Page 22 of Wrath of the Oracle

She raised the covers and noticed a thin cloth around her wound. Her clothes were different too. Her worn-out cotton dress had been replaced with smooth, colorful silk embroidered in intricate patterns. Sholei never dressed in silk. Then everything flooded back: the battle in Vipingo Gorge, Prince Gane falling, and Ojore, her captor, stabbing her.

Where was she? Did Gane survive? How long had she been unconscious?

“You are awake.” She snapped her head toward the deep, drawling voice. Ojore. Sholei hadn’t heard him come in.

He stalked in like a wild cat and leaned against the wood door frame, his arms crossed over his massive chest. He was dressed in pleated black attire tucked into a belt around his lean waist, the material stretched past his long legs to his feet. A loose, light, matching coat draped on his broad shoulders. The thick belt at his waist held a strapped knife. Sholei wondered if he went anywhere without a weapon.

The rich hue of the black color lined with gold stripes added to her suspicion that the man before her came from wealth. His sculpted legs were encased in black animalhide boots peeking underneath the luxurious robes. Not everyone could afford such footwear. She ran her eyes back to his face to confront the obscure looks he sent in her direction. He had let down his long locks, and they now framed his angular face. The overhead lantern cast a warm glow on his skin, making his sharp features appear like a predator in the dark. Sholei swallowed. She felt like trapped prey at the mercy of a hunter.

She threw the blanket back over her body and clutched it close to her chest, instant pain hitting her. No man had ever seen her in such a state, and having him look at her so casually rubbed her the wrong way. What was it with this man and his indecipherable looks? Wait, was he the one who changed her clothes? Sholei panicked. She tried to move from the bed, but her wound protested.

“Easy, you are yet to heal.” In two long strides, he was by her side and called for someone behind his back. He pushed her back under the covers and ignored her hands as she tried to drive him away.

“This time, you won’t get away as easily as you did from the cave, witch.” He tucked the covers to her neck, his dark gaze on her. His scent wafted to her nose, spicy and fragrant. Just like the bedding she lay on.Was she in his room? His bed?

“Stop calling me a witch.” Sholei’s anger rose as she tried her best to ignore the warmth he emitted. “What happened to Prince Gane?” she breathed.

At Gane’s name, he stopped and frowned at her. “Is that all you can think about? You almost died because of him.” His voice was low, and his jaw muscles ticked.

“Did you kill him?” The words came out labored. Prince Gane couldn’t be dead.

“What do you think?” He tightened his hold on the blanket, his face inches from hers, his deep brown eyes glinted so hard they almost turned golden in the orange torch burning above them. “I warned you at the cave to forget about him.”

“Hecan’tbe dead,” Sholei whispered through gritted teeth. “Prince Gane is someone who values loyalty. He will soon come for me.” Sholei hoped her hard gamble would pay off. She had proven her loyalty to Gane, and her mind chanted the words. “He will come for me.”

“Is that why you jumped in front of my sword? Risking your life to carry his favor? Does your life mean so little?” His hands tightened on her shoulders, as he pressed her down on the bed.

“What would it mean to you if I lived or died?” Sholei asked. “With Prince Gane’s death, my dreams die too.” Sholei gambled everything away; if Gane died, that would put a dent in her plans.

“My lord, you called.” A timid voice came from the door, and Sholei broke her gaze from Ojore to the young girl standing by the door holding a tray with a steaming bowl, her eyes downcast. Sholei tried to break free from Ojore’s hold, feeling embarrassed having been caught in such a compromising position, but he held on, his gaze still on her.

“Your medicine is here.” After a hard glare, Ojore released her and straightened his tall form. “I am impressed with your daring escape from the cave, but that won’t happen again. You will not be able to drug hundreds ofsoldiers inside this camp like you did before, so don’t try.” He removed imaginary lint from his robes, and Sholei sat up, ignoring the pain in her stomach.

“You are a war captive now. Better act like one.” With that, he left the room in a huff, and Sholei sat up, ignoring the pain. She tightened her fists into balls.A war captive?He didn’t even answer any of her questions. His arrogance infuriated her, but underneath all that, she was scared. What had happened to Gane? What would happen to her?

The girl by the door approached Sholei and offered the bowl. Based on her bright, youthful skin, the girl didn’t seem much younger than her. The tangy scent of herbs wafted to her nose.

“My Lady, your medicine is here.” She knelt beside the bed on the animal skin that adorned the wooden floor, dressed in a short, blue cotton gown, the material stretching from under her arms to above her knees. A simple beaded waistband wrapped around her midsection and her hair was plaited in neat braids intertwined with blue beads.

“Why do you address me like that?” Sholei asked, looking at the stretched bowl like it contained poison.

“If I don’t, the Prince will be displeased with my service.” The girl didn’t raise her eyes to Sholei’s face.

“The Prince? Ojore is a Prince?” She repeated her question, her eyes widening as she glanced at the door he had gone through.

“Yes… he is the first son of the King of Dembe,” the girl answered, unsure if she was revealing too much.

The news came as a surprise to Sholei. How come the son of a king had such a battered body? Ojore must have led a difficult life if he survived such extensive injuries—a prince with scars, unlike Prince Gane, who barely sported such extensive wounds despite being a war chief in the Mukuru Kingdom. She willed Gane to survive. Even if he didn’t, she had to find a way to escape from Ojore. She would find a way back to her old life, to Musembi and Tula. From there, she would carve another plan to get to the Faye Islands.

“My Lady?” the girl called, raising curious eyes at Sholei.

“Call me Sholei.” Sholei took the medicine from her hand and placed it on the stand beside the bed.

“I can’t. Courtesy does not allow me to do so.” The girl shook her head, and her gaze lowered again. Sholei had never had someone serve her, and it was unsettling to have a girl kneel in front of her and formally address her.

“What is your name?” she changed the direction of her questions.

“I am Mueni, and I was brought here to be your servant.” The girl beamed when she said that, taking pride in her role. “It is the first time I’ve left the capital.”

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