Page 82 of The Prince's Fealty

“Where are we?” Tor asked, still keeping his voice low.

Pamuna explained, “We’ve come out in the lowest level of the castle. The dungeons used to be down here, but now the King uses it for more of his trophies from the war.”

Tor rolled his eyes, looking fed up with everything to do with Nostex. Pel had vague memories of visiting when he was little. Perhaps because he’d been a child, Nostex hadn’t tried to make him look at his collection.

It wasn’t funny anymore, of course, now that they knew what Nostex was up to, but it was still hard to quash that little burst of amusement that Tor was so eager to avoid someone who talked too much.

Now, though, Pel couldn’t help but wonder if there’d been more to it than that, if some part of Tor had recognized the danger of the man.

But maybe Nostex really had created the best disguise ever, and Tor had simply disliked that persona.

Pel supposed they’d all be questioning their memories of him, assuming they made it through today in one piece.

There was a faint rustle as they all stretched and breathed. They’d made it into the castle, and it was only going to get more dangerous from here. Now they had to figure out where everyone was and figure out how to rescue them. They were so much closer, and yet it felt paradoxically like they were further away than ever.

Tor’s face was lined with tension, and Pel wanted to give him a hug, if only that weren’t the most poorly timed impulse ever. Instead, they crept out of the room. There appeared to be no windows in this level of the castle, which Pel supposed made sense since Pamuna said it had once been the dungeon. But there were torches in brackets along the wall, and though they were a bit widely spaced, they were lit.

How often did people come down here? Well, everyone said Nostex liked to look at his collection, so maybe this was for his convenience. Pel didn’t recognize any of it, not even when they began creeping through some of the rooms, which seemed to open into one another.

It was Terila who whispered, “That’shorrible.”

Looking around, they found her gazing at one of the displays. Pel had been concentrating solely on getting through any area thatdidn’thave Tor’s family in it, but he recognized now that this was short-sighted. Even if it didn’t contribute in any other way, this collection told him even more about Nostex. Because while these displays still had shields and weapons and helmets, which he vaguely remembered Tor complaining about, they came attached to the bodies—or body parts—that had been wielding or wearing them.

Pel swallowed. These skeletal remains should all have been given proper burials, not put on garish display like this.

Everyone looked horrified—except for Pamuna, who simply looked resigned.

“Trophies,” she said.

It was clear she’d seen this area before. Tor looked furious, and Pel knew without having to ask that if he’d seen these displays before, he would have done something about it. Pel couldn’t imagine Nostex had shown them to very many people, as it didn’t fit in very well with the persona he’d crafted for the world.

There was remembering the dead, and there was making a mockery of it. These were helmeted skulls that had clearly been severed from the rest of their body. Were these Nostex’s enemies, and he was flaunting their deaths?

Pel didn’t need anyone to tell him this was a terrible stance to take in the United Realms, where they’d been at peace for twenty-five years and were supposed to be treating one another as allies.

They were well past that, of course, given what the man was doing to Tor’s family, but there was still something incredibly chilling about seeing this laid out, knowing it had probably been here for years and years, and they’d never known.

A shiver ran up Pel’s spine.

Also: what did Pamuna and her family know? What were they involved in that they’d been aware of this and Nostex trusted they weren’t going to say anything? (Although, given everything they could see around them, perhaps it was no wonder that they’d carefully kept their mouths closed allthis time.)

Pamuna was guiding them confidently, although she did check now and again before leading them through another room or corridor. Pel had no idea where they were or where they were going, so he wasn’t sure about their progress.

Only then there was the sudden clatter of footsteps behind them. Pamuna froze for an instant, and then she pointed frantically to the side, and they practically dove into what proved to be another small room, flattening themselves against the walls and displays, scarcely breathing.

Pel’s pulse was thundering so loudly in his ears that he wouldn’t be surprised if whoever was coming could hear it.

But it appeared they didn’t, because he could just catch sight of the man and woman walking by without checking left or right, clearly supremely confident in their castle stronghold.

“I can’t believe how strong he is!” the dark-haired man was complaining.

“The King said that he can’t last for much longer,” the woman reminded him, her hair glinting gold in the torchlight before they passed from Pel’s narrow line of sight. “Not with the shields that he’s trying to keep up on the others.”

“He’s floors away from them!” the man exclaimed. “Did you know anyone could do that?”

She scoffed, voice growing more distant, and Pel strained to hear. “Exactly. It’s practically impossible. He won’t be able to do it for long. And it’ll be worth it in the end. Haven’t you always fancied being a prince?”

They laughed as their voices faded away. Pel looked round and found that Tor was already nodding at Beluna, who melted soundlessly around the corner after the people who, if they were talking about torturing Tor’s brother, weren’t going to know what hit them.