Page 39 of Wrath of the Oracle

“Yes.” Ngele raised one perfectly painted eyebrow at her. “Someone you dream of spending the rest of your life with. Someone to protect you and offer you a home?”

“Home,” Sholei whispered under her breath. With the war ongoing and the fate of Mukuru in the balance, Sholei wasn’t sure if she would have a home left once everything settled. “If Prince Gane wins the war, I might still have a home to return to.”

”Prince Gane, the man leading the alliance in the south? Sholei, you must tell me more.” Ngele’s eyes grew wide with excitement.

“You’ve heard about him?” How much did the princess know about the ongoing war? Could she give up information Ojore held back?

“Everyone knows Prince Gane. I heard he’s quite handsome and a strategic general. How did you catch his eye?” Ngele’s voice was ecstatic as she leaned closer to Sholei.

“How do you know about him?”Is he still alive?Sholei wanted to add. If he died, then hope for Mukuru would be lost.

Ngele leaned in and whispered. “I have eavesdropped on some of Odende’s meetings. That’s how I learnedabout the leader of the alliance. Now tell me about my brother’s big competitor.” Ngele looked at her expectantly.

“I wouldn’t call him a competitor.” Heat crawled up Sholei’s neck. “I had a chance to work with him, but I am not sure anymore. He gave me a necklace, though.” A necklace that Ojore had stripped from her neck and drenched in his blood.

“Dreamy.” Ngele leaned in closer, the overhead light casting her smooth skin in a warm glow.

“He came to my rescue, but Ojore overpowered him.” Sholei didn’t mention she almost lost her life in the struggle between the two men. The scar on her body reminded her every day.

“A worthy opponent for my brother, then. A prince and a soldier.” Ngele clapped her hands.

“I am not interested in your brother.” Sholei wouldn’t consider Prince Ojore a rival to Gane. She wasn’t interested in Ojore.

“You might not be, but he is very much into you.” Ngele leaned back in her seat. “Don’t be fooled by his poor personality. Ojore has always behaved like a child when his object of interest is before him. He would appear quite possessive, but deep down, he only wishes you would acknowledge him.” Sholei didn’t know how to answer that.

“Think of him as a coconut.” The princess picked up the exotic fruit from the basket lying beside her feet. “All rough and hairy on the outside, but...” She crushed it on the ground. Water spilled out and revealed a white interior. “Inside, he is all white, pure, and sweet.” She handed the foreign fruit to Sholei.

Sholei’s thoughts flew to Ojore’s dark eyes. Sweet wasn’t how she would describe him.

Those words swarmed in Sholei’s head later as they headed into the wedding hall. True to Ngele’s style and fashion, the room was opulent. Sholei nearly drowned in the cheers and joyous noise that swarmed the air. Wildflowers and more drapery adorned the large hall, which was lit with lanterns on its high stone walls. Men and women of all ages mingled as music played. The children ran all over, their joyous faces painted, with pieces of food in their hands.

In the middle of the room was an assortment of gifts, farm produce, clothes, and even more jewelry. At the very front of the room stood the groom dressed in thick golden silk attire wrapped around his waist. His gold-banded arms held a long black staff. The material flowed to the floor and flared at his feet. From his neck hung a long black beaded necklace that stretched to his waist. The beaming look on his face trained on his bride.

The bride slowly advanced to the front, afan made of intricate drawings, beads, and feathers held close to her face. The beads matched the golden attire she had on and complimented the silver jewelry. Princess Ngele gave a shy smile as she gazed at her husband.

Drummers and other musicians stood behind the groom and his entourage, playing a lively tune. A couple of elderly men dressed in dark robes, the Dembe official court attire, watched the proceedings. Mueni’s insistent lessons of Dembe’s customs and norms were paying off, as Sholei could tell who attended the celebrations.

Ngele arrived and stood before her husband as the wedding rites were being performed.

Sholei’s eyes scanned the crowd and landed on Ojore, dressed similarly to the groom but with darker robes swaddled high on his waist. He sported a heavy black beaded necklace stretched to his waist, and Sholei’s gaze trained on the unique scars on his chest, scars he didn’t care to hide. His dreads twisted into two neat plaits secured at his nape, enhancing his stately features. He stood among a group of men dressed like him, with a warm smile on his lips as he observed the ceremony. His entire aura had changed, and he appeared more relaxed.

Sensing her gaze, Ojore turned, and their eyes met. His gaze smoldered as his eyes ran from her adorned head to sandaled feet. Liquid heat traveled through her body and pooled in her stomach from his gaze. Ngele chose a low-cut gown for her. She insisted the silver color would fit Sholei’s golden dusk tone. The back of the dress was held by silver chains crossing over her bare spine. The gown was long and shimmery and hugged her figure. Earlier, when Sholei stared at her image in the mirror, she couldn’t believe it. She had transformed into someone else.

Loud applause filled the air, signaling the couple’s union was blessed before the gods, ancestors, and man. Ojore started to walk toward her with a purposeful gait, but an excited old couple stopped him, cutting off his path. Sholei released a scattered breath.

“Let me show you to your seat.” A young girl grabbed her hand and led her to one of the circular tables decorating the venue.

“Are you feeling hot?” her young host asked, and Sholei realized her hands fanned her face. The girl handedSholei a drink and she downed the whole cup. When she turned to where Ojore was, he disappeared into the crowd. Her eyes roamed the room to search for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Wait, why am I looking for him?Sholei scolded herself. It must be the celebratory mood they were in that affected her, and Ngele’s words about Ojore having feelings for her. Sholei consoled herself. There was no other reason she was searching for him in the crowd. Ojore was an uncouth barbarian who only knew how to kill and harm, but that notion changed the more time she spent with him. Sholei was aware the war in Keseve wasn’t over. When Ojore returned to the camp, he had left a considerable number of his men in the south. Despite that, he took time to attend his sister’s wedding. He even brought her, a war prisoner, along. Who was the real Ojore? These puzzles crossed her mind over and over again.

The celebratory mood went on throughout the night. Food and drinks were plenty. Ngele sat close to her husband, and it seemed the world around them disappeared as they only had eyes for each other.

Was Ojore interested in her? Sholei couldn’t believe it. Mueni said the same thing. He had the attention of almost all the women in the room. Why would he want her? She questioned herself as her fingers tapped on the rim of her cup. Someone offered her alcohol, but she declined. She couldn’t forget the headache she experienced earlier in the day and chose to stick to fresh fruit drinks.

The last time she was in a celebration, Gane gave her a necklace. She recalled the dances, the ambiance, and Tula. Did Tula survive? Where was she? Tula had a strong sense of justice and Sholei prayed her friend didn’t blameherself for the kidnapping. If only Sholei could return to that night, she would heed Musembi’s words and stay in the medicine yard.

Would that have changed anything?

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