The knight primarily went to the bathhouse to mend the excruciating pain in his back. The male physician had finished putting hot cups on his skin. Now he said he needed to draw the blood from his skin. The knight was not scared of being wounded by swords or arrows. They were part of his sacrifice in this grueling crusade. What he did not like was to be an object of a study. He did not trust these physicians much, but the...

The heated cups clung to Konrad’s back like warm, inverted bells, each pulling at his skin until the ache in his muscles turned to something looser, almost fluid. He heard the physician murmur something to his assistant — and then realized the voice had changed. “Stay still, my Lord,” a soft, accented lilt instructed. “This last one must sit longer.” He froze. That voice. Isla moved within his peripheral vision, dark hair...

The heat of the flaying hall met Konrad like a wall — a living warmth, damp and rich with the mingled scents of wet stone, oil, and steamed herbs. The male bather stood ready, birch branches already soaking in a wooden bucket, their green leaves releasing a sharp, clean fragrance. Konrad stepped forward, bare but for the steam curling around his broad Nuremberger frame. His skin, pale from winters in armor, bore the small...