Felicity's shoulders shuddered in Brom's grasp, first at his whispered words, and then at the sight of the woman so happily going to tend to cleansing the horse of the evidence of the unnatural act she'd been forced to perform upon it.<br/><br/>"Yes, my lord," she whispered, and without resistance she turned to walk from the foreyard into the ominously looming keep, the torchlit interior somehow even darker and more foreboding than the night outside, as she passed into it. Would she ever, she wondered, leave this place alive and in her own mind?