Page 89 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

It was a bloodbath.

Arenna stood in the center of black and red, steel and power, blood and bodies.

Kayson and the trio were nearby, though chaos kept them apart.

As they broke through the secondary line, she forced her flames to die out, careful not to harm her own, then drew the sword from her back.

She locked eyes with a snarling Brookworth soldier, their swords meeting with a clash that sent sparks raining to the ground.

Battle had never been something she imagined.

When Jaksen’s army returned, their ranks were always thinned, and the soldiers who did survive came back changed.

Koltin had told her and Isabella about the numbness that gripped them—the hollow look in their eyes.

Most of them came back more ruthless, less human, and driven by an insatiable hunger for Fae blood.

Now, standing in the thick of it—surrounded by sweat-soaked bodies and spraying red—Arenna could understand why. Her sword felt heavy in her hand, the strength from her training not quite enough for the intensity of battle. Her body was exhausted, her mind racing.

A Brookworth soldier seemed to sense it, gripping his weapon with ease, swinging it as if it were an extension of himself, not a deadly tool. He attacked, and steel kissed her cheek, slicing it open. A step to the right, and the blade would have buried itself in her eye socket.

The thought sent a shudder through her as she tightened her grip. She studied his movements, focusing on his feet, trying to recall everything Koltin and Bramnen had taught her about finding an opponent’s weakness.

His thick blade slashed toward her again, and she met him blow for blow. Her hands trembled against the voidstone hilt, the impact of each strike loosening her grip.

The soldier swiped his blade at her feet.

Arenna jumped over it, driving her sword into the back of his neck. His body hit the ground, convulsing as he took his final breaths.

Ripping her weapon free, Arenna turned, blocking another attack.

They grunted as they swung their weapons, blocking and striking.

This man was smaller, thinner, easier to keep up with than her previous opponent, but she still fought with every ounce of energy.

Her arms burned, and her lungs heaved for air in the stench of bodies and smoke.

She dropped to her knees as his blade swung overhead, meant to take her head off.

Using the force of her body, she drove her sword upward into his chest, sending him sprawling.

She wasted no time getting to her feet, bringing the blade down into his face, silencing him.

She panted, looking down at his gaping mouth.

Nausea twisted in her belly.

Arenna scanned the battlefield for her group. Kayson was ten men away, fighting two soldiers at once. He blocked every attack, spinning and thrusting his sword through one. As the man fell, Kayson slid his blade across the neck of another.

His eyes met hers in the chaos, a wild thrill in them. Kayson smiled, then winked.

Arenna laughed, but it was cut short by a roar to her right. She turned as a Brookworth soldier leaped toward her, sword aimed at her. “Infernus,” she whispered.

Fire wrapped around the steel, melting it down to the hilt before it could touch her. The soldier’s exposed flesh burned, and she held her power until his weapon was nothing more than a handle.

Blood bubbled from his mouth as he fell face-first into the dirt.

Marea stood behind him, arms still raised.

“Cool trick,” Arenna said, smiling. Her heart tumbled when the Lady Commander smiled back.

Rain fell from darkened clouds, splattering against the grassy floor and turning the remaining dirt into slick mud.

Arenna moved through the crowd, ducking and dodging, killing and fighting—slipping on the wet earth.

She burned when needed—her power still a force despite the rain—and stabbed when required.

Her hands shook and throbbed from both fire and the vibrations of steel against steel.

The black on her hands inched down her fingers as she funneled more power.

Drums and horns blared again from the hill, another signal that a new Brookworth onslaught was approaching.

Each bang sent waves of fear through Arenna, chilling her spine and peppering her arms with gooseflesh.

She nearly sobbed, overwhelmed by the thought of another wave of soldiers and creatures.

Hundreds of druque descended the hill, snarling and thrashing at nothing but air. Drool flew from their fangs, talons tearing chunks of mud as they skittered toward Emerlon.

Shouts rang out. Males began shifting into beasts—wolves, leopards, wingless griffins, bloodhounds—charging toward what would be a brutal battle of bone and blood.

How could they survive this? How had the humans not tired, faltered, or run out of manpower? The questions rattled in Arenna’s mind, blending with the agonized wails and desperate pleas for help, clouding her senses.

It was all she could hear, all she could see—the despair, the anguish, the brutal carnage. Arenna sucked in a breath as the druque broke through the line of Worden soldiers, gray beasts tearing through anything in their path, regardless of the crest on their armor.

“Force them back!” she yelled to Kayson, who stood a few feet away, hunched over and breathing rapidly. His brows furrowed in confusion, but after a glance at the druque and his army, he understood.

The Fae King dug his boots into the earth, bracing himself.

He brought both hands to his side, eyes fixed on the horizon where the druque were overpowering the Fae army, despite the magic in their veins.

Arenna closed her eyes and let the sounds of battle fade.

She focused on her breathing, on the rumbling earth as Kayson spoke to it.

When her body burned hot enough to spark from her fingertips, she opened her eyes.

Kayson thrust his hands upward, then downward, and the ground beneath his army rose.

With a powerful motion, he threw his hands back, causing the earth to retreat, sending Fae soldiers flying behind the Earthbender and the Firewielder.

With no living Fae left in front of her, only the snarling gray beasts, Arenna raised her hands, flames pouring from her palms. She created a wall of burning embers in front of Kayson’s army, shooting it high into the sky until it covered the valley hill.

As the power surged, her breath weakened. Her arms strained, her lungs emptied, but Arenna didn’t stop until even the clouds were obscured.

She glanced at Kayson, who stared in awe.

When he nodded slowly, she let the wall fall.

Her power crashed forward in a wave of molten fire, burying every druque in its path. She watched in shock as their distorted bodies melted beneath the heat, their ear-splitting screams filling the air. And when every last beast had perished, she recalled the fire as though it had never been there.

Arenna looked to her hands, slightly horrified at the power within them.

But the display of power didn’t stop Brookworth. Soldiers in red and silver surged down the valley, hurtling toward the new frontlines of Worden’s army.

Arenna laughed as she drew her sword.

Bodies flew, blood sprayed, steel clashed.

Power crackled in the air, each Fae wielding a different ability. Arenna couldn’t fathom how the humans kept up—what Jaksen must have done to them to balance the scales in this war.

Her body was tired, her mind battling reality.

Every swing of her sword came with a grunt, every burst of flame from her palms sent a wave of sickness through her.

Each blow she took hurt far more than it had at the start of the fight.

Though she was stronger than before, she was still no match for the Brookworth soldiers, who had spent their lives training for moments like this.

A force struck the middle of Arenna’s spine, sending her sprawling to the valley floor. Her head cracked against the earth, her vision exploding into a thousand stars.

She was yanked up by her collar, a Brookworth warrior standing over her. He slammed her aching body back to the ground, further distorting her world.

Blood streamed from her nose, running down her cheeks until it pooled at her neck.

Frantically, Arenna searched for a weapon, her hands scrambling across her belt for the knives strapped there. But her head roared, her vision blurred. Everything was hurting, multiple places bleeding.

“I never imagined seeing the Queen of Brookworth on her back beneath me,” the man sneered.

He drew his sword in one fluid motion. “We were ordered to bring you back alive, but Jaksen deemed us worthy to decide the condition.” He pressed his muddy boot against her neck, crushing her airway.

Panic surged through her as she clawed at his leg, but he only pressed harder.

“Do not fight me, traitor queen; it will only end worse for you.”

Arenna tried to speak, to summon her flame, but all that escaped her throat were broken whimpers.

He pressed harder, angling her face with the tip of his sword. “Such beauty you possess. It is a shame you will spend the rest of your days hidden below the earth.”

Fire roared beneath Arenna’s skin, heating her veins to dangerous levels. She slid her hand down her leg, praying her dagger wasn’t lost. With her windpipe being crushed, it made every movement achy and slow, but she did not quit.

She would not die because of this man.

Relief poured through her when her fingers wrapped around the handle, and Arenna ripped the hidden dagger free from her boot.

She thrust it upward, not caring where it struck, so long as it did.

The Brookworth soldier’s eyes bulged, a blood-curdling scream tearing from his throat. He stumbled back, clutching his thigh.

Arenna scrambled to her knees, choking and coughing as smoky air refilled her lungs. The man’s leg armor ended at mid-thigh, and her dagger had found that small window of flesh. Through his cream-colored pants, a pool of red began to spread, growing larger by the second.

Arenna realized she had hit an artery. He would bleed out in moments.

Kayson was at her side within a minute, his hands moving to her throat, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin, already likely bruising.

His light eyes darkened as he glanced at the sputtering Brookworth soldier at their feet.

With a sneer of disgust, he summoned the earth to engulf the man, burying him so far below the ground that his screams were muffled almost instantly.

Arenna blinked at the blackened earth, now settled as if it had never been disturbed. She didn’t want to imagine where the man had gone when Kayson closed the ground over him, or the suffering he might now endure.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Arenna could only nod, unable to speak just yet from the pain in her throat.

Battle slowed for a moment, and Arenna took the opportunity to steady herself, her breathing.

After helping her to her feet, Kayson looked toward the sound of the distant beat of battle drums echoing through the valley.

Her heart sank at the sight of a familiar gray line once again cresting the hill, knowing all too well the sounds coming from those vicious jaws. But the platinum-haired head she dreaded had not yet appeared.

A constant ache weighed on her chest, unease twisting her gut, as if her soul warned her Jaksen was among this army. His evil was so palpable that she felt it everywhere.

A comforting warmth surrounded her, and Arenna didn’t need to look to know Kayson was the cause. “What are we going to do?” she asked in a hushed voice.

Blood ran down his temple, leaving a thick stain of red.

The king intertwined their fingers, squeezing their hands before letting go.

“I don’t know.” He took a few slow steps forward, placing them at the front of his army.

He looked magnificent and mighty standing there, his black cape stained with red like a wave of the ocean behind him.

“My king,” a powerful female stepped beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You should retreat. Get back to the castle.” Her gaze shifted to Arenna. “Both of you should. We need your power.”

“I bleed the same color as my kind,” Kayson replied calmly, “and I will not stand by while they kill themselves in my name. We fight as one and die as one.”

Arenna’s heart clenched.

He wasn’t the enemy he had been made out to be, and she believed that wholeheartedly now.

A soldier took the vacant spot at Kayson’s left, blood dripping from the blade he held. “What are your orders?”

“We wait,” Kayson answered. The soldier nodded without hesitation and fell back into line behind his king. “Let them come to us.”

Arenna stepped forward to stand at his right. He summoned the earth to his hands, swirls of emerald green floating around his wrists and arms, waiting for his command.

Infernus .

Fire erupted from her pores, coating her in its warmth. She let it move freely, sparking at the ends of her hair and glowing brightly in her eyes.

Kayson looked at her, his smile pained but genuine.

“As long as we stand together, they cannot break us,” she whispered.

Kayson brought a hand behind her neck, pulling her to him. “I would kill anyone who tried.”

Brookworth’s marching army halted, parting like a ship cutting through waves. A cloaked figure atop a black horse rode to the crest of the hill and stopped. Their crimson cloak billowed behind them as they surveyed the battlefield.

A shiver raced down Arenna’s spine, though she couldn’t see the rider’s face. The figure began to descend the hill, leaving the Brookworth soldiers behind.

Arenna watched their every movement, a lone figure among the carnage. Her stomach tripped over itself, fearful of who was beneath the hood.

Though in her heart, she already knew.

“ Fall back! ” a feminine voice commanded—most likely Marea’s. Worden soldiers obeyed, retreating toward the gates of Emerlon. But Arenna remained at Kayson’s side, unable to tear her gaze away from the rider beneath the hood.

Their skin was pale, almost as white as death.

Arenna’s blood froze over in fear.

A gust of wind whipped through the valley, funneling between the towering mountains. The rider’s hood was blown back, revealing a cascade of golden hair.

The world seemed to stop.

Arenna stopped breathing.

She pushed past Kayson, desperate for a better view, her legs trembling, heart clenching at the sight of her older sister.