Page 33 of Wrath of the Oracle

“It was hilarious,” Mueni doubled in laughter.

“Keep alcohol away from me from now on.” Sholei frowned. “Is everything okay at the medical camp?” Sholei tried to change the topic as she settled back in her room.

“Nothing much happened during the night apart from two soldiers reporting stomach aches. Litonde attended to them.”

“Let’s check on them.” Sholei turned to change her clothes, but Mueni stopped her.

“The general instructed you to have breakfast with him today. I am here to collect you,” she said, a mischievous glint dancing in her bright eyes.

”Can I skip it?” Sholei asked with a hopeful smile. Breakfast with Ojore?No way. She would wait at the medicine tent for Litonde to bring her answers. If she never saw Ojore’s face again, she would be okay.

“You can’t. I have already selected clothes for you.” Mueni pointed to the clothes on the wall, embroidered brocade made of silver and gold threads. “The general bought these. You should try them.” She dragged the surprised Sholei forward.

Sholei looked at the new shiny clothes, her fingers tracing the fine craftsmanship. “I will put on what I usually have.”

“You shouldn’t forget that you will dine with the Prince of Dembe. He is royalty. I think you should dress the part. Here, let me help you.”

Sholei swallowed her complaints as she performed her morning toilet. Mueni helped her dress in the heavy material. The cloth covered her chest but exposed her delicate collarbones and had long loose sleeves. It flowed to her feet. The gold and silver threads glittered in the morning light. The material was luxurious, and though heavy, it felt light against her skin. A heavy set of golden waist beads were fastened on her waist. As usual, her attire wouldn’t be complete without a matching white fluffy cap. Whenever she received a new set of clothes, a matching cap was always amongst them. Mueni respected her distance and excused herself whenever Sholei wanted to change her scarf.

“These clothes are only worn by the wealthy and affluent in Dembe. As a gift, the general is trying to send a message,” Mueni said when she returned with a white coat.

“What message would that be?” Sholei met Mueni’s eyes while she adorned her silver earrings.

“His feelings,” Mueni answered, and Sholei scoffed under her breath. Ojore and romantic liaisons didn’t belong in the same sentence.

Her scrubbed and oiled feet were fitted in new leather sandals decorated with long, soft white furs that protected her legs from the chill. The sandals covered her from her feet to her knees.

“You look wonderful. The prince will not be able to tear his eyes away.” Mueni stared at Sholei with stars in her eyes. Sholei wished for the opposite; she hoped he would stay as far away from her as possible. Sholei prayed she would be able to swallow her food and not throw up on his face. Her stomach felt queasy from nerves and the effects of consuming alcohol the previous night.

“You are ready.” Mueni placed the heavy white cloak on her shoulder.

Maybe the idea of dining with him wasn’t bad. She might get a direct answer about her release. Sholei tried to have a positive outlook.

With tentative steps,Sholei made her way into the general’s quarters. While he was away, she did her best to avoid his chambers. As she stood before the wooden door, Sholei grew apprehensive. The scents of fresh delicacies wafted in the morning air, causing her stomach to turn.

“Maybe we should forget about this.” Sholei turned to Mueni.

“He won’t bite,” Mueni said, her eyes twinkled with mirth as she came to a halt. “I won’t be joining you.”

“You don’t expect me to go in there alone.” Sholei’s eyes widened.

“Don’t keep him waiting.” Mueni gave her a dismissive wave. She couldn’t hide her amusement.

Sholei straightened her back and entered the warm room. A fire burned bright in the middle of a pit surrounded by huge stones. Morning light from the expansive windows filtered in and blended with the blaze’s yellow glow, it cast the room in dazzling radiance.

Ojore stood in the middle of the room and faced away from her. He was dressed in heavy black robes, wrapped under his sinewy arms and secured on top of his left shoulder with a silver lion head crest. Thick golden bracelets hugged his lean biceps. The heavy fabric stretched to his ankles, and golden sandals peeked out from underneath his clothes. He had changed out of his military boots. She wondered why he dressed officially, not that she was complaining. He appeared with his long locks braided in plaits and styled into a high bun on top of his head. Behind him stood Akima, the ever-silent dark sentinel acknowledged her presence with a slight bow.

Ojore turned, and they stared at each other for several seconds. A slow smile stretched across his lips as an appreciative gaze swept her from head to toe. When his eyes settled on her face despite herself, her breath fluttered. Sholei was convinced it was the alcohol.

Besides minor scratches on his face and a bandaged wrist, Sholei couldn’t tell he was coming from a bloody war that had raged for some time. He stood regal and majestic in his tall frame. Under different circumstances, Sholei might be awed by his presence, but at that moment, he represented everything wrong in her life.

“You appear to be much more sober now.” He took a step toward her, slow and purposeful. Sholei stood transfixed as he approached her. His dark, spicy scent surrounded her and intoxicated her further. He raised his thick eyebrows at her, and Sholei hated the knowing smirk that danced on his face.

”I’m no longer soaked in coconut wine,” she breathed.

“Is that so?” His tone carried amusement. “How can I tell?” His voice dropped in a low husky whisper and a shiver ran up her spine.

“Check for yourself,” she dared him as she sunk deep in the browns of his eyes.

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