The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 56: Preparations for the Banquet

Chapter 56: Preparations for the Banquet

Soltair waited outside, accompanied by several maids. He still wore his armor, but the battle-stained steel had been polished to a gleam and a brilliant white cape hung from his pauldrons. I didn’t have to look to know the Sun God’s crest emblazoned on the back. I looked at him, waiting for him to speak, and he looked at the ground. His gauntleted hands trembled slightly, but he looked more nervous than upset.

"Oh my! Look at you," one of the maids exclaimed, pushing into the room, and I realized this one was actually a priestess, not a maid. "This won’t do at all."

Uncomfortably, I folded my arms as she did a quick circle around me, prodding me from several angles and making noises of disapproval. I faintly recognized her from somewhere, but it wasn’t until she beckoned the other maids forward that I recalled her name. Revera. The same who first cared for me and prepared the slave crest after I arrived at the Divine Throne.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my eyes not leaving Soltair.

"We’ve come to prepare you for the banquet, of course! But where did you even get this scrap of a dress? And your hair! It’s grown out so long, yet it’s more tangled than a rat’s nest." I winced as she pinched the tip of my horn. "If only you didn’t have these horrible things, it would be so beautiful."

The doting words slipped out of her lips like a waterfall, taking me by surprise. Revera had been so strict and stern before, but this was a side of her I’d never seen. Was she putting on an act for something?

"Revera," Soltair said, finally breaking his silence. His voice was soft but heavy. "Would you leave us alone for a moment?"

"Of course, my Lord," she said, motioning the maids away, "But remember we cannot afford to be late." She slipped out, casting a final look behind and shutting the door softly.

"Are you willing to talk now?" I asked when we were alone, the words sounding sharper than I intended. He sagged and moved to sit on the bed, but glanced at his armor and stopped.

"Xiviyah, I need to apologize. It’s been on my chest ever since we came back, but there hasn’t been time," he said, finally raising his head to look me in the eye. "You didn’t have to listen to Trishe, you know. You could have come with us."

He seemed serious, and I wanted to forgive him, but the words lodged in my throat. "Did you know?" I managed to whisper. "How could I have without your approval?"

"Know what? Why would you need anything from me?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused. His gaze narrowed as tears filled my eyes, and he began releasing a dangerous aura. "What happened when I was gone?"

His restrained anger shocked me, but I breathed a sigh of relief. His reaction was confirmation of his ignorance, which relaxed a burden I didn’t know I was carrying. I sat on the bed and took a deep breath, brushing away the moisture in my eyes, and began to explain the events following the duel. When I finished, he took me by the hands, his large, gauntleted fingers enclosing mine entirely. A single tear trickled down his cheek, and guilt tinged in his voice.

"I didn’t know," he said, "and yet I can’t forgive myself for my selfishness. The Pope claimed you would feel conflicted if you were to be brought to exterminate the demonkin. I believed him, and didn’t want to upset you, so we left without warning. To think he had this planned the entire time..."

"It’s okay now. You can just undo the commands," I said hopefully, feeling lighter already. I’d been waiting for this ever since the Pope gave them.

He hesitated and shook his head. "I-I don’t think I can," he said, avoiding my eyes again. "Our contract is simply a formality. It is the Pope who has directed your servitude this entire time. I can’t risk losing you," he said helplessly.

That was something we both knew, but I refused to accept it. "Soltair, look at me. Do you know what it feels like to be ordered around by the whims of anyone? I don’t care about being a slave, but I’m completely helpless right now. I someone was to attack or force themselves upon me, I’d be unable to resist. I spend every moment hoping the orders of the Pope were kept secret, but it’s starting to get out. Vorinth’s already used it against me, and...and-"

I broke off in a sob as the words spilled out. The tension and fear of the past few days came to a head, and the tears finally flowed. I flinched as Soltair embraced me, cradling me in his arms. His armor was hard and cold against my flesh, but I melted into his embrace, burying my head in his chest. We sat there for a moment, and he gently stroked my hair, whispering small comforts into my ear.

"I’m sorry," he whispered. "Just hold on a little longer. Soon, we’ll both be free and able to roam far from the Pope’s influence."

"I’ll try. But...don’t leave me again. I-I can’t do it alone."

"I promise," he said solemnly, meeting my gaze. "Though the sun should go dark, I’ll remain by your side."

We broke apart as Revera knocked at the door, entering before we answered. "My Lord, it is time."

Soltair nodded, giving my hand a final squeeze before passing through the door. "I’ll be waiting outside."

The maids brought in a large chest and closed the door behind them. As they began unloading several different outfits, Revera stripped my clothes, leaving me in only a thin slip.

"You truly have such beautiful hair," she said, running a hand through my scarlet curls. "But it’s not the only thing growing." I blushed as she sized my body up, poking and prodding to check my measurements. In the past few months, my physical body had matured. I doubted I’d ever possess the well-endowed features of Trishe, but my slender curves had begun to fill out nicely. I was on the threshold of adulthood, by the standards of the world, and was finally beginning to look the part.

"You’re going to be a beauty, but-" she began. She walked behind me, and I felt her hand run along the length of my tail. Her touch sent a wave of titillations across my skin, proving once again how sensitive my tail was. She never finished her sentence, but the unspoken words hung in the air. ’You’re a demon.’

The maids settled on a dress and began dressing me. It was similar to the dresses I used to wear, with a high skirt for my tail and a low neckline exposing the slave crest. The cloth was finely woven scarlet silk a little lighter than my hair, with dark embroidery and thigh-length stockings. Soft leather boots wrapped around my legs, feeling much more comfortable than I anticipated.

As the maids adjusted the garment, Revera procured an ivory comb and began working through my curls. I’d never paid too much attention to my hair, as no one ever saw past the horns in the first place, but the priestess was absorbed in her work. With the tangles gone, it was naturally wavy, curling in loose spirals as it reached my shoulders. After a thorough brushing, a lustrous red shone through the crimson undertones, giving my hair a sort of dramatic depth.

"Stunning," one of the maids whispered, stepping back to admire their work.

I waved my hand and used a first-circle illusion spell to create a shimmer in the air that reflected my appearance, nearly gasping as an unfamiliar face stared back. I gave a self-conscious turn, scrutinizing my appearance, but finding it flawless.

"Must I truly wear this?" I asked, feeling a wave of butterflies squirm around my stomach. I wanted to avoid drawing undue attention, but if the beautiful girl in the mirror, who I only half-accepted as being myself, would find that impossible. The dress wasn’t particularly flashy, but enhanced my natural grace and features. It drew particular attention to the slave crest, which it exposed, alongside much of my modes chest, with a plunging neckline. The harsh reds of the crest perfectly matched the dress, contrasting beautifully with the soft white of my skin.

"This isn’t some dinner in the slave quarters, you know," Revera smiled. "This is a banquet attended by Royalty and Heroes. To appear in anything less would be an insult to the host."

I nodded, sighing reluctantly. "Very well. Thank you for your help," I said, curtsying politely.

They giggled, obviously not used to such deference from a hero, but my status was technically below theirs. I was a slave, after all, and need no reminders to act the part.

"Now then, let’s not keep the Hero waiting," the elderly maid said, taking my arm and pulling me to the door.

Soltair looked up as we passed through the door, his mouth falling open. I blushed, gripping the sides of my skirt shyly as his eyes roved over my body, lingering in all the right places.

"You’re beautiful!" he said, taking his first breath for a while.

"Stop staring!" I complained, face red, but my unease lessened. Perhaps, if it was him, attention wasn’t too bad.

Revera’s cough startled both of us, and she gave us a stern look. "If you’d be so kind as to follow me," she said, gesturing down the hall.

Soltair smiled and offered me his arm. "Shall we?"

Recalling the training I received on etiquette, I slipped my arm through his and nodded. "I think I’m ready."

Together, we strolled through the halls, drawing the eyes of priests and festival-goers alike. Gone was the usual unease and hostility, replaced by shining eyes and awestruck expressions worthy of heroes. For the first time, I didn’t mind the looks, feeling my confidence boosted by the man beside me.

"Something the matter?" He asked.

"No," I replied, feeling happier than I had for some time. "I’m just glad to finally feel like a hero. Even if it’s only due to borrowed clothes."

"Xiviyah, that’s not true. You’ve always been beautiful, it’s just no one saw beneath the slave crest. I’d better keep a close eye on you, or there’ll be a line of suitors bothering you the entire banquet."

I shook my head wryly. "I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I’m still a demonkin, after all."

"It adds to your charm," he chuckled. "You look simply radiant."

His words were said with such conviction I was left speechless. "Thank you," I finally muttered, looking down shyly.

"Xiviyah, are you happy?" he asked.

The sudden change of topic caught me by surprise. "I-I don’t know. I’m not sure I know what that is." My words trailed off into silence as I seriously considered his query. "But I think so."

"I’m glad, " he said, his voice soft and relieved, "it doesn’t really matter what others think, right?"

Although everything seemed normal, his words reacted with my mana, swirling it about in paths it rarely traveled. Although something like this had only happened once before, I knew without a doubt what it meant.

"Soltair," I said nervously, turning to scan the hallway. "Is everything alright?"

His grip on me tightened, his face growing stiff. "Y-yes," he muttered, squeezing it through thin lips.

I found no comfort in his words and drew a deep breath. "I think something’s going to happen. But we’re going to be together, right?"

He nodded, looking slightly unwell. Nervous butterflies danced in my stomach, and I drew closer to him. He was obviously aware of something, yet chose not to disclose it. Did that mean he didn’t have the confidence to face it, or was he just trying to dispel my doubt? Either way, I decided to trust him. No matter the danger, there was nothing to fear as long as we stood together.