Page 72 of The Fury She Holds
“What?” Lighton’s voice reached a new octave on the one word.
“What. Are. The men. Doing. In. The dovecote?” he enunciated each word in his disguised voice.
“You—They—Don’t you know?” His eyes darted between Tal and Faron.
Tal didn’t know what to say, and Faron’s dark-shrouded figure only offered silence.
“It’s the Communal,” he said, confusion lining his features. When Tal and Faron shared a puzzled look, Lighton continued,“The—the servants. They join us and they—They say they want to, I swear! We drank the Unfruitful Wine and everything.” The man made no sense. Tal didn’t know what to do.
Faron decided for her. He stalked forward and slammed the pommel of his sword into Lighton’s head, knocking him out. Tal slid him to the ground. “What was he going on about?”
“I think I have an idea.” He turned and made his way up the tunnel. Tal ran to keep up.
Halfway up the slope, whimpering and guttural moaning rebounded along the stone passage. Tal could only imagine the amount of torture someone had to go through to emit such sounds. Before Faron could stop her, she sprinted up the slope, bursting through the door without a second thought. She blinked against the sudden blazing light of the dovecote, searching the room for the source of the pained cries—and froze.
Clothes scattered around the floor and draped on the furniture as if they’d been torn off in haste. But what had Talwyn’s jaw dropping of its own volition was the sight of both men and women stark naked and tearing into each other as if they’d been starved of bodily pleasures. Her eyes flickered from one group to the next in utter confusion, wondering what the hells she had barged in on. The moaning and wailing only increased the longer she watched. And there, in the center of four other men and women, Waylon stood propped against a cushioned seat, jostled by the assault. Pure ecstasy lit his face.
“Well, this makes much more sense.”
Tal jumped. Faron stood at her shoulder, his own mask covering his face, and his eyes reflecting a humorous gleam. He pulled her back into the shadows and closed the door, the animalistic cries still penetrating the thick wood.
“WHAT THE F—”
Faron burst out laughing before Tal could finish her sentence, causing her to jump.
“DID YOU KNOW—”
Faron doubled over, hysterical.
“This is some sick joke. On display. Ingroups!You nobles are positively disgusting.” She smacked him.
“Don’t look at me! I didn’t get an invitation.”
“You knew what was behind that door!”
He backed up against the stone wall and placed his hands on his knees for support. “I swear to you I had no idea. I recognized the wine and have heard of an appleberry tart for enhancing pleasure, but I didn’t make the connection until Lighton started blubbering.”
“So, you let me barge in there knowing full well that I was about to intrude on such feral behavior?!”
“I did not,” he wheezed. “You threw yourself into that.”
“I cannot stand you.” She stomped down the passageway back toward the main building, his laughs chasing her the whole way.
Tal shoved the bookshelf open to an empty study. “I feel like such a prude witnessing that. And I’m not!” she added, glaring back at Faron and making her way through the room.
“I certainly feel violated.” Faron brushed the front of his shirt.
“Did they not see us? How did they not notice?” She peeked through the study door, watching for wandering servants.
“The appleberry tart focuses their minds on the needs of the flesh. They’re essentially in a pleasure-driven trance until the effects wear off.”
Tal’s lips pulled up in disgust. “And the wine?”
“The Unfruitful Wine prevents… ah… surprises?” Faron ran a hand through his hair, avoiding Tal’s gaze.
“A child, you mean?”
“Yes, a child. The wine prevents the… conception… of a child.” He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck.
