The ceiling above him was a blur of white and gold. For a moment, Khisa thought he was still dreaming, drifting between the edge of life and something beyond. But as the dull ache in his side throbbed, he realized he was very much alive.
The familiar scent of herbs, salves, and smoke from healing incense filled his lungs. He blinked slowly, his vision clearing to reveal the smooth, curved beams of the medical hall’s ceiling. It was the same room where countless soldiers had once been treated, but now, he was the one lying on the bed.
A faint hum of activity echoed beyond the door. The clinking of glass bottles, muffled voices, and the sound of sandals brushing against the polished floor.
Then the door opened.
A young healer stepped in, her arms full of herbs. She froze when her eyes met Khisa’s open gaze. The bundle of leaves slipped from her grasp, scattering across the floor.
"By the ancestors...Prince Khisa!" she gasped. "You’re awake!"
Her voice trembled between shock and joy. Without waiting for his reply, she turned and bolted out of the room, shouting, "He’s awake! The Prince is awake!"
Khisa blinked slowly, confusion still heavy in his mind. The world around him felt slower, softer.
Moments later, Dr. Amadi entered, robes half done. The healer looked exhausted, but when he saw Khisa conscious and breathing, a wide grin broke across his face.
"I am glad to see you awake, Prince Khisa," Amadi said warmly as he approached, pulling up a stool beside the bed.
Khisa tried to speak but his throat was dry. His voice came out hoarse. "Glad... to be alive," he choked out with a faint smirk.
Amadi chuckled softly and poured water into a cup, helping him sit up just enough to drink. "Your wound was very severe," he said gravely. "You almost bled out several times on the way here, from what I’ve heard. It was a miracle you made it through the first night."
Khisa closed his eyes, letting the words sink in. He remembered flashes, screams, smoke, the flash of gunfire, the cold touch of blood against his stomach. Then nothing.
"Your people were worried about you," Amadi continued gently. "You still have much to accomplish."
Khisa exhaled a slow breath and smiled weakly. "Then I suppose... we should improve our medical facilities," he muttered.
Amadi laughed, the sound full of relief. "That is my job to worry about, not yours. And yes, I’ll make sure of it. We’ve learned much from this ordeal. You rest, Prince, the kingdom still stands because of what you built."
Khisa’s lips twitched into a tired grin. "I’ll hold you to that, Doctor."
Amadi smiled and stood. "You should know, your father will be here any moment. Word of your awakening spread through the palace faster than lightning."
As if summoned by the words, the doors burst open.
Queen Nanjala rushed in first, her elegant robes flowing behind her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Behind her, King Lusweti strode in, his face hard to read, caught between the composure of a ruler and the relief of a father.
"My son," the Queen breathed, hurrying to his side. "By the spirits, my son..."
Khisa barely had time to speak before she took his hand, pressing it to her forehead. Her tears fell freely, dotting his palm.
"I’m alright, Mother," he whispered. "Just... a scratch."
"A scratch?" she snapped softly through her tears. "You nearly died, Khisa. Do not joke about that."
Lusweti stood silently beside her, watching his son with proud, weary eyes. When Khisa met his gaze, the two exchanged a quiet nod, the kind only family and soldiers could understand.
Khisa swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Does Azenet know?"
Lusweti exhaled through his nose. "I sent word. Through the fastest channels. She will know soon, if she doesn’t already."
Khisa closed his eyes, a faint warmth touching his face at the mention of her name. For a moment, the ache in his side faded, replaced by the memory of her laughter.
The Queen refused to leave his side, fussing over him, adjusting his blanket, touching his forehead, scolding Amadi for not feeding him enough, asking if he was cold, if he was in pain, if he wanted the windows opened.
Amadi finally cleared his throat with exaggerated patience. "Your Majesties," he said with a polite bow, "if the patient is to recover, he needs rest. I suggest we limit excitement."
Queen Nanjala huffed but nodded reluctantly, smoothing her son’s hair one last time before standing. Lusweti gave Khisa’s shoulder a firm squeeze before they departed, the king murmuring, "You’ve done well, my son. Rest now. Nuri still needs you."
The room fell quiet again, until two familiar shadows appeared in the doorway.
Both looked battered but alive, the signs of recent battle still on their armor. When Khisa saw them, he almost smiled.
"Still walking, I see," he said weakly.
"Barely," Kiprop said with a grin. "You gave us quite the scare, Prince."
Zara stepped closer, her eyes soft but sharp as ever. "We thought we’d lost you. The healers worked day and night. Ole Samoei felt worse, he was right next to you and could not stop it. Even Faizah..." she paused, glancing at the floor. "She endured torture for the mission. She never spoke a word, not even when they broke her fingers."
Khisa’s chest tightened. "Faizah..."
Kiprop nodded grimly. "She’s alive, but scarred. She said she’d do it again if it meant keeping the mission intact."
Khisa closed his eyes, guilt pressing on his chest. "I sent all of you into danger. I should have been there."
Zara frowned. "You were there. You led us, trained us, prepared us. We survived because of that. Don’t take that away from us."
He looked at her, the defiance in her eyes, the loyalty beneath it. He smiled faintly. "Then the Shadow Guard truly lives up to its name."
Kiprop chuckled. "You built something worth dying for, Prince. But try not to give us a reason to test that again." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel·fire·net
Khisa laughed weakly, then winced at the pain in his side. "I’ll do my best. But as soon as I’m out of this bed, I’m visiting Faizah first."
Zara nodded. "She’ll like that. It’ll mean something coming from you."
Khisa leaned back against the pillow, his eyes half-lidded. The pain was dull now, manageable. The voices of his comrades were comforting, grounding him in the present.
As he drifted toward sleep again, he whispered, "How are the trade negotiations progressing?"
Kiprop groaned. "He’s dying and still thinking about politics."
Zara smirked. "You’re not dying, just resting. But the council can handle that. For once, let them. They have learned more than enough to handle this."
Khisa sighed. "If they ruin my plans, I’ll..."
"...fall asleep before you can finish that sentence," Zara interrupted with a smirk.
Khisa tried to glare, but exhaustion won. His breathing slowed, his features softened.
The two shadows watched quietly as the prince slipped into peaceful sleep, a rare sight for the man who had carried so much weight on his shoulders.
Kiprop exhaled. "He’s back. The prince of Nuri is back."
Zara looked toward the window, where moonlight spilled across the floor. "Let’s make sure his world is still standing when he wakes again."
They left the room in silence, the soft glow of the lanterns flickering behind them. Outside, the capital of Lusimba stirred with cautious joy, word spreading from hall to street, from soldier to child.
Prince Khisa had awakened.
And with him, hope itself stirred once more.