steering the conversation back to the king.

“Horribly,” Baldric admitted with a laugh.

“He was always gifted. Small magics revealed themselves in his childhood. But the day after he turned ten, the world shook when he realized what he was and what he could do. It’s only grown stronger since.

” Baldric’s gaze shifted across the room to the king.

“His ancestor might have severed the continents, but I believe our king could do so much more.”

Arenna tightened her grip on her glass, blinking through the weight of that revelation. She had always suspected Kayson was more capable than he let on but avoided dwelling on just how powerful he might truly be.

“Did he already know about the prophecy when his powers revealed themselves?” Arenna asked, reaching for a small plate and placing a warm, buttered biscuit on it.

“His father—Seven bless his soul—didn’t think he was old enough to understand it.”

“Or the weight of his responsibility,” she added.

Baldric hummed his agreement. “King Malgath told him eventually, when he was much older. Though age and maturity didn’t make the blow any less hard. After his parents passed, Ada and I, along with Azar and Sarya, took over guiding him.”

Arenna rubbed her arm, the weight of all the loss pressing against her. This kingdom had suffered so much, grieved through heartache that seemed unending. “I’m sorry for all the loss you’ve seen.” she whispered.

His eyes flickered with a brief flare of rage, likely from memories of the palace’s destruction and the fallen Fae.

“When you live as long as I have, you get used to it.” Baldric smiled faintly at his plate.

“I’ve long outlived my family, my children.

My friends,” he said, his gaze drifting to the portraits of the two Elders hanging on the second story.

“I imagine that was a hard thing to get used to.”

“It was,” Elder Baldric agreed.

Arenna couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt sinking into her chest. There was such beauty in this kingdom, in the Fae. She had been so blind to it before. “I feel I’ve been ignorant all my life. Growing up, we were taught stories of the Red Reaper—how vicious, cruel, and horrible he was.”

Baldric paused, his hand hovering over his wine. “And now?”

She swallowed hard. “Everything I thought I knew was a lie.” Arenna rubbed her hands together in her lap. “I’ve learned that the Fae didn’t start this long war—then or now. They don’t want humans to bow to their power; they just want life to return to what it was in the beginning.”

Baldric’s face softened, wrinkles deepening at the corners of his eyes.

Arenna leaned in, elbows resting on the table as she turned to face him directly. “My people have no idea about the beauty in these lands, or the kindness of the Fae. They believe what I used to believe, and I don’t know how to prove otherwise to them.”

“You feel that is your responsibility?”

“I don’t see how it isn’t. If we succeed in finding Wind and Water and Pheanixios is reborn, our species will have to come together.” She slumped back in her chair, frustration lining her face. “But how? Who’s to say someone else won’t rise up and demand separation? Power?”

Baldric placed a hand on her shoulder. “Did you hate our kind when you first arrived in Vlazias?”

Reluctantly, Arenna nodded. It was a hard thing to admit, especially now, knowing the Fae had done nothing to earn such hatred.

“And your heart has since changed, yes?”

“It has,” Arenna agreed.

“Why?”

She thought for a moment. “Because I was shown the truth.”

Baldric’s grin spread wide. “Exactly. You were shown the truth, rather than taught. You saw our lands, our kind, and felt the warmth of our king’s heart. I believe your people will eventually do the same, once they see who the real enemy is.”

“You think that will be enough?” she asked in a whisper.

Baldric’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “There is much fear in your heart, Arenna Firewielder. I know you’ve faced many trials, but I fear you have not seen the end of your troubles.”

“Comforting,” Arenna said with a smile. But there was truth in the Elder’s words. There was far more at stake than she often realized.

“The truth is not always easy to hear,” Baldric replied. With their conversation winding down, the Elder turned his attention back to his meal.

Arenna asked, “Is there a bathing chamber I could use?”

“This way,” Baldric said, motioning toward the entry doors. He led her through the mass of Fae dancers, weaving in and out of the crowd. When they reached the doors, he pointed down the hall. “Fourth door on the left.”

Arenna nodded in thanks as she left the ballroom.

The air outside was fresher, the space far less stifling.

She tugged at the decorative collar around her throat, needing room to breathe deeply.

She counted the doors, suddenly unsure of how many Baldric had said.

But when she turned to ask, the male was already gone.

Arenna looked at the third crystalized door in front of her and shrugged. She didn’t mind trying them all.

As she pushed open the door, Arenna quickly realized it wasn’t the right room at all. Just as she began to close it, something soft caught her eye.

Looking both ways to make sure no one else was around, Arenna stepped inside the dark chamber.

She ran her fingers along the duvet on the bed, wondering why it felt so familiar.

She hadn’t been here before, but for some reason, the layout of the room was known to her.

Even the furniture stirred a sense of recognition, though it was unlike anything in the castle.

Taking a step backward to the left of the bed, Arenna bumped into a vanity near a set of windows.

She turned, glancing directly into her reflection in a small mirror.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, the mirror drew her in.

She stared deeply into it, as though the glass could reveal why this room felt so familiar and why she sensed a tug deep within her chest.

Then Arenna looked back at the bed, to the duvet, and then again at the mirror.

And all the blood in her veins turned to ice.

The realization of seeing this chamber inside her mind hit her like a physical blow. She stumbled backward, crashing against the wall.

Clutching her chest, Arenna felt the wild rhythm of her thrashing heart. Her breathing quickened as she scanned the bed, vividly recalling the female lying across it and the man standing beside her, concealed in dark clothing.

As if conjured by the chamber, the man flashed before her eyes. He was there, mere inches away, his red eyes blazing in the darkness. His hand reached for her neck, its touch seeming so real she could almost feel the constricting of her throat.

Arenna screamed, sliding down the wall in terror. Her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. But when she blinked, the man was gone.

Without hesitation, she gathered the skirt of her gown and fled. Her throat was tight with fear, making it difficult to swallow. As she burst into the hallway and slammed the door behind her, she gasped for air.