Chapter 63: Soltair
I passed the rest of the banquet on the stand, trying not to associate with anyone. The heroes wandered about, returning frequently for more wine or a brief reprieve from the intense social climate, but soon departed again. Occasionally, someone approached and engage me in conversation, but it soon became apparent I was only an object of curiosity, and soon forgotten.
As the night wound down, Soltair returned, collapsing in the seat next to me. Although he carried himself well, his collar was moist with sweat and I could see a slight slump in his shoulders.
A few minutes later, the Pope rose and gave some final words, thanking the attendees and formally beginning the festival. There were cheers, claps, and some final toasts, and then guests began to file away. I shivered as more than a few guests clung to whatever maid happened to take their fancy, no doubt intending to take the celebration to their bed chambers.
Soltair regained his feet and offered his hand. I gave a small wave to Korra before accepting it, allowing the Sun Hero to raise me to my feet. His hand was clammy and cold, and there were subtle hints of anxiety buried deep within his tone.
"Shall we go?"
I nodded, allowing him to lead me by the arm again. Although I permitted the gentlemanly gesture, I couldn’t bring myself to stand too near to him, keeping far enough apart our bodies wouldn’t accidentally brush against each other. If he noticed he gave no reaction, and we returned to the slave quarters in quick order.
Once we arrived outside my door, Soltair sighed, pausing for a moment before opening it. "Xiviyah, a word?"
"As you wish," I said, giving him a slight curtsy before entering the room.
He stiffened at my subservient tone and a shadow crossed his face as he followed me in. The door shut with finality, plunging us into an awkward silence. I sat on the bed, folding my arms and staring at him.