Free Bells of the Kingdom (Children of the Desert Book 3) by Leona Wisoker

they will see you alone, and carry tales.”
    He swallowed hard, weighing alternatives; looked at the size of the tub, thought about his own past and his own fears, and finally said, “F-female. Please.”
    Please, gods, don’t let Riss walk in, he added silently.
    She bobbed and motioned him towards the tub, then left the room without further comment.
    He settled into the still steaming water with a deep relief that only came in part from the heat soothing his muscles. It felt considerably less vulnerable to be at least this covered.
    The young woman returned to the room a short while later, carrying a simple wooden tray laden with an assortment of soaps, small jars, and bath brushes. She hooked the tray on the side of the tub, studied the array of jars thoughtfully, then selected one and carefully unstoppered it. Holding it up before her face, she blew across the mouth of the jar, aiming toward Idisio.
    A delicate scent reminiscent of mingled rosemary and lavender wafted past him. The servant studied Idisio’s face for a moment, resting the tip of the stopper against the lip of the jar, then shook her head.
    “No,” she murmured. “Not quite.” She replaced the stopper and selected another bottle. This time the aroma carried a distinct overtone of apples, cloves, and ginger; Idisio found himself smiling like a newborn fool.
    The servant returned the smile, then shook two carefully measured drops into the tub. The air around Idisio turned into a fragrant orchard. He sagged back against the wall of the tub, groaning. His eyes slid shut. Dimly, he heard the clink of the glass stopper being replaced; then came a pleasant silence for a few moments.
    Water shifted and swirled.
    He opened his eyes as the young woman finished settling into the water across from him.
    “Uhm,” he said in vague protest, too relaxed to really care. “You’re kathain?”
    “We are all kathain, ha’inn,” she said. “I judged myself the best suited to handle your needs. The others would not understand your northern bias, but I grew up in the north, and I understand.”
    He squinted, then let his eyes droop closed again. It took a moment to think of something polite to say; finally he tried: “Where in the northlands are you from?” Not that he actually cared, but it was the type of light social comment he’d heard others make in situations—well, not like this, but in casual conversation.
    “That is from a life past, and not important,” she said. “You need not concern yourself with that question, ha’inn. You need not be polite with me.”
    He twitched a shoulder in a shrug and let out a long sigh, surprised at his own relief.
    “You may speak of anything you choose, or not,” she said. “We are bound to silence, always. Ask what you will, I must answer.”
    He cracked an eye and regarded her thoughtfully, wondering what she would do this time if he asked about the whistle-language. But she’d given him a clear enough warning, and he understood it too well to press the matter.
    “What’s your name?” he said instead.
    “Anada, ha’inn.”
    “Call me Idisio.”
    She dipped her head in a slight nod. “If I may, I will.”
    “Please. This is all—really new to me.”
    She stood, leaning to reach the tray; water streamed down high, firm breasts and a solid torso, far from skinny but nowhere near overly-plump, either.
    “If you would like,” she said as she selected a cake of soap, “I will bathe you now.”
    Idisio shut his eyes and let out a slight whimper.
    “I really wish you wouldn’t,” he said. “I have—I’m with—there’s a girl.” He winced at his own idiotic stammering.
    There came a long silence; at last he opened his eyes a slit and found Anada holding the bar of soap out to him, her expression patient.
    “Others would be offended,” she said when she saw him looking at her. “This is why I elected myself the most suitable. I understand.”
    He gulped, relieved, and tried not to actually grab