Page 77 of A Court Bright and Broken

He gestured toward the right half of the castle.

“No.”

The older guard shook his head then grabbed my arm, yanking me toward the side entrance.

“Humans are disgusting. And useless. I don’t wonder aboutanyof them.”

Taking my other arm, the young guard joined his partner’s progress toward the castle. He kept his eyes on my neckline as the two of them dragged me along.

“Notallof them are disgusting,” he said in a lewd tone. “And apparently theKingdoesn’t find them useless. If it’s good enough for old Pontus, it’s good enough for me. Tell you what, leave her with me for a little while. I’ll take her straight to the dungeon afterward.”

My muscles locked up, forcing the guards to fully carry me, holding me suspended between them.

I wasn’t sure exactly what the young guard intended to do with me once we were alone, but I knew it couldn’t be good.

Thankfully, the older guard wasn’t having it. He stopped and stared at his partner over my head.

“You’re an idiot,” he said. “If sheisone of his girls, how do you think the King would feel about sharing with the likes of you—one of hislowestranked soldiers?”

The other one’s face pulled into a pout. “I just wanted a bit of fun. We’re stuck out here all night while the others are enjoying the music and watching the noble ladies get drunk inside. You’re the idiot.”

“No, I’m the one who’s worked here for two hundred yearswithoutlosing his head,” the old guard said. “Now come on, let’s get her inside. If it turns out she’s one of the King’s girls and we stopped her from escaping,maybeI’ll split the reward with you instead of reporting you.”

To my great relief, we started moving again. The feeling was short-lived though.

Once inside, the guards took me down a corridor to a twisting stairwell leading down. Apparently Pharis’ “rescue” at the ballroom entry was all for naught—I was going to the dungeon after all.

It felt like the stairs would never end, twisting deeper, deeper, deeper, descending far beneath the ground floor.

When we finally reached the bottom, my escorts spoke to another man, the jailer, I presumed.

He unlocked a heavy door, revealing a corridor lined on both sides with cells.

In the scant torchlight, I could see they were constructed of iron bars, the floors of them covered in hay like stable floors. The guards walked me past them, taking me all the way to the end of one of the halls.

Though the cages had no solid walls, the light was so dim I couldn’t tell whether they were occupied or empty or how many people might be in each one.

What if they planned to lock me away with a criminal—or several of them?

“Please don’t leave me down here,” I begged.

Then out of sheer desperation, I added, “Take me to Prince Stellon. I need to talk to him. He knows me.”

“Oh listen to this,” the younger guard said. “‘Takeme,’ she says. ‘I know the prince,’ she says. Maybe she’sroyalty.”

Both guards laughed.

“Don’t worry,your grace.” The older one sneered. “You’ll be dealt with soon enough.”

Tossing me into a cell, he slammed the barred metal door closed and locked it with a key. They walked away, speculating about whether they might be allowed to eat some of the leftover food from the ball, forgetting me almost immediately.

Despondent and in pain, I gripped the bars and eased myself to the floor. At least it appeared I was alone in my cell.

A voice rose out of the darkness beside me.

“Tell me you at least gotoneof them before you were caught.”

“Sorcha?”

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