Page 43 of Wrath of the Oracle

“The grassland will be your deathbed, Prince Ojore,” one of the attackers said as the horses circled Ojore. Sholei counted five riders with their weapons pointed at Ojore.

“I would advise you to turn, and maybe I will spare your lives,” Ojore warned, his eyes on the speaker, his stance tense.

“It doesn’t matter how good you are, you can’t attack all of us at once,” the man who seemed to be the leader of the group said and pointed his sword at Ojore.

“You talk too much.” With a quick reflex, Ojore threw his spear and hit one of the horsemen in the chest,the man fell to the ground with a thud, his body prone on the dusty forest floor.

Dead, Sholei held back a gasp and covered her mouth with a sweaty palm.

She witnessed why Ojore wasthegeneral of the Dembe southern army in what felt like hours instead of moments. His fighting was poetic, his movements swift and calculated. The sword in his hand acted like an extension of his arm, as none of his blows missed the mark and bodies collapsed around him. Blood splattered his face and clothes as he slashed, stabbed, kicked, and punched his enemies.

Sholei’s palms grew slippery with sweat as she watched Ojore annihilate his opponents before her. She recalled the last time she witnessed him fight when he challenged Prince Gane at Bondeni Valley. She shook her head to dispel the thought. At that time, she had wished Ojore would die, but now, sheprayedhe lived.

It didn’t take long before everything went quiet. The men who came after him lay prone on the ground, their horses scattered. Sholei watched as Ojore stared at his opponents, his back toward her. Blood dripped from the tip of his sword to the ground. With a rough but swift tug, he pulled his sword from the body of the fallen man and searched the bodies before he hid them under thick foliage.

Above them, past the trees, the large eagle screeched as it flew by. Its shrill voice was sharp and high-pitched and caused Sholei to cover her ears.

Ojore was beside her again, his breath ragged and his face streaked with blood and sweat. She wondered if this was the face his enemies feared, the last person theysaw before they crossed the three doors of the afterlife. A shiver crawled up her arms.

“Are you okay?” Ojore asked at her reaction. He stared down at his hands, the fresh blood, and his stained clothes. He paused and regarded her with a cool look.

“Did I scare you?” he asked, his face a mask of indifference.

“What? No.” Sholei stood from where she crouched and approached him. “If it weren’t for your quick thinking, we wouldn’t be alive.” She removed her headscarf and soaked it in water from the flask on her waist. Princess Ngele made sure she was well packed for the trip back.

“I’m not afraid of blood or wounds.” She reached for his hands and wiped his large wrists with the wet fabric. He suffered minor cuts inside his broad palms and didn’t flinch when she wiped the tender injuries.

“Most women would faint at the sight of so much blood.” His eyes followed the movement of her hands as she worked.

“I doubt it. We’re much stronger than we look.” She gave him a watery smile as she turned to wipe his face.

“I am learning every day.” He gave her a lopsided grin and her stomach flipped. Even with the fresh blood, his good looks didn’t diminish. It added to his allure and made him more rugged,and dangerous. Sholei didn’t like the direction of her thoughts.

“Your tattoos are beautiful,” he commented after a long pause, forcing Sholei to look up at his gaze. His eyes were fixed on her head.

“They are hideous. I’ve had to cover them since I was a child.” Sholei felt uncomfortable at the endearing look in his eyes.

“We live in cruel times, where one is judged based on looks. One day, you’ll be free to walk around without being ashamed of them,” he said. With a clean finger, he traced the drawing—his touch light like the brush of a feather.

Sholei swallowed the lump past her throat at his gentle touch. All her life, Musembi insisted she shouldn’t walk around uncovered, as it wasn’t safe. To everyone else, the drawings marked her as different. An outcast.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sholei dropped her hand and pushed back his finger from her head. “People fear what they don’t understand. I don’t blame them.”

With the new side to Ojore, it was easy to forget he held her hostage. The men in the war camp might treat her better than her community in Mukuru, but Sholei couldn’t lie to herself; she didn’t belong there. If her people rejected her, why would it be different in Dembe? She wasn’t losing her marks anytime soon. Only by becoming a prominent person would she survive. Everyone bowed to power.

A horse neighed, and Ojore stood before her and pushed her behind him. Radi’s long nose peered through the thick foliage, and he trotted toward them. Ojore’s back relaxed as he raised his arm to pat his steed’s nose.

“We meet again.” Man and beast bumped heads together, and Sholei smiled at the duality of Ojore’s behavior. His gentleness with Radi was a huge contrast to how he fought.

Soon, they were on their way out of the thicket.

“We can’t ride back to the camp. We’ll take a detour in case they waylay us again.” Ojore changed direction, and they rode farther away, his stance tense behind her back. They avoided the open plains and rode underneath thick trees with lots of cover.

“We’ll stop here for the night.” Ojore climbed down from the horse and took her with him. They stopped by a small clearing with a clear stream. The sun descended on the horizon, and the crickets were loud. Ojore tied his horse to a tree, and Radi nibbled the grass.

“We can’t light a fire. It might alert my pursuers.” Ojore turned to her. Sholei nodded despite her nerves. The moon was high in the sky and offered them some light.

She was going to spend the night alone with Ojore. The thought swam in her head as she tried to calm her panic. On the day they met, he’d been sick and unconscious. With her current feelings and wayward thoughts, Sholei grew apprehensive. She felt something for him and couldn’t explain why her body betrayed her whenever he came near. Ojore wouldn’t do anything to harm her. He had an opportunity when she lodged in his chambers and he hadn’t tried anything. Sholei didn’t know how she’d survive the entire night with him in such proximity.

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