Her cheeks turned red and she clutched at the fur.
The woman gave her a look up and down, and then a smile that almost seemed friendly.
“I’ve heard of your Southern ways,” she said in a heavy Northern accent. “I am Dorva. Come.” She waved her hand in a strange gesture that in Leola’s part of the world would have been used to shoo away a fly.
Leola stepped from side to side uncertainly. “C-come? You want me to follow?” she asked, hesitant.
Dorva made the gesture again. “Come! Eat! Water! Bathing!”
Leola followed, and this seemed to satisfy the woman, who turned, and without pulling, led her by a leash out into the camp.
There were few people awake in the camp, and most were women tending to fires or children. They glanced up at Leola, but seemed disinterested in her, and continued with their business.
She followed the woman through the camp and down an embankment, where a large pot boiled over a fire. There was a strange, large vessel on the ground, made of the hide of some enormous animal, and hollowed out like a bathtub, but the strangest Leola had ever seen. It was half-filled with water.
“Enter,” Dorva told her.
The interior of the vessel was dark brown and ominous. It looked like the mouth of a giant beast, as though it might digest her rather than bathe her. “In there?” she asked.
Dorva smiled, and laughed a little. “In. Into the… pot. I am going to cook you for stew.”
Leola could not stop herself from looking shocked, but Dorva was smiling in such a friendly way that she quickly realized it was a joke. Still… she looked at the ‘pot’ with troubled eyes.
Dorva gestured to it again. “In, in!”
Leola hesitated, and then dipped a toe into the water. It was deliciously warm, so she stepped into the vessel.
Dorva snatched the fur from her. “You wear these in the bathing in your land?” she laughed. She shook her head. “Not here.”
Leola covered her chest with her arms and sat in the vessel. It was odd, but sturdy, and the water enveloped her as she sank into it.
Dorva scooped water from the boiling pot into a bucket, and then dipped her scoop into the tub to mix it. She walked to where Leola’s head was, and pressed on her forehead to tip her head back, without comment.
She poured warm water over Leola’s head, so that it fell through her tresses. She massaged her scalp gently, sending tingles through Leola’s body that were not entirely unlike the feelings that Sedrak sometimes imparted upon her.
Dorva began combing out the thick tresses with her fingers. “So you are my lord’s new pet?” she said. While the description made Leola furrow her brow, Dorva’s tone was still pleasant.
“I suppose I am,” she replied.
“Do you have a name?” Dorva asked.
“Leola. Leola Grace,” she whispered.
“Pretty,” Dorva said, starting to work her way around Leola’s scalp with a brush. “I saw you that first night. At the keep. That was a very brave thing you did, knowing not what would be asked of you.”
Leola’s insides tightened at the compliment and at her strange predicament. She said nothing in reply.
“How does a girl like you bring herself to stand up to the warriors who have defeated her own?” Dorva mused.
Leola tried to glimpse over her shoulder to read the woman’s expression. “My uncle raised me. I could not live with myself seeing him harmed.”
“Hm. Well, you have… honor. I’m not sure I could have done the same.” Dorva pulled the brush through Leola’s now untangled hair in a final stroke. Pocketing it, she looked down at Leola with smiling eyes. “May I braid it?”
Leola brightened at the question. “Of course. That would be… wonderful.”
“Splendid,” Dorva said. “So tell me, how are you enjoying being my lord’s plaything?” She giggled as she spoke the question.
Leola blushed but couldn’t blame Dorva for her curiosity. She would likely have wanted to know as well, had their situation been reversed. “It is… I am unaccustomed to that sort of attention,” Leola admitted, blushing again.
Dorva let out a raucous laugh from behind her. Parting her hair into three sections she began weaving them together in a braid.
Leola’s face went hotter still.
“My lord is as passionate a lover as he is a warrior,” Dorva said kindly, after Leola said nothing.
Leola tensed at the description. How would Dorva know? Had she been the object of his affections? A wicked, inexplicable jealousy twisted through Leola.
Jealous? Of what? I’m his toy, not his mistress!
“Or so I’ve been told,” Dorva added, a smile still on her lips.
Even more inexplicable was the relief Leola felt at this. That Dorva didn’t know Sedrak in that way was oddly comforting. She shivered as Dorva put her lips close to her ear and spoke.
“Tell me, has he pressed his manhood into you yet?”
Another shiver raced down Leola’s spine. “He has not,” she replied.
Dorva seemed taken aback by Leola’s tone. She came around the bathing vessel, braid suspended in her hand, to look at Leola. “Have you known a man that way?” she asked.
Leola’s face turned red and she looked down at the water in the vessel. “I have not,” she whispered.
Dorva stepped around to finish the braid without comment. She wove the hair together for several moments before saying, “That is very sweet, then, for the king.”
Leola’s hands balled to fists beneath the water. She looked down at the water shimmering over her bare flesh.
“Don’t be shy, dear,” Dorva said. She squeezed Leola’s shoulder gently. “I have heard, from the women who come from there, that the men and women of the Southern parts are not free to speak of these matters. ‘Tis very strange to us here. But here, women speak of men and what they do with them. To service a king is a great honor. Sedrak honors your bravery by making
