Page 93 of A Queen’s Betrayal (Legends of Worldbinders #1)

Arenna’s throat burned as she coughed and heaved.

Rolling onto her stomach, she clawed for air, her lungs desperate to refill.

The phantom sting of coiled power still clung to her skin, an echo of what had held her.

Tears blurred her vision, so thick she could hardly make out the ash-covered ground under her hands.

The earth trembled beneath her, a violent quake that knocked her off her knees. Arenna blinked through the haze, turning to the right—to a scene so harrowing it hollowed her stomach.

Faylen knelt with her hands raised, shielding herself beneath a veil of smoky crimson magic.

Kayson stood before her, hurling bolt after bolt of raw, unrelenting earth. Faylen absorbed the assault, bracing against the torrent of fury pouring from him.

Shakily, Arenna rose to her feet. “Kayson,” she called, her voice thin. His once golden eyes were now streaked with black, like veins of Rot bleeding into the sea. “ Kays ,” she said again, taking a step toward Faylen and the ruin gathering around her.

He blinked once.

Twice.

His chest rose with a shuddered breath, and slowly, the webbing in his eyes began to fade.

“I—” he started, but the words faltered.

Kayson looked from Faylen’s crumpled form to his own trembling hands, as though the power that pulsed from them was foreign—unfamiliar.

He did not hesitate to start walking toward Arenna.

The moment of peace was short-lived.

Blood-red smoke slithered toward him, curling around his limbs until soldiers stepped through it, gripping him by the arms and driving him to his knees.

He thrashed, tried to break free—but there was no escaping the crushing force of Faylen’s magic as it descended on him, suppressing him with effortless weight.

Arenna lunged, her fingers reaching for the dagger at her belt. She barely made it two steps before something snared her ankle and yanked her down into the ash.

“You are so na?ve. So ignorant,” Faylen said, rising and stepping closer. “We could have conquered the world—me, you, and Jaksen.”

Rage bubbled within Arenna. She stared into the eyes of the woman she thought she knew from her position on the floor, thought she loved, and saw the same demon that had possessed her former husband.

Faylen gripped Arenna’s chin, yanking it upward. “I hate you, Arenna. You have ruined everything .”

Kayson’s snarls rang out from a few feet away as he thrashed against the holds on his arms, digging his feet into the earth. Desperation clouded his beautiful eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. The sight was almost her undoing.

When Arenna tried to stand, a searing pain tore across her cheek as Faylen’s boot connected with it.

“ Enough ,” Kayson growled, his voice muffled by the ringing in her ears.

Groaning, Arenna stood again.

“You just will not quit, will you?” Faylen lunged, sending her balled fist against the side of Arenna’s head. She fell hard, her consciousness hanging by a thread.

Lying on her back, Arenna looked at Kayson. He yanked against the red soldiers again, snarling and panting like a feral beast. But when his eyes found hers, panic distorted his features.

It was almost like he was saying, stay down, please.

Tasting copper on her tongue, Arenna looked away. Blood dribbled from the corners of her mouth when she tried to speak. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered, her throat aching. She quietly reached for her dagger.

Faylen stomped on Arenna’s fingers, pressing them into the ashen floor with the heel of her boot.

Arenna sank her teeth into her lower lip to stifle a scream.

Faylen angled her head down, a grin spreading from ear to ear.

“I’m going to tell you a little story about a girl born in a destroyed town not far from here.

” She brought her hands together above her head, conjuring a cloud of red smoke.

Tendrils formed the image of a small cradle in the center of a burnt home, with scaled, white wings spreading out from beneath it.

Faylen knelt to look directly into Arenna’s eyes.

“This is how you were born, Arenna Drayvorn.”

Arenna’s stomach hollowed. Drayvorn?

Even the Fae King stilled.

“Legend tells of a little girl whose parents prayed to the Seven for her arrival. When they were blessed with that girl, they loved her instantly.” Faylen smiled.

“On the longest night of autumn, the girl’s mother went into labor.

But during labor, something changed . The mother’s screams grew louder, rougher, raspier, as if the pain had suddenly intensified and transformed into something unbearable.

“And then the walls of their cottage shook. Not only the walls, but the earth. Mountains cracked. Then, the fire started. No one knows where it came from or how it began. It was suddenly just . . . there .”

None of this made sense. Arenna’s mother had never shared this with her. Her head throbbed as she struggled to make sense of it all.

She looked at Kayson, horrified to find his tanned skin pale.

Pacing back and forth, Faylen continued, “You were born in the ever-growing flames of the fire, but you weren’t breathing.

Healers deemed you dead and forced your mother and father out of the house.

Your mother screamed, sobbing, begging for someone to go back and find you.

Eventually, the flames died down, and the house was no more than ash and rubble.

Your belongings were gone, your livelihood—gone.

As your father comforted your mother in the black smoke, they heard a cry.

“Everyone was shocked, unable to comprehend the sound. But then there was another cry, and another, until you wailed. Whatever was left of the room around you was either black from burning or gone completely. Everything except you and your cradle. And then they noticed the wings on the ground, spreading out from under your small body, drawn from white ash. No amount of water or scrubbing could make them go away.”

She repeated Faylen’s words within her mind.

Your mother and father.

Your. Your. Your .

Realization hit like a crashing wave. “You’re not my sister. You never have been.”

Faylen grinned. “No, I am not.” The truth slammed into Arenna’s gut, taking her breath away with it. Faylen turned toward the king. “Would you like to tell her the rest? Or shall I?”

Arenna turned her head toward Kayson, slowly, painfully—and could not stand the look in his eyes. He shook his head, chestnut hair falling into his eyes. “At home, Arenna. I will tell you everything at home .”

Faylen laughed, picking at her nails. “ Home ,” she snorted, “Fine. I will.” She leaned over, placing her face directly in front of Arenna’s. “You were born to Estelle Drayvorn and Rolland Duralles in Yolas.”

Arenna froze, her limbs heavy. She had never heard those names. She was not born in Yolas.

Faylen grinned. “But my favorite part?” she whispered. “Your mother was born to Princess Kenia Drayvon of the Drakian Kingdom days before the Last Stand , and you, Arenna, are the last known descendant of the dragons’ royal lineage.”

The blood in Arenna’s veins turned to ice.Every part of her felt cold, dead— numb . She couldn’t process the information, let alone believe a word rolling off her once-older sister’s tongue.

But when she looked at the Fae King, still held by smoke soldiers, the pain in his eyes and the horror on his face made her choke on a sob.

It was true, then.

“Do not ask me how your mother survived the Last Stand as an infant, or how she found a home in Yolas, but word reached Jaksen’s ancestors. They learned of the child born among fire, of the wings beneath her cradle. They knew you were the Firewielder, born from the ashes of dragons.”

Arenna shook her head. Waves of disbelief crashed over her, drowning out all rational thought. Anguish clawed at her chest, twisting tighter with each breath. “I don’t believe you,” she hissed, struggling to stay upright. “My mother was human, I am human. Kenia lived thousands of years ago.”

Faylen leaned into her ear. “You are Drakian, Arenna. Time means nothing to an immortal.”

Tears sprang to Arenna’s eyes as raw, aching pain tore through her chest. She replayed her entire life in her mind, searching for signs she had missed, for truths she hadn’t seen. “I don’t believe you,” she repeated, her voice cracking.

Faylen grabbed her hand, inspecting the middle of her palm—just like Kayson had done during the Ascendance celebration. Arenna tore her hand away, sickened by her touch.

“You were marked with the Drakian scales,” Faylen said, chuckling.

She waved her hands above Arenna’s, red smoke flooding over her skin.

Within seconds, scales that matched the darkness of her hands appeared, glistening beneath the rays of the sun.

“The Mark of the Dragon. Something only the royal blood of the Drayvorn line carries, after your great grandmother—Kenia’s mother—bonded the first dragon of Pheanixios. ”

Had this been what Kayson looked for all those months ago?

Arenna stumbled away, tripping over her wobbly legs. “I don’t understand—”

Humor danced in Faylen’s eyes. “Jaksen’s ancestor, King Eervium, sent his assassins to kill your parents and hold you hostage until your magic revealed itself. Unfortunately, your parents and the Valor’s had somehow secured your passage to Vlazias,” she snapped, flicking her head to the king.

Arenna shook her head.

There was so much confusion, so much pain. She pushed herself up to her knees, knowing she could not cower forever.

Faylen gripped Arenna’s braid, yanking her head back and forcing her chin to the sky. Arenna could do nothing but breathe heavily as a blade pressed against her throat, sharp enough to draw a bead of blood.