Page 17

S holei excused herself from her hosts and stalked outside the room, away from the noise and merry making. Back home, she had witnessed the wedding celebrations from afar. She and Tula would join the crowd on the streets after the bride’s wedding convoy, but she didn’t enter the venues for fear of rejection.

The feeling of participating in a royal wedding overwhelmed her. Sholei took in the sights, scents, and merriment to her fill. She didn’t know when she would attend such a glamorous event again.

A small girl with flowers tucked in her hair stopped before her as she neared the wide doors and held out a bouquet of wildflowers to Sholei.

“This is for you.” The little girl stretched the blossoms to Sholei and revealed a toothy grin. Her hair bounced on her head. Sholei bent as she took the fresh-scented bunch.

“Thank you.” Sholei inhaled the fragrant scent.

“The prince asked me to deliver them.” The young girl turned to the door, her wooly hair swaying with the effort. She dashed past Sholei to join her friends, who beckoned her. Sholei smiled at the innocence of youth and walked outside the room past milling people laughing and dancing.

“Join us.” A young woman pulled her toward a group of inebriated youngsters. They danced to the music with drinks in their hands and their faces lit with glee.

“You will have to wait for your turn.” Ojore appeared by her side and hooked her arm to his elbow. Sholei hadn’t heard him approach. He moved silently, like a wild cat.

“Pardon, Prince Ojore, we didn’t know…” the woman fumbled for words. Her friends behind her nodded in agreement.

“Maybe I will join you later,” Sholei chuckled at their apprehension. Until recently, she had feared Ojore too, but she had learned he was more man than beast.

Ojore tugged her closer, and the muscle under her fingers flexed. Sholei tried to ignore his scent as he led her down a narrow street lit with warm lanterns.

“Thank you for the flowers.” She didn’t know what else to say as they strolled away from the wedding hall.

“Do you like them?” His eyes searched her face. Under the warm lights, his features softened. It was easy to forget about his deadly persona when he put away his war armor .

“They are beautiful. It’s a pity they will wither and die after tonight.” Sholei inhaled their scents again, and the soft petals brushed against her skin.

“Even though flowers are delicate, they can last long with good care.” Ojore reached down and plucked one stalk from the bunch. He stopped her and placed the stem behind her right ear. Sholei held her breath as his callused finger brushed against the soft skin behind her ear when he adjusted her headscarf.

“I’m afraid nothing lasts that long.” Her voice came out strained, his gentle demeanor taking her by surprise.

“You can’t be certain without trying.” He held her gaze for a few moments before he linked their fingers together.

“Did you enjoy the wedding?” He continued to walk like nothing happened. To a passerby, they painted a picture of lovers taking a stroll.

“Your sister is beautiful,” Sholei recalled Princess Ngele’s ear-to-ear smile throughout the ceremony. Earlier, she and the now-titled Lord Odende left the wedding hall to retire for the night.

“Why didn’t you tell me I’d be attending a royal wedding? I didn’t bring any gifts,” she asked him.

“Living with men of war can be a different experience. I brought you out to have a change of environment,” he explained. “Besides, the amount of assets I gave Ngele will cover for that indiscretion.”

“I’m sure the princess appreciates your presence more than any gift you could present her.” When a woman got married, her family accompanied her with different gifts, the best of which were assets in terms of precious metals such as gold. To have Ojore present such a gift to his sister portrayed how much he valued her. Sholei sighed with subtle jealousy. How nice would it be to have a brother? Tula’s face popped in her head, and Sholei sniffed back tears.

“After this war settles and I report back to the court, I’ll accompany you to the Faye Islands.” Ojore held her gaze. She peeked under her eyelashes at him and found his gaze on her.

“Can I choose where to work after I complete my studies?” she asked. Maybe he’d let her go back to Mukuru. Back to Musembi and Tula.

“The condition before I let you go to the Academy was to work for Dembe capital.” He narrowed his gaze at her. “There is nothing for you back in Mukuru.” Ojore’s back tensed before he faced her. “Soon it will fall under Dembe.”

“When that happens, what will happen to my family and friends?” Sholei tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. She missed Musembi, Tula, and her life in the medicine yard.

“You’re more concerned about something else?” Ojore’s voice tensed.

“I don’t know what…” Sholei’s hands tightened on the flowers in her hand.

“Prince Gane is still alive. Is he the reason you keep dreaming of going back to Mukuru?” His voice was low, and Sholei couldn’t explain the anger she noticed in his statement. “Gane is a good military strategist but has overestimated himself.” Ojore stepped closer to her and lowered his tone. “He won’t survive in the long run. He doesn’t have the capability of leading such an army.”

“The war isn’t over; you can’t predict the outcome,” Sholei defended Gane.

“He won’t be coming for you,” Ojore spoke through gritted teeth. “After I take over Mukuru, the male royals inside the capital won’t survive.”

“You can’t do this… its wrong…” Ojore talked about death so casually Sholei couldn’t comprehend how he could be so… ruthless .

”This is war, Sholei.” Ojore took another step toward her, and Sholei shuffled back, scared of the dark glint in his eyes. “Gane is my enemy. The more you defend him, the more I want him dead.”

“Stop.” Sholei clutched the bunch in her hands, ready to use it as a weapon. No one was around the quiet street, and the music from the wedding party streamed from afar.

“Are you scared?” Ojore leaned in, and Sholei held the flowers close to her chest. The thorny branches dug into her palms and blood coated her hand.

“Should I be?” Her breath came out short. She was scared, but something else crawled up her spine and licked her skin. Ojore didn’t touch her, yet she burned when he lowered his eyes and focused on her lips.

“I hate the sound of another man’s name on your lips.” He traced his thumb across her parted lips, his eyes glowed in the low light. His scent engulfed her, and Sholei’s hand itched to touch him, to pull him closer.

Asaa , the snarling voice cackled in her head and sharp pain hit her. She collapsed in Ojore’s arms, her head reared back as she screeched .

“Sholei, are you okay?” Ojore’s voice held a note of panic as he held her. Through the haze in her head, she looked up and came face to face with a statue of Lord Keita and Asaa.

She had been so focused on Ojore that she hadn’t notice the tall, grand sculpture that graced the street. Unlike the statue back in Mukuru capital, where Asaa was interlocked in Lord Keita’s claws, the one before her depicted Asaa’s long, sleek body circling the great eagle. As if suspended in time, Lord Keita’s sharp beak was open and raised to the dark sky, in a silent shriek. Asaa’s long glistening fangs sank deep into his thick, dark-feathered neck, its poignant eyes on her.

“Look at me.” Ojore shook her shoulders, and Sholei dragged her eyes from Asaa’s eyes to Ojore’s concerned gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle. The pain disappeared and Sholei blinked, her eyes wide. What happened? She touched her headscarf. Why did she experience pain while her scarf was on?

“You’re freezing.” Ojore’s eyes roamed her face as he palmed her cheeks and forced her to look up at him. The warmth of his fingers sank into her cool skin. Whenever the headache came, her skin turned ice cold.

“I’m fine,” she assured him.

“You screamed loud enough to wake the dead.” Ojore ran his hands up and down her shoulders to generate heat. “Is the statue connected to your nightmares?” He paused after the question. “Back in Mukuru, you fainted in the street underneath Lord Keita’s statue. ”

“My nightmares?” Just how much did she reveal to him?

“You mentioned only monsters attack your dreams.” Ojore’s jaw ticked as he helped her up, and Sholei let go of the thorny bunch. The flowers fell at the feet of the towering statue. Her red blood coated the soft petals.

“Every time I come across a statue of Lord Keita and Asaa, my head hurts,” she said.

“Do you know the connection between the headache and your dreams?” Ojore pressed on. His intense gaze made Sholei uncomfortable. The only person who knew of her curse was Musembi, and they didn’t talk about it. Telling Ojore about it was out of the question. First, he’d seen her tattoos, and now he knew about her nightmares. What next?

“There’s no connection.” Sholei pushed away from him and started back to the party hall. She wasn’t about to spill everything, certainly not to Ojore.

“Sholei, wait.” With long strides, Ojore cut in front of her. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you, but you can’t avoid the truth. You must face it someday.”

“Lord Keita is the god of the Northern Skies, and I feel like he has something against me.” Sholei pointed at the tall statue, now shrouded in semi-darkness, which enhanced its menacing look.

“Lord Keita is a guardian to the people. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Ojore followed the direction of her finger. His eyes glazed over for a second when he mentioned the name of the god of the Northern Skies .

“Why would he be locked in battle with me?” The question caught her off guard, as if something spoke through her.

“Why would you think you’re Asaa?” Ojore’s eyes narrowed, and Sholei could only gape at him, mouth open.

“I hope I get to see you in Dembe. There is so much we must do once you get there.” Princess Ngele hugged Sholei, her new-found friend. Sholei was sad to let go; their encounter was brief but memorable.

“I wish you a happy marriage. We shall meet if it’s the will of the gods,” Sholei said.

They stood facing the stone fortress of the small community of Wangi. Sholei learned the male residents of Wangi were once soldiers in the Dembe Southern army but were released from duty for various reasons. Some were too old, others bore wounds and suffered chronic diseases that prevented them from fighting in the war. They chose not to return to Dembe and stayed in the warmer grasslands. They married local women and formed a community, and Ojore granted them immunity from the court.

Lord Odende, the princess’s husband, would shed his identity as a soldier and work at the king’s court. Since he became a royal close to the throne, he wasn’t allowed to command any army. He let go of his ambition for the princess; he stood beside his wife and couldn’t hide his affection for her. Sholei wondered if she would ever have that kind of connection with someone .

“We have to get back to the camp before sundown.” Ojore stood before Radi, saddled and ready.

“Take care on your way back.” The princess took her brother’s forearms. “We didn’t get to spend much time together, but thank you for bringing Sholei to my wedding.”

“You will spend more time together when she settles in the capital.” Ojore patted his sister’s hand.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Ngele admonished her brother.

“Focus on your marriage. It won’t be easy for Odende to settle in court. He is a good soldier, but he will need your help maneuvering the dirty politics that plague Father’s palace.” Ojore bumped Ngele’s nose with his knuckle, a smile dancing on his lips.

“Whatever happens, we choose to go through it together.” Lord Odende assured his friend and shook his forearm.

Sholei observed the brother and sister’s interaction. Ojore gave his sister a warm smile. Brother and sister might banter and throw jabs at each other, but they shared genuine affection.

As they waved their goodbyes, the horse trotted forward, and a single tear dropped from the princess’s eyes as her husband held her close.

They traveled in companionable silence, and Sholei soaked in the wind on her face and the warm, firm feeling of Ojore’s body behind her. She loved the thrill of riding a horse .

After encountering the statue the previous night, Ojore accompanied her back to her room. He informed her they would leave the following day and then he retired for the night. Sholei was thankful he didn’t press with more questions. They hadn’t spoken much at breakfast, and she avoided Ojore’s questioning looks.

They weren’t far from the stone fortress when Ojore tensed behind her a second before he leaned forward and pushed her against the neck of the horse. An arrow swished past her ear and missed them by inches. Sholei yelped and hugged Radi’s neck tight.

“Stay low and cover your head.” Ojore’s tight voice came from somewhere above her.

She did as she was instructed and held on for dear life. Horse hooves raced behind them and she turned to witness several riders hot on their tail. They screamed above their horses with raised weapons. They were dressed in black, their faces covered with dark turbans. Sholei couldn’t tell who they were, which scared her even more.

Ojore changed the course of the horse and Radi dashed into some thickets surrounded by tall acacia trees. Ojore guided his horse as it dashed through the thorny bushes.

Ojore jumped from the horse in midair and took Sholei down with him. Sholei’s eyes darted around with fear. In the distance, the men’s loud war cries called Ojore’s name. Ojore hit Radi’s rump, and the horse rushed out of the thicket just as the war cries of their pursuers grew closer.

Ojore took her hand and ran deep into the thickets, clear from the prickly thorns. When they reached a huge tree, Ojore pulled her down and took a band from his wrist to tie back his wild hair.

Was he going to confront them? Could he take on such a large group?

“Sholei, I want you to listen to me.” He adjusted his spear on his back and drew his sword from the shaft. “Those men are after my life.” He raised his eyebrow at her when she didn’t reply.

“Why do they want you dead?” She found her question redundant as soon as it came from her mouth. Of course, someone wanted him dead. He had led conquests for many years and accumulated many enemies.

She, too, wanted him dead, but at the moment, Ojore was the lesser of the two evils. She doubted if their pursuers were a friendly lot.

“I have many adversaries who want me dead.” Ojore clenched his fist on the black sword.

“Do you have to do this?” She held onto his hand that gripped the sword with both of hers. No matter how large a fish is, big bait will catch it. She had witnessed him fight and Sholei didn’t doubt Ojore’s prowess, but their pursuers might overwhelm him with their number.

“I don’t hide from my enemies. I confront them and fight.” His voice carried a hint of amusement that betrayed their overall situation . What was so funny? They could easily lose their lives . “They will soon realize that Radi is all alone and will come back for me. I must be ready.”

“Try to avoid getting killed,” Sholei said. He tried standing up, but Sholei held on to him. She realized she didn’t want him dead, and the thought shocked her more than the situation they were in .

”If I don’t go out there, we’ll be caged here. I don’t want to put you in danger.” Ojore paused, then closed his arms around her, and held her close. Acting on pure instinct, she wrapped her arms around his middle and nuzzled her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady and firm in her ear.

“It feels good to have you care for me,” he whispered against her ear as he tightened his hold. “Don’t come out, no matter what you hear or see.”

Then he was gone. Sholei crouched under the tree and kept herself small. She had a clear view through the thicket. The horse riders soon surrounded him. Sholei grabbed the protruding root tree and narrowed her eyes, glued to the scene before her.

“You chose the wrong day to attack me.” Ojore’s voice was steady and loud enough for her to hear above the neighs and horse stamps. Dust swirled around, and a loud eagle screeched above the trees. Sholei’s mouth fell open at the same bird that attacked her on the day she met Ojore. Did it follow him?

“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 was the general 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, she prayed he 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 they saw 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.

“It’s not much, but we’ll make do.” Ojore unloaded the horse and set down the makeshift sleeping blanket. On observing the narrow material, Sholei’s heart sped up. Were they going to sleep in the same space? As the image of Ojore’s hard body so close to hers appeared in her mind, Sholei took a deep breath .

“You look sick. Are you okay?” She hadn’t heard Ojore approach until he stood before her and took her hand.

Sholei jumped as if a hot coal had touched her. “I’ll start the fire.” She took off. Then she recalled they couldn’t light a fire. Sholei cursed her scattered wits. Behind her, she couldn’t see the confusion on Ojore’s face being replaced by a knowing smirk.

After a short while, Ojore disappeared, and he left her with Radi. Sholei turned to rub Radi’s nose and tried to ignore her nerves around Ojore. After a short time, she sat on the sleeping mat under the tree and leaned back to stare at the star-filled sky. It would have been the best time to try and run away, but with Ojore’s killers out there, it wouldn’t be wise. She also couldn’t trace the direction from where they were to Mukuru capital. Getting lost at night with murderous men on the loose didn’t sound like a good idea.

When Ojore returned, his face was scrubbed clean, and he had changed his clothes.

“Did you take a bath?” Sholei asked before she stopped herself. She hadn’t heard water splash or any movement after he left. How was it possible he didn’t make any noise at all?

“Would you have liked to join me?” He raised his eyebrow as he took a seat next to her. Sholei started to move away from his alluring scent and encroaching heat, but he took her arm and pulled her back.

“Tonight, you’ll have to bear my presence.” He held her gaze as his thumb brushed her arm. “I won’t try anything you wouldn’t want me to.” He winked before he released her. Sholei’s heart skipped, and she pulled her legs close to her chest. She tried to keep herself as small as possible.

Ojore removed a small arrowhead from his waist pouch and held it up in the little light.

“It’s the same as the one I found on you the day we met.” She took the arrowhead and examined its rough edges, glad to have something to distract herself from his overwhelming presence.

“I am afraid this time, my enemies come from Dembe. This iron is indigenous to Dembe’s vast ore deposits,” he said. “I also found this.” He handed her a small, circular copper pendant with the image of a silverback gorilla traced on its surface.

“You got this from the assassins?” Sholei traced her finger on the ridged surface.

“Sokwe Society.” Ojore’s tone turned grim.

It didn’t matter who you were or where you lived, everyone heard of the Sokwe Society, an infamous group of assassins with roots in the cities in the plains. Not much of the organization was known apart from when they struck. The only evidence left behind was a black gorilla pendant, its carvings the same as the one on the pendant she held.

“Why would the Sokwe Society hunt you?” Sholei asked.

“My status is a threat to certain members of my father’s court.” Ojore drew in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort.

“It’s daring for them to go after a prince.” No matter how daring someone was, to use the Sokwe Society to go after a prince of Dembe and the general of Dembe’s army was unwise. Unless that person was more powerful than Ojore.

“The one who sent them after me sits in a very high position in the Dembe court; Queen Nnandi.” Ojore tucked the arrowhead and pendant back into his waist pouch. The action caused his loose shirt to drift open and expose his scars to her. Sholei found her eyes fixed on the puckered flesh. How could the son of a king get such wounds? Six crisscrossing scars that didn’t appear to be lash marks. What had he been hit with?

Royal sons were prone to fight for the throne, just like Prince Gane. Ojore wasn’t spared the deadly politics either.

“I would like to blame her for these scars, but just like your tattoos, I was born with them.” He pulled the leather belt close and covered his puckered skin from her eyes. He pulled her closer and enclosed her in his arms. Sholei tried to calm her racing heart and keep the conversation going. He leaned back against the tree with her.

“Are you close with your family?” she relaxed against him, his heartbeat steady against her ear. She avoided the topic of tattoos to avoid a repeat of the discussion on the night of Ngele’s wedding.

“I joined the military to escape from certain death,” he started. His right hand stroked her arm, and the up and down motion sent a friction of awareness through her body. “My father is oblivious to the queen’s deadly schemes. She is intent on killing me as I pose a threat to Prince Kengani’s rise to the throne.”

“Why would no one stop her?” She inhaled his unique scent, now fresh after washing away the smell of blood .

“Queen Nnandi comes from the mighty Mumbi clan,” he added. “I have survived death by poisoning and numerous other attempts against my life when I lived in the palace. Only in my maternal grandfather’s home did I ever feel safe.”

“Were you close with your grandparents?” Sholei tried to picture a young Ojore as he followed his grandfather around.

“My grandmother died earlier. I never met her, but I was close to my grandfather. He took me in trade caravans to other kingdoms and cities as he conducted his trade. He taught me several languages and almost everything I know today.” Ojore spoke with adoration.

“You should visit him more if he means so much to you,” Sholei recalled Musembi. Despite her harsh upbringing, the older woman represented home. Until her captivity, she didn’t realize how much she was attached to her. To think their last discussion was an argument made her heart ache.

“He’s long left the three doors of the afterlife.” Ojore’s voice grew low and calm. “He passed away after insisting I join the army.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Sholei didn’t know what else to say. To lose such a loving grandfather before being thrown into the brutal life of a soldier at a young age must have been hard on him.

“I never knew my parents.” Sholei felt compelled to share her story. Ojore grew quiet and listened. His loose hold on her grew tighter as he offered silent comfort.

“Musembi raised me at the medicine yard and didn’t hide the fact that I was a castaway in the community. Why would anyone throw away a healthy child if it wasn’t cursed?” Sholei paused to steady her breathing. Apart from Tula, she had never opened up to anyone before, but she found it easier to talk to Ojore. Maybe the darkness offered her a shield. She didn’t know if she could speak up in the light.

“The only thing I have to help me trace my origins is a small armlet Musembi found on me and the drawings on my head.” Ojore’s big palm fanned across her scalp, the feeling languid.

“Is that why the other girl called you a witch?” he asked. He’d overheard her conversation with Mmbone the night he kidnapped her from Mukuru.

“You call me a witch, too.” She stiffened in his arms.

“That is because the first time I saw you, you cast a spell on me.” He shifted until she looked up at him. “How else could you occupy my every thought and haunt my dreams every time I close my eyes?”

Sholei forgot how to breathe as time stood still. Her whole being etched in every word spoken. “As beasts attack your dreams, you, Sholei, attack my whole being.”

Ojore cupped her face and lowered his mouth to hers. Sholei did not think, only reacted when his lips covered hers in a fervent kiss. His lips were soft as they moved against hers. When his tongue skimmed over her lower lip, Sholei stiffened in his embrace and released a small gasp. Ojore took advantage of her parted lips and plunged his tongue into her mouth as his arms drew her closer. Sholei wrapped her arms around his middle and melted, boneless, against his body. She sank into his warmth as he lowered her onto the makeshift bed .

Ojore groaned as his lips trailed kisses from her mouth to her neck. She panted as desire swept through her body and pooled in her pelvis. The sensations became too much when Ojore’s strong fingers skimmed underneath her shirt and danced close to her heaving breasts. With a ragged breath, Sholei sat up and straightened her clothes. Ojore let her go, his breathing labored, too.

Sholei avoided his eyes as she tried to understand what happened. The extent of her emotions left her trembling. Ojore must have thought she was cold as he placed a cloak around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” He cleared his voice. Sholei nodded didn’t trust her voice. Did she just kiss Ojore? Sholei traced a finger on her lips where his searing touch had been a few moments before.

Why did his kiss feel familiar when it was her first?

They grew quiet for a short while, each consumed by their thoughts before Ojore reached out and pulled a small armlet from his waist pouch.

“Is this the armlet you were talking about?” he chuckled at her bewildered expression.

”Where did you get it?” Sholei blinked as she tried to reach for it, but he pulled back.

“I had to get a souvenir, to make sure you were real and not a figment of my imagination. Besides, you took my army insignia, too. Who knew you were such a heavy sleeper? It wasn’t easy to get this off you.” He laughed at her face as her eyes grew wide with recognition. What Ojore didn’t know was that night, Sholei had the most restful sleep in her life .

“I was tired from collecting herbs and healing a stubborn patient. Through the night, you kept breaking out in a fever. I was up half that night watching over you.” Sholei recalled that night as if it were yesterday. Her first encounter with Ojore was very memorable. If she hadn’t encountered him that night, would her life have turned out differently?

”If this is the link to your origins, I will help you trace your birth parents.” He tucked the armlet into his pouch.

“Can you do that?” Her voice came out fractured, afraid to ask. To hope. Musembi had always dismissed her whenever Sholei brought up the question of her parents.

“I have resources I can put to use.” He nodded, and to her surprise, she trusted his words.

“I would do anything for you.” Ojore took her hands in his and folded her fingers in his.

That was how they spent the evening. Ojore told her stories from the northern kingdom, where he traveled with the trade caravans to the desert tribes. He met different people from all over the continent. He talked of lands with men who rode camels and had long, curly dark hair. He had reached the Bahri Ocean, where the deep waters reflected the colors of the skies.

“Bahri Ocean stretches as far as the eyes can reach,” he said as he explained it. “Pirates plague it, but Hodari Trading Post has an agreement with them, and they never attack our ships.”

“Sea pirates?” Sholei’s imagination ran wild. Living deep in the grasslands, the stories of the distant lands felt like more of a myth. “Are they dangerous?” would she encounter them on the journey to the Faye islands? Maybe it was a good idea to let Ojore accompany her.

“With me accompanying you, you’ll get to the Academy in one piece,” Ojore read her mind.

He included her in his plans as if she’d accepted his proposal. Sholei wondered if she had a choice in the matter.

He talked about how they would visit his grandfather’s home inside the largest trading post in the Dembe capital, Hodari Trading Post. From his stories, Sholei discovered he was a man with worldly experience. If he weren’t tied down as the general of the Dembe Southern Army, he would be traversing other kingdoms, trading, and socializing. He belonged to that life and yearned to return to his childhood’s simple life.

She could listen to him talk the whole night. The stoic general of Dembe’s southern army was an avid storyteller. His low drawl captivated her.

The night was warm, and a full moon brightened the sky. The absence of fire enabled them to watch the stars that graced the skies. Stargazing with Ojore was different and even more intimate. They spent the night trying to count them. A futile attempt. There were too many.

Sholei didn’t know when she fell asleep while she listened to the drawl of his voice. He held her the entire night, and that night, she dreamed of swimming deep in the Bahri Ocean with Ojore and flying high enough to touch the stars.

No black snake intruded on her sleep.