Chapter 19 #3
“Remain still or your neck will be slit open,” she hissed.
He froze. Sweat on his upper lip coated Tal’s fingers. He panted against her hand.
“Scream and you die. Understood?”
He nodded vigorously.
She removed her hand from his mouth and pressed the dagger tighter against his neck to prove her point. “Who are you?”
“L-Lord Lighton.”
“Where are the others?” Tal eased the pressure behind her dagger. Lighton shook so much he nearly cut himself on the blade.
His unsteady hand pointed further down the tunnel. She could see they had reached a valley, and the stone began to slope upward beyond where they stood.
“P-P-Please. They told me we weren’t doing anything wrong. They said they wanted it.” Sweat made his near-blonde hair stick to his forehead.
“Did you ask them that or are these your friends’ words?” she snarled.
“Ple-ease. This is my first time. I s-swear I haven’t even touched one of them yet.”
“Tch—People like you disgust me. You think you can take advantage of someone because you have more money than them?”
The man blubbered, and Tal’s anger grew. She gripped the hilt of her dagger harder and gritted her teeth.
“What are they doing in the dovecote?” said a deep growl behind them. Tal spun with the man to find Faron in shadow. He had disguised his voice to the point where even she didn’t recognize it.
Smart, she thought. A small part of her felt guilty for jumping into the situation against their previous agreement. She risked exposing Faron to his fellow nobility. She would have to make it up to him somehow.
“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. In groups! 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.
“Are you okay over there, your lordship?” Tal pushed open the heavy wooden door and eased into the dark hall.
“Barely. Let’s get out of here before anyone catches us.”
Pepper’s saddle became a constant remind of the scenes replaying in Tal's head the whole ride back. She had to threaten to cut the smirk off Faron’s face. They had escaped the grounds without issue as most of the servants and all the guests were otherwise indisposed.
“Would you like to share my saddle? I can assure you it’s quite comfortable.” The amusement in his voice infuriated her.
“One more suggestive remark and I swear, I’ll slip one of those damned tarts into your pastries when you aren’t looking.”
“Do that, and you’ll surely regret it, I promise you.” Something in his voice had Tal thinking of the scene at the dovecote, and she had to shift in the saddle again. “Unless you’d like to eat one as well.”
“I don’t need to eat a pastry to enjoy a man, or a woman for that matter.”
Faron lost his laughter to a coughing fit. In a raspy voice, he said, “Hells, woman. Don’t speak like that.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve become prudish,” she scoffed.
“Just the opposite. You test my wavering self-control.”
Tal shifted in the saddle again. This time Faron didn’t remark on the movement.
The moonlight silhouetted him, and Tal knew if she could see the gleam in his eyes, she would throw caution to the wind and kiss him in the middle of the forest. Hells, ever since they left the mansion behind, her body had urged her to even more.
Out of sheer frustration, she sent Pepper into a full gallop to get out of that forest as fast as she could.
I need to focus, she told herself. She couldn’t let Faron distract her.
What should have been a night of answers turned into a dead-end.
They were still no closer to finding the mage, and she felt like a sitting duck.
Annoyance flared within her. Families were fleeing to the mountains.
Children were starving. Hells, they were living in sewers.
All while the nobility ate, drank, and fucked without a care in the world.
What can I do? Tal asked herself, hoping to find the answers among the trees.
When none came, she was left with an itch in her chest and a fire burning through her.
She grabbed at the itch, firming her resolve.
Her fury purred at the attention. It lapped against its cage, urging Tal to set it free.
She pursed her lips, ready for tomorrow to come. She didn’t find the mage. But she could prepare for the day when she would.