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I t took Sholei seconds to realize where she was and who stood before her. With a start, she sat up. The heavy cloak around her shoulder fell to her lap. How did she get to his bed? She threw him a suspicious glance, she wondered how he was able to walk with such extensive injuries. He was supposed to be unconscious for her to get patrol guards and inform them of her findings. What would happen to the prize money she had dreamt of collecting? Were her dreams to attend the Academy dead?

“Your touch brought me back to life,” the man said in a low, gravelly voice, and Sholei blinked at him.

He tied his hair back and exposed a handsome face. His features were sharp as if cut from stone. His eyes were deep and brown. She must have imagined them the color of flames. His eyes were encircled by long and thick lashes. He had a long nose and a broad base, somewhat crooked as if he had been in too many fights. Looking at his wide lips, Sholei’s throat dried.

“You owe me for my service.” Sholei swallowed hard and the man’s eyes dropped to her lips.

“How much will you charge for the treatment?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.

“What is the cost of saving your life?” Sholei asked, her mind raced as she tried to find a way to escape. She hadn’t forgotten how he had threatened her with a knife the previous day.

“How about a whole kingdom?” At his answer, her pulse picked up. “You went through my belongings. You must know who I am.”

“Guards patrol this area in the morning. Leave now if you don’t want to be caught,” Sholei said, and got up nonchalantly. Maybe if she pretended it wasn’t a big deal, he would let it go and leave. Beneath her clothes, she felt the weight of his emblem. She wondered if it would be enough to convince the patrol guards of his presence.

“You’ve seen me. I can’t pretend otherwise and let you go,” he said in a deceptively calm voice and pushed her back on the bedding with a hand on her shoulder. Sholei’s skin broke into sweat as she tried to keep control of her panic. He would take advantage of her if she showed him how anxious she was.

“Is this how you treat the person who healed your injuries? I won’t ask for payment. Take it as free treatment and leave.”

“Aren’t you the generous one?” The man’s lips peeled back in laughter, and Sholei’s eyes were drawn to his cold smile. He might be laughing, but the mirth didn’t reach his eyes.

“What do you want from me?” Sholei’s eyes flashed. She should have left when she had a chance. Her hands curled into fists.

“What did you use on my wound? A wound like that shouldn’t have healed overnight. Are you a witch?” he asked. His eyes roamed her head.

“I am not a witch. I practice medicine.” Sholei touched her head and discovered her scarf missing. The man had seen her tattoos, her biggest secret and shame exposed before a stranger. Sholei couldn’t keep calm anymore and pushed the man’s hand away as she tried to get up.

“You brought a dead man back to life.” He leaned back in, his eyes pinning her down.

“You should be thankful I didn’t leave you here to be devoured by beasts. Or a vicious bird ,” Sholei finished in a tight voice. The man narrowed his eyes at her.

“Killing you will eliminate the threat of you setting your guards on me.” The man’s voice hardened. The man was right about one thing: her first stop was the patrol guards at the forest entrance if she got away. She would report him and take the chance to get the prize money for all the trouble he put her through.

“The rumors about the Dembe are right. You have no sense of decency or gratitude.”

”If you know I’m a Dembe soldier, you know we don’t take hostages.” He reached for his waist and revealed a dagger with a golden hilt, the same weapon he had pressed to her neck the previous day .

As he spoke, Sholei gathered loose dust in her hand.

“Mukuru Kingdom will hunt you down if something happens to me,” she lied as the sharp edge of the blade in his hands glinted in the light. Truthfully, no one would care about her disappearance. Sholei grew angrier.

“Do you know how many men have said the same words to me?” he smirked.

“Going by your attitude, I am sure it’s a lot.” Sholei wanted to wipe that smirk from his lips.

“Men drawing their last breath curse me all the time.” His voice turned flat, his face passive. Sholei couldn’t deny the haunted look in his gaze.

“As a soldier of the Dembe army, the curses are well deserved,” Sholei blurted out again. She tried again to rise, but he pressed a knife to her neck.

The Dembe Nation was a bunch of tyrants who knew nothing but war and conflict. Their previous king started an expansionist campaign years ago and brought several kingdoms under them. According to the men she treated, the Dembe court set its sights on the southern kingdoms, with Mukuru and its four cities being their most recent target.

“Apart from my insignia, what else gave me away?” He leaned close.

“Why would I tell you that?”

“Indulge me.” He pressed the knife closer, his warm breath fanned her face.

“The dark horse.” With his distinctive accent and the military-issued boots, she should have connected the unique beast to the Dembe earlier. Horses weren’t native to the plains and were imported from the far desert cities where they were bred by pastoral communities. Since Dembe Kingdom bordered the deserts, they had easy access to the beasts. Farther south, horses were only used by the wealthy and the army.

After traveling to the Keseve Market, she learned to distinguish different accents. Traders from the northern kingdoms’ accents weren’t distinct from those of the south. Kingdoms in the plains were once joined with those in the mountains, but decades ago, after the war between the gods, they fractured and formed smaller ones. The people spoke the same language and practiced similar traditions but with different accents.

Keseve Market was in a deep valley, dividing the northern kingdoms from the south.

“Why tend to my wounds? You must have known what my presence would mean for your kingdom.” His eyes narrowed again.

Sholei fumed at his question. She had toiled the night away to heal his wounds, and in turn, she received a dagger drawn on her neck.

The horse neighed, and for a split second, the man cocked his head halfway, concerned for his steed. Sholei took the chance to knock into his chin with her forehead, the same move she pulled the day before. She figured if it worked once, it might work again. The man grunted and moved back, and he stood to his full height.Sholei was not short, but the man was a head taller than her.

She ignored the sting on her head and aimed for his midsection. She ignored how her robes rose to her thigh. He caught her leg before it kicked him, a villainous smile stretched on his lips. His quick reflex surprised her. He had barely healed from his wounds.

“You are not to be underestimated, witch.” He chuckled and pulled her closer, his warm breath grazing her ears. Her back to his front, he firmly gripped her midsection, and his steely arms caged her to his chest. Her legs flailed like a fish out of water.

Sholei’s life flashed before her eyes. This couldn’t be her end—dead in the wild, never to accomplish her dreams. She couldn’t attend the Imperial Physicians’ school. The more she thought about it, the more panic rose inside her and caused her to fight with all her might. She kicked, screamed, scratched, bit, and hit any part of him she could reach, but it was futile. What she was doing was equal to fighting a boulder. Unyielding. All that it did was make her aware of his muscular body.

The more she fought, the tighter his hold grew. He didn’t seem to use any effort to restrain her. Like iron rods, his arms confined and held her in place.

“Enough,” he growled in her ear, and her blood ran cold. “Keep fighting like that, and I will indeed kill you. You tended to my wounds, and I will be kind enough to let you go.”

He turned her around to face him as his fingers dug into her shoulders. “Remember, you didn’t see me or my horse. Yesterday didn’t happen. If you whisper a word to anyone, I will come for you, and I won’t let you live.” He released her, and she stumbled to the ground.

Sholei shook from head to toe as she watched his tall frame walk to his horse and mount it in one clean move. The murderous eagle screeched, spread its wings, and soared into the sky.

”If the stars wish it, we shall meet again, witch.” the soldier said, as his horse galloped into the dense forest, leaving the same way he had appeared.

Sholei didn’t look back and dashed to the capital. She tumbled over overgrown roots and ran into trees several times. She wanted to reach the patrol guards fast before he got far.

A couple of hours later, she reached the city gates. She passed people on her way who threw her glances but didn’t approach—a normal reaction from them. Sholei was used to being invisible to the people of Mukuru. But without her scarf, her tattoos attracted attention. Combined with her disheveled look, she was sure the talk wouldn’t die down anytime soon.She only interacted with the residents when they fell sick and visited the medicine yard. And those were the poor ones who didn’t have the budget to consult Imperial Physicians. It was ironic how they became friendly when they were sick.

She usually enjoyed the view of the city, but not that day. From a hilltop, Mukuru City appeared to rise from earth. Sky-high clay brick walls fortified the large city and protected the inhabitants within. Four gates guarded the place, each entrance representing the four main gods venerated in the kingdom. The hawk-eyed, well-armed capital guards patrolled the walls. They watched over the wide streets and solved disputes amongst the congested streets. People milled around oblivious of the threat outside the tall walls.

Her eyes skimmed the armed men, Sholei hoped to spot Prince Gane, their leader, but she couldn’t see him. If she could get the message about the Dembe soldier to Prince Gane, he was more likely to believe her and act faster than his subordinates. Since she couldn’t trace him, she stopped before one guard to report but words failed her when his eyes landed on her head and her tattoos.

In her hurry, she’d forgotten her scarf, and her tattoos were exposed.

“Keep it moving, witch.” He waved his sword in her face.

“I have to report…” she tried to say as she fumbled to remove the Dembe insignia, but she was pushed back with a rough hand. Sholei lost her footing and fell to the ground. She hit the towering monument in the middle of the street. Passersby turned to look at her.

Sholei raised her eyes and came face to face with the dark, hypnotizing eyes of Asaa, carved on the statue in the middle of the busiest street in the capital. Asaa was depicted as a long and winding snake with green eyes in a fight with High Lord Keita, the sky god of the north, represented by a large black eagle. Keita’s long talons dug into Asaa’s glossy skin as the snake’s long fangs sank into the eagle’s exposed neck. Keita and Asaa were locked in an eternal fight.

Every time Sholei came across the monument, she couldn’t look away. The eerie eyes of Asaa haunted her in her dreams, so much so that Sholei tried to avoid the street altogether. Musembi, her mentor, warned Sholei against the road more than once.Sholei was to avoid the statues of Lord Keita and Asaa at all costs.

“Asaa ,” the snarly voice that followed Sholei in her dreams whispered. Sholei screamed and clutched her head. Her knees hit the dusty ground and her head throbbed. Just as the pain came, it vanished, and Sholei became aware she knelt in the middle of a street with a crowd surrounding her.

“Look at the marks on her head.”

“She’s a witch!”

“Where is her scarf? She shouldn’t be walking around like that.”

People pointed fingers, and Sholei wished the ground would open and swallow her. She pushed back the self-pity threatening to drown her. She rose, dusted her gown, and walked away. Her head high, she ignored the people, and they parted to let her pass. She walked away from the spiteful remarks and looks, away from Asaa’s captivating pull.

Always keep your head high. You have done nothing wrong. Musembi’s mantra propelled her away from the busy streets until she reached the quiet road to the medicine yard.

She arrived at the yard and opened the old, rickety wooden gate. The compound was comprised of long, wide, clay-baked houses. Patients who visited and could not make it back to their homes stayed inside. A smaller house, Musembi’s and Sholei’s private quarters stood behind the main hall. Huge trees and clay fortifications surrounded the place, offeringshade from the sweltering heat .

Much like the other houses in Mukuru Kingdom, the people of the capital built their homesteads with courtyards. The royals and court officials had elaborate houses outside the palace.

“Sholei!” Musembi’s boisterous voice startled her. Sholei’s mentor stood beside a raised wooden stand used to dry herbs. Sholei hoped her mentor would be passed out drunk and wouldn’t realize that Sholei spent the entire night out.

“Where have you been?” Musembi asked, hands on her hips. She pinned Sholei with an accusing look. Her long hair was plaited in neat rows that stretched to her shoulders. Sholei wished she had such hair instead of a bald head.

“I was out foraging for herbs.” Sholei approached her mentor, who narrowed her eyes with suspicion. Musembi was a short curvy middle-aged woman who had never married or bore children. Sholei knew from a young age Musembi wasn’t her mother. The older woman didn’t pretend to be a parent. She told Sholei she was picked from the forest when Musembi went out to forage for herbs.

“Where is your scarf?” Musembi pointed at Sholei’s head. Her mentor whipped out a similar scarf and wrapped it around Sholei’s head. Musembi always kept one on her as a spare.

“What do these tattoos mean?” Sholei asked the question she asked many times before without answers. She shoved Musembi’s hands away as her mentor tried to tie the new scarf on her head. The cotton material was rough against her smooth skin. Years had passed, but Sholei never got used to the texture of the fabric on her head .

“Stand still.” Musembi grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her closer. “This isn’t the time for you to be stubborn.”

From an early age, Musembi forbade her to lose her scarf. The only time she could remove it was while bathing or sleeping. Few people saw her tattoos up close, excluding the Dembe soldier. Recalling her near-death experience, Sholei grew angry again.

Sholei grabbed the scarf and threw it down. “What do these marks mean?” She pointed to her head. “Why do they hurt? Where did I come from? Will you please answer me for once?” She was determined to find answers. Her humiliation in the capital burned deep. She couldn’t continue living without knowing her origins.

“What has come over you?” Musembi glared at Sholei, her gaze flittering between the scarf and Sholei’s frown. “Where were you last night? Did something happen?”

“I am no longer a child, Musembi. I deserve to know the truth,” Sholei said, her gaze searched her mentor’s face.

“You should stop behaving as one,” Musembi replied, tense. “Nothing good will come from being reckless and exposing your marks.”

“Why should I hide something I was born with if you’re not telling me the truth? Why do they hurt every time I pass the statue of Asaa?”

“You went to Mfangano Street?” Musembi stepped closer. “Was your head exposed? Did you get a headache? Have you been drinking the potion I gave you?” When Sholei didn’t answer, Musembi grabbed her again.

“What are you doing?” Sholei panicked. For several days, she had stopped taking the medicine Musembi prescribed for her.

“Teaching you a lesson.” Musembi grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the main hall, where they received patients. The wide room was decorated with a few furnishings, including an old wide table where they prepared medicine. The walls were covered with bags and baskets full of dried herbs, tree bark, plants, and various flowers. A citrus scent hung in the air.

When Musembi reached for a bottle and flicked the lid, the familiar sour smell of the potion hit Sholei’s nose. Sholei struggled against her mentor, and in the process, she knocked the flask down. The colorless liquid spilled on the stone floor.

Musembi slapped her.

Sholei touched her cheek in disbelief. Musembi had never laid her hands on Sholei before, no matter how much they quarreled.

“Sholei, I’m…” Musembi’s face twisted in horror as she gazed at her hand as if it acted on its own accord. She stepped forward but stopped when Sholei stepped back, away from her.

“Are you going to say it’s for my benefit too?” Sholei gritted her teeth.

“You may not understand why I am doing all this, but it’s for your good.” Musembi lowered her voice.

“I don’t think so,” Sholei whispered and dropped her hand from her cheek.

“We are leaving for the palace this afternoon. Remember to prepare early.” Musembi’s voice turned passive, and Sholei knew she wouldn’t get the answers she sought—at least not that day. Musembi would shut her down.

“Are you listening to me?” Musembi asked when Sholei didn’t answer. “Prince Gane needs his medicine. His wound might be healed, but he hasn’t recovered his strength.”

Sholei had almost forgotten the reason for going to the forest the previous day. It was to search for a special herb needed to prepare a healing tonic—one that would strengthen a weak patient. The unique flower could only be found deep in the forests.

Prince Gane was the fourth prince of the Mukuru Kingdom. Sholei had tended to his wounds, sustained by bandits that plagued the capital in the recent attacks. His wounds looked more self-inflicted, but Sholei didn’t question him. It was already suspicious that Queen Kajala had sought the services of Musembi rather than calling for the Imperial Physicians. Sholei spent several days in the palace and attended to his injury. The pay was good, and even though Musembi was a tyrant, she always gave Sholei her share after attending to a patient. Sholei’s savings grew in recent years as her reputation in the medicine hall grew. With the prize money, she would leave the capital immediately.

“Remember to watch your actions around Prince Gane. Don’t spend too much time in his court.” Musembi warned. “I still don’t understand why the queen asked for me. Something is wrong with this whole situation.”

Prince Gane’s wound was strange. The spear that had been used to stab him was laced with a unique poison that Sholei identified as one common among bandits. However, the weapon that injured him was a common spear issued by the Mukuru army. It wouldn’t take long before the Royal Physicians in the palace figured out that fact and reported the findings to the court. Musembi wasn’t one to question the inconsistencies in the prince’s story, and Sholei didn’t care so long as she got paid.

“Have you finished preparing the tonic?” Musembi’s voice brought her back to the present. “Don’t mention to anyone that Prince Gane was poisoned or what type of weapon hurt him. We don’t want to get involved in inner court politics more than we already are.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have enough problems. I don’t need to deal with others,” Sholei said as she walked away from the hall.

Prince Ojore, General of Dembe’s southern army, returned to the military camp at dusk. He passed through the barricaded gates and the hundreds of tents that housed his soldiers. He headed straight to his quarters and met Akima, his second-in-command, and a close friend. Akima was a head taller than Ojore with midnight dark skin. He kept his hair short with a single dreadlock wrapped with a white cowrie shell.

“My lord, you have returned.” Akima held onto Radi’s reigns. The horse neighed and leaned to his side. “I almost sent a search party when you didn’t return yesterday.”

“Get someone to attend to Radi. We have been riding for a long time.” Ojore patted the horse’s dark nose and turned to Akima.

It was almost nighttime, but the camp was rife with activities. Since the Dembe were gearing up for war, Ojore had intensified their training schedule. Heplanned to invade the Keseve Market in a fortnight, a strategic course to expand Dembe kingdom borders and get access to Lake Alokove in the south. The market was lucrative and attracted traders from all over the region. It was also the gateway to the southern region and would soon be an extension of Dembe.

The military camp was located north of the Keseve Market, at the southernmost point of the Dembe Kingdom. Laid on the vast plains, it housed hundreds of soldiers. Their presence brought tension throughout Mukuru Kingdom in the south—Ojore’s target.

While he scouted the market and its environs, an assassin shot him with a poisoned arrow. Ojore didn’t have a chance to stop his assailant, but the attack didn’t come as a surprise. Over the years, he had accumulated enemies all over the region. He’d passed out, and when he came to, a woman with wide eyes hovered near him and Radi. A witch from the Mukuru Kingdom. He smiled and recalled her defiant stance when he tried to question her that morning.

“You are injured!” Akima exclaimed at the sight of a white bandage that peeked through Ojore’s robes. “Let’s get Litonde to check on you.”

“Forget it. I have long healed.” Ojore flexed his arm. Whatever the woman had used on him worked like magic. Ojore was convinced she must have used more than herbal medicine. As a prince and general, he had the most capable physicians tend to him, but none matched the skill of the mysterious woman.

“You left to scout the Keseve Market a day ago and returned with a healed wound. What happened?” Akima raised one thick eyebrow at Ojore.

Ojore glanced at the tall man he called his best friend. They had both joined the army young, Ojore running from certain death. Akima, an orphan with limited resources, found the army one of the easiest ways to survive the harsh streets of Dembe.

”Let’s talk inside.” He led Akima inside the wooden structure set up to house the general.

The room was radiant, lit by bright lanterns across the dark wooden walls. Various battle weapons adorned the room: war armor, arrows, bows, clubs, spears, darts, shields, swords, and other military gear. A wooden table surrounded by stools sat at the center. A miniature clay structure lay on the table, the map depicted a rough copy of the land with every mountain, hill, river, and several kingdoms. On the opposite side, a door led to Ojore’s private quarters. He didn’t have many personal items apart from bedding and clothes.

“Look at this arrow. Do you recognize it?” Ojore tossed the arrowhead from his waist pouch to Akima.

Akima walked toward the fire pit at the center of the room for better lighting. “It’s not from our arsenal, that’s for sure, but give me time. I will figure it out. Someone shot you with this?” He raised an eyebrow at Ojore.

Ojore nodded and paced before the fire, his hands folded behind his back, deep in thought. He held a small bracelet he had snatched from the physician earlier that morning when she tried to get away. The trinket was strange, with markings he couldn’t decipher, just like the tattoos on her head. The mystery around her intrigued him, and Ojore wanted to unravel each one of them.

“How did your wound heal so fast?” Akima looked at his leader and twisted the arrowhead in his hand.

“I had a bit of help.” Ojore smiled but didn’t elaborate. As a leader of the army, he rarely voiced his thoughts, and Akima knew when to stop pressing. Ojore trusted Akima more than his estranged family, but he wasn’t ready to share his discovery with him—at least not yet.

“You had a rough journey. How about a rest, and we’ll continue tomorrow?” Akima said.

“I feel more energized than I have in a long time. I don’t need rest.” Ojore splashed water on his face and ran his hands through his long locks then secured them on top of his head with a black band. “King Gusiwaju plans to meet with generals from its four cities. They are allying to counter our capture of the Keseve Market.”

“That will be a problem.” Akima furrowed his brow and passed Ojore a cloth for his face.

“Having them band together will make it easier for us to take them down.” Ojore rubbed the small towel on his face, washing away the sweat and grime of a long ride.

“The four cities will combine their efforts and resources. Who is going to lead the alliance?” Akima asked with a deep frown.

“Prince Gane of Mukuru is the brain behind the coalition.” Ojore walked toward the table and pored over the map. “He has experience fighting the cattle rustlers who plague his capital. ”

“We are far better than mere rustlers,” Akima scoffed and sat opposite Ojore. “Any other person we have to watch out for?”

“Don’t underestimate a band of tyrants who steal away thousands of cattle in a single night.” Ojore frowned at the map and folded his hands across his chest. “Apart from Gane, we must watch out for generals from Etago, Iranda, and Suneka. They are older and more experienced in war. Prince Gane is young and is eager to make a name for himself.”

“We must plan and attend the alliance meeting. Let’s consult with all our generals tomorrow morning to plan our next move.” Ojore didn’t raise his eyes from the map on the desk.

“Will we be meeting the mysterious physician who tended to you?” Akima fished for more information from Ojore, who flashed him a crooked smile.

“Her talents would be appreciated in Dembe.” He leaned back and crossed his arms.

”A woman? Are you planning on recruiting her?”Akima’s eyes grew wide as he pulled a seat closer to Ojore.

Ojore’s life revolved around protecting the ever-expanding borders of Dembe with little mention of women. He turned down countless requests from the Dembe Court to get married and settle down.

“She must have been extraordinary to capture your attention,”Akima went on.

“More like a wildcat.” A faraway gaze swept Ojore’s eyes. “When Mukuru falls, all its people will become Dembe residents. She will be no different. We’ll follow the procedure for recruiting all our talent.”

“We rarely take in women,” Akima pressed to get more information.

“She’s already proved her talents. Besides, it’s about time we focus on women too,” Ojore said as he stood. “One of the reasons we are expanding our borders is to equip the empire with the best skills, from artisans to soldiers. Expertise like hers will benefit many people, and whether a man or woman offers it doesn’t matter.”

Akima narrowed his eyes at his friend. Ojore knew that look well. His friend didn’t believe in the motivations behind her recruitment, but Ojore wasn’t going to satisfy him with an answer. Ojore stretched his hands and feigned tiredness.

“How about you get Litonde to come check on my wounds?”

Akima scoffed. “Whatever you say, general.” Akima stood and left the tent.

Sholei fastened her medicine bag on the donkey in the medicine yard. The animal was more stubborn than it was worth but served its purpose. The medicine bag was old and torn around the edges, but it would have to do. She’d left her newer one deep in the forest after she ran for her life. It was her favorite, and she’d recently bought it from the Keseve Market with her meager savings. She lost her bracelet in the chaos. It was the only item that connected her to her mysterious background. Sholei frowned as she recalled her experience earlier in the day. She couldn’t wait to meet Prince Gane and share her findings.

“Once you are done sulking, we have to leave,” Musembi called out from the rickety gate, their earlier argument forgotten.

“Typical,” Sholei whispered under her breath. Musembi swept things under the rug. If not for the ache on her cheek, Sholei might’ve forgotten about it, too.

“I don’t want us to be late for our appointment. The king has been in a bad mood recently because of the tensions in the Keseve Market.”

Sholei was weary. The activities of the day had exhausted her. First, an ungrateful Dembe soldier threatened her life after she healed him. Then, the whole fiasco in the streets under the Lord Keita monument and her argument with Musembi. The quick bath she took did little to soothe her tired muscles. After warm food, she felt lethargic and in much need of sleep. Her only motivation was the chance to speak to Prince Gane.

Musembi instructed another student to take charge of the yard. Musembi avoided house visits, but no one in their right mind ignored Queen Kajala’s summons. She was the mother of their nation, and her son, the prince, who was most likely next in line for the throne, was hurt.

The journey to the palace took an hour. Since the medicine yard was at the edge of the capital, they had to walk a considerable distance. Add to this the ornery nature of the donkey, their only means of transport, and the journey was twice as long .

Narrow paths merged into larger streets, and they passed merchants. They avoided any street where High Lord Keita’s monument was erected.

It was the afternoon, and the sun beat down on them. They passed several people who gave them a wide berth. Musembi appeared unfazed as she walked with her head high, and her favorite walking stick clicked against the ground. Musembi ditched her everyday cotton dress and chose a black silk one. The expensive material was bought from the Keseve Market during their last trip. The silk covered her from her shoulders to her toes. A leather belt wrapped around her waist, and beaded sandals covered her feet.

“After this trip, we won’t have to associate ourselves with the royals anymore,” Musembi commented as she adjusted her walking stick from one hand to another. Sholei knew she didn’t need it; her back was still strong. Musembi used it more like a fashion statement since senior Imperial Physicians in the capital loved them.

“It wouldn’t hurt to be in good with the royals. They pay more per visit than we normally make in weeks.” Sholei pulled the donkey’s reins. It stopped to eat grass on the roadside. “With extra money, we could purchase a more reliable horse and let the donkey rest.”

“Getting involved with Queen Kajala and her son isn’t a good idea. A lot happens behind the closed gates of Mukuru Court. It’s better to stay away.” Musembi said in a low tone, careful of the passing people.

She dangled some fruit from her bag before the animal. It brayed and nibbled on the long stalk and moved again. Musembi was fond of the stubborn beast and treated it better than Sholei. At times, Sholei was jealous of the animal’s attention from her mentor.

“Money and wealth aren’t everything, Sholei. You would best remember that.” Musembi held Sholei’s gaze.

Sholei didn’t say anything even though she wanted to refute Musembi’s statement. Imperial Physicians in the capital were revered, and their status was high. They got to live in beautiful courtyards, and they didn’t have to forage for herbs in the forest—they had someone else do it for them.

“Saving a life is rewarding, too,” Musembi said, and Sholei scoffed. If only Musembi knew what she had undergone earlier that day, she would change the tune of her chant. Sholei had saved a life, and she nearly lost hers for the effort.

“There is no dignity in poverty. We can get what we deserve if we want it,” Sholei mumbled.

With her skills, Sholei was sure she could join the Imperial Physicians’ Academy and improve their lives, but Musembi would hear none of it. For the past two years, since she had come of age to try for the exams to join the Royal Physicians, Musembi found excuses for her not to go for the tryouts. Sholei went ahead and collected funds to enable herself to secure a passage to the distant Faye Islands.

“Sholei…” Musembi started but stopped when a court messenger from the palace appeared before their path. The palace attendant stopped them in the busy street. Everyone around turned to them.

A fashionable fan in hand, the messenger was dressed in a long white robe. A heavy leather belt on his waist was covered in cowrie shells—the more shells, the higher the status. He wore a broad white straw hat. Behind him, two palace guards stood, their keen eyes trained on them. Musembi took a protective step before Sholei.

“Musembi, daughter of the Ulele Clan, the great King Gusiwaju of Mukuru invites you to attend a meeting with the elders,” the messenger said after the customary greeting. Both Sholei and Musembi bowed.

“I’m invited?”On hearing the summons, Musembi raised her head. Women rarely attended court meetings, except for the queen, who graced the court on special occasions. Sholei thought it was a surprise for a no-name physician to join.

“All the elders are present. They are waiting for you,” the messenger said and waved his fan. “Please follow me.” He turned and walked in the direction of the palace. “Your apprentice will have to tend to the prince alone,” he added, without turning back.

“I accept the king’s invitation.” Musembi gave Sholei a gaze that told her not to fool around.

The palace compound was vast and stretched across the open plains, surrounded by tall clay-structured walls with arched tops. They stretched up to the sky and were painted in red and orange bas-reliefs. Elaborate art depicted the people’s history in Mukuru. Motifs of kings and nobles and their contributions to the kingdom were erected, too.

Sholei wondered what it took for one’s face to appear on the fortifications.The recent additions were Prince Gane and his victory against the vicious bandits .

Well-trained guards secured the four main gates. Made of cast iron and wood, the heavy doors led into the palace. They were decorated with patterns and motifs carved into the wood. Before Sholei and Musembi entered, they were checked and their bags were searched. The first time Sholei visited the palace, she was surprised by the level of security at the entrance. Mukuru Kingdom was the strongest among their neighbors. Bilateral talks, intermarriages, sports, and trading between its cities enabled them to maintain a peaceful atmosphere in the region.

Inside the gate stood the golden statue of the sky god Keita perched on a tall monument. It stood with its wings extended, and its golden gaze bore into her. Similar statues adorned the palace, and Musembi once said King Gusiwaju was somewhat fanatic about the Northern sky god. He worshiped it and invoked its name in everything he did.

“Asaa ,” the snarling voice from earlier whispered, and Sholei grabbed her head and stifled a groan as pain pounded between her ears.Where did the headache come from? They weren’t anywhere near the statue of Asaa.

“Sholei,” Musembi’s panicked voice sounded muffled against the rush of blood in Sholei’s ears. The smell of the medicine she spilled earlier hit her nose before she felt its taste down her throat. She stifled the urge to gag at the sour, familiar taste. No matter how long she took it, Sholei couldn’t get used to the awful flavor.

The pounding stopped, and Sholei opened her eyes to Musembi’s troubled look, an empty bottle in her hand. She fell into the arms of her mentor, and Musembi gave her the sour tonic. The palace messenger leaned behind Musembi’s shoulder, and peered down at her, his gaze curious.

Great, more rumors about me will spread . In the palace of all places , Sholei thought. Could that day get any worse?

“Sholei…” Musembi snapped her fingers before her face. “Rush to Prince Gane’s residence. Once you’re done, go back to the yard.” Through the fog in her head, she heard Musembi’s urgent voice. “Don’t wander around.”

As the court servant led Musembi away to the court, a female servant from the prince’s residence approached her. The young girl, dressed in light blue cotton robes, bowed before Sholei and helped her with her bag.

“If you follow me, I will take you to meet Prince Gane.”

Before she left, Sholei looked over her shoulder at Lord Keita’s statue and wondered how an ornate object’s piercing gaze was connected to her splitting headaches.