by Claudia Gray
But if the battle ahead was one for her future, then it was Leia’s battle too—whether her parents knew it or not.
I could be a courier, maybe. If I’m offworld where nobody knows I’m a princess, nobody pays any attention to me because they think I’m too young to be doing anything important. That means I could deliver critical secret messages without anybody noticing—
“Watch it!” Kier called, just as Leia slipped on her foothold. She was able to compensate in time, but hearing the rocks rattle down the mountainside beneath her was sobering. Newly alert, she took stock of her position on the ridge. Her entire pathfinding class was working on rock-climbing skills today, on the fog-shrouded planet Eriadu. Their trail led them along the outskirts of a richly forested gorge, one shadowed in moss and mists; even though Eriadu City could be seen in the far distance, they were beyond the town noise. She could hear nothing but the scrabbling of her classmates on the mountain trail, and the occasional rustling of tree branches beneath when one of the world’s large flying reptiles swooped through them, visible only as shadow.
A couple of meters away, Amilyn Holdo dangled from a climbing rope. She swung sideways toward Leia, purple hair peeking out from under her climbing helmet. “I understand the urge to explore extreme terror,” she said in her odd monotone, “but maybe this isn’t the time.”
“I got distracted.” That was as much of the truth as Leia could share. Amilyn smiled airily and swung back to her original place.
“Pull it together over there,” shouted Chief Pangie, who was taking up the rear. “We need to get back from this trip with the same number of princesses we started with!”
Leia called out, “Sorry! It won’t happen again.”
Under his breath, Kier said something she probably wasn’t meant to hear: “Yeah, it will.”
She turned toward him. “Excuse me?”
His face remained impassive, his dark eyes more curious than defensive. “It’s true. Your head’s been somewhere else all day. I don’t know what’s more important to you than not falling down this mountain, but whatever it is—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leia insisted. “And I don’t see how it’s any of your business how I climb.”
“We’re roped together,” he pointed out, not unreasonably. She recognized as she hadn’t before the tension in his wiry, muscular arms, and the sweat that shone on his brow. “If you fall, I probably fall too.”
That snapped her out of it better than anything else could’ve done. Of course they had portable force fields projected only a few meters beneath their climbing position; a tumble wouldn’t be fatal, only embarrassing. But Leia had gained a sharper appreciation for not putting other people at risk. Newly focused, she dedicated herself to getting up the ridge, paying attention to nothing farther away than the stone against her gloves and boots.
Within another half hour, they’d reached the high plateau that marked their goal for the day. Sssamm, who could secrete an adhesive substance from between his scales to aid in climbing, made it up so long before the others that they found him stretched out, basking in the sun.
“We’re taking a hopper down from here, aren’t we?” Chassellon’s long face was shiny with sweat, and his usually well-tended curls frizzed in every direction. “Right? There’s got to be a hopper.”
“Weak, Stevis.” Chief Pangie had taken a seat by Sssamm and was already digging into her packed lunch. “Can’t act weak if you want to be strong.”
He folded his arms. “I’m rich. I don’t have to be strong.”
“You never know when you’re going to lose all your money,” Amilyn pointed out as she removed her helmet, then shook her purple hair free. Chassellon’s eyes got larger, as though she’d just described the greatest disaster that could ever unfold.
Leia took a seat at the far edge of the plateau, her booted feet just shy of the edge. Thanks to sweat and dust, she was filthy—a line of grime marked the length of her sleeve—but she liked the sense of exhilaration that came after exertion. See? she said to the parents in her head, who were much more pliant and easily surprised than the real ones. I’m not afraid of taking risks. I’m ready for hard work. Let me try.
Then she remembered her father’s voice breaking when he talked about the possibility of her being captured. How could she ever push them when they were already so afraid for her?
But how could she not stand against the Empire?
Leia unscrewed the canister of soup she’d brought for lunch and set out a bandana as a sort of placemat. Only then did she realize Kier was settling in not far away. When he noticed her looking at him, he said, “This is okay, right?”
“I don’t own the mountain.”
“That’s right. We’re not on Alderaan anymore.”
She breathed out, a little huff of exasperation. “I don’t own the mountains on Alderaan either.”
He didn’t look up from unwrapping his sandwich as he said, “No, they own you.”
“What are you getting at, Kier?”
“On Alderaan, you’re stuck being a princess all the time. On Coruscant, you’re a senator in training. But here, when we’re climbing—I think that’s when you get to be yourself.”
She’d never thought of it that way before. “Why are you so worried about whether or not I’m happy being a princess?”
That wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but he glided past it. “You’re the future ruler of my planet. So I’m kind of curious about what you’re really like.”
“…I guess that makes sense,” Leia admitted.
“That’s not your only reason,” sang Amilyn Holdo, who turned out to be sitting on a boulder that loomed over their ridge. She gave Kier a loopy smile. “But it’s a good excuse. Maybe go with that.”
Kier ducked his head, more amused than abashed. “Can’t ‘go with’ it if you’re blowing my cover.” With a shrug, Amilyn turned back to her lunch, which seemed to be some sort of multicolored pasta.
It wasn’t like Leia hadn’t considered the possibility before. Kier was difficult to get to know—but he was smart and insightful. Interested in the larger galaxy around them. Willing to pitch in and help. Unawed by her royal status, even if sometimes he pushed too hard to prove that.
And good-looking. Can’t forget good-looking. Not that Leia was in much danger of forgetting it. She’d gotten to like his whipcord thinness, his heavy brows, and his deep-set dark eyes…
Still, looks weren’t everything. She had to figure Kier Domadi out a little more before she could know what she wanted from him.
Gazing toward the horizon, she again took in the buzz of air traffic around Eriadu City—as much as could be seen around Aldera, even though Alderaan was a Core World heavily connected by trade to many planets in the galaxy, while Eriadu had been a little-remarked-upon way station in the Outer Rim until a generation or two ago. Nodding in that direction, she said, “I guess Grand Moff Tarkin looks after his own.”
“Obviously. It’s not like anybody would have a reason to refuel here, unless they were officially diverted.” Whatever embarrassment Kier might have felt earlier had already faded; his attention was on the distant metropolis. “Tarkin’s not the only Imperial higher-up who channeled money back home. That’s how the Empire operates—favoritism and graft.”
Leia agreed with every word but had never heard anyone speak so openly about it, not even her parents outside the privacy of the palace. “You should be careful,” she said in a low voice. “Not everyone appreciates honesty.” Her eyes flickered over to Chassellon Stevis, but he lay sprawled on the ground, exhausted to the point of semiconsciousness.
Kier only shrugged. “I don’t lie to people.”
Leia remembered how thoroughly her parents had lied to her, and how she was now lying to Kier, and to the entire galaxy, through her silence about their plans. Honesty and deception were more complex than they first appeared.
She only smiled and said, “If you don’t like lying, the
n what are you doing in politics?”
That made him laugh out loud, the first time she’d ever heard him laugh. The rarity of it made it feel more worth winning. “I’m moving on as quickly as possible. Hopefully someday I’ll teach at a university like my mom. She teaches political science, but I want to become a historian. The Apprentice Legislature seemed like a good place to synthesize the two. To build on what she taught me while I move in my own direction.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “We don’t all get tutors, you know.”
Kier wasn’t needling her, she finally realized. He was studying her with the avid curiosity he brought to every subject, every moment. “Sometimes tutors aren’t especially helpful.” She pointed her thumb back at Chief Pangie, who was no doubt grinning in glee at the thought of sending them back down the mountain again. “Especially when you have a dozen.”
“A dozen? Really?” He shook his head like someone surfacing from underwater, readjusting expectations. “Royalty don’t use educational droids?”
“Sure, for standard academic subjects. But I’ve also had tutors in pathfinding, diplomacy, piloting, navigation—you name it. I’ve even studied hand-to-hand combat, though I’m still advancing there.”
“I never realized the House of Organa got into so many fistfights.” The joke was implicit; everyone throughout the galaxy was familiar with her parents’ reputation for peacemaking. If only the worlds knew the truth.
Hurriedly Leia said, “Honestly, I think my parents just want me to blow off some steam. I wish the lessons could start tomorrow.”
Kier took another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before finally saying, “I’ve never studied hand-to-hand combat, but I’m pretty good at sharpshooting.”
“What, like with blasters?”
He nodded. “If you’re game for a thirteenth tutor—and not afraid of a challenge—we could try that sometime. If you’d like.”
Leia could get a sharpshooting tutor from anywhere, any time she wished. Probably that would’ve been covered by her combat instructor anyway. And she knew full well that Kier wasn’t offering to teach her because he thought she needed to know. He was making an excuse to spend time with her.
She said, “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Two days later, on Coruscant, Leia and Kier walked into a target practice arena—a skinny, pyramid-shaped space that at its highest point reached ten meters over their heads. The faint metallic shimmer of its pale walls hinted at the holographic projectors and electronic scorers embedded within. Beneath her booted feet, the darker floor had some springiness to it, not unlike a gymnastics mat.
As she bounced on her heels, Kier noticed. “You can request the softer surface, so you get used to judging your terrain without relying on a flat, solid floor every time.”
“Makes sense.” Like her, Kier wore a formfitting white coverall lined with silver reflective piping. The pale clothing emphasized the golden tan of his skin. She blinked hard, refocusing her attention. “Let’s get started.”
“Show me your firing stance,” he said, and she went into the position she’d seen her guards in several times. After a second, Kier nodded and raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Okay. You’ve got that part down.”
She’d thought he might put his arms around her to correct her position, and wondered whether she should’ve fudged the stance just a little bit….
No. Leia wanted anyone who was interested in her to know who she really was, what she could really do. If Kier Domadi wanted to put his arms around her—well, he’d find a way.
Or she would.
Focus, she told herself as the lights lowered to one-quarter their usual brightness. But she’d spent so little time with anyone her own age, much less anybody she was attracted to. Being close to Kier energized her in a way she hadn’t experienced before, and she liked it.
“Run target practice simulation one,” Kier called out as he took his position, his back almost against Leia’s. “On my mark—go.”
A small golden polyhedron appeared in the air overhead, on Kier’s side of the arena. Instantly he fired one of the bluish test-pistol blasts, which “shattered” the holographic image. A transparent scoreboard hovering above showed ten points.
“Points? We’re scoring this?” Leia adjusted her grip.
At the edge of her peripheral vision, she saw him turning his head toward her. “You’re not scared of a challenge, are you?”
She answered him by pointing her weapon at the next floating polyhedron and firing. The bolt only clipped the hologram, but that was enough to hold it in place for a few moments, more than long enough for her to fire again and finish it. “Five points,” said the scoreboard.
“All right, then,” Kier said, and somehow she could hear the smile in his voice.
Most of the next hour passed in a happily violent blur. Leia kept winging her targets instead of hitting them straight on until she realized she was regularly leading left. Once she’d figured out how to adjust for that, her scores started rising dramatically. When the lights finally came up, she was thirty points behind Kier—but she’d been more than a hundred and fifty points behind at the halfway mark. “Another few minutes,” she panted, surprised at how tired she was, “and I would’ve caught you.”
Leia expected him to argue, but he nodded. “You would have. I think you have a talent for this.”
“We’ll have to practice again and see, won’t we?” She raised one eyebrow.
Luckily, Leia wasn’t the only one who enjoyed a challenge. A slow grin spread across Kier’s face. “Yeah. We will.”
That night she took the Polestar back to Alderaan, her mind filled with thoughts about the day’s target practice, and when she could go again. For the first time in months, she came in without wondering where her parents were, or whether they’d even notice she had returned. So, naturally, this was the time they were waiting for her.
“We were hoping you’d be here for dinner,” her father said as he walked into the library, where Leia had planned on a long daydreaming session. “It’s been too long since we ate as a family. And you look hungry.”
Was that what she looked like? Leia sat up straighter, trying not to look like anything at all.
She failed. “To me she looks happy.” Breha came in only a couple of paces behind him, carrying a frosty glass of mintea, Leia’s favorite. “What did you do today?”
“Sharpshooting. Kier and I practiced together. He goes a lot, and I thought it sounded like”—Good practice for combat probably wasn’t the answer her parents wanted to hear—“lots of fun.”
Bail and Breha exchanged glances. “Kier?” Bail said. “That’s Kier Domadi from the Apprentice Legislature, right?”
“And from the pathfinding class,” Breha added.
At least the shadows in the library would hide any hint of a blush. She didn’t want her parents prying. How was she supposed to explain what was going on with Kier before she knew herself? Time to switch to a distracting new subject. “Yeah, that’s him,” she said as airily as she could manage. “He won this time, but I nearly caught him. I think I might be good at this.”
“We might have a target shooting champion on our hands,” Breha said to Bail, her smile widening. “Do you think she could compete incognito?”
“Until she wins her first major match.” He put his arm around Breha, pulling her close. “Then we have to announce our daughter’s latest brilliant talent.”
Her parents’ approval had always warmed Leia, and after so long without it, she felt as if she wanted to drink it all in. She even had news that would increase it, she hoped. “By the way, I’m leaving for my next humanitarian mission tomorrow.”
Breha folded her arms across her chest, deliberately theatrical. “Nowhere dangerous, in any sense?”
“Onoam,” she answered. “It’s a moon, actually. Mining conditions there are rough, so I’m taking them new safety equipment. That’s all.”
“That should be fine,�
� Breha said in obvious relief.
Bail frowned slightly. “Onoam. I think I’ve heard of it—years ago, maybe—”
“Viceroy? Your Majesty?” Captain Antilles appeared in one of the doorways. He had the tense, distracted look that Leia was beginning to recognize. “We should speak in your office.”
Her parents instantly walked out, without another word to Leia. She wasn’t offended. Obviously they were discussing their actions against the Empire—whatever those were—and those were conversations Leia still had to earn her way into. The trip to Onoam would be a critical step toward that goal. At least this target was a safe one. What place could be farther from anti-Imperial activity than Palpatine’s home planet?
They’d be nothing but happy to learn of her trip to the Naboo system.
As the Polestar slid through the electric blue of hyperspace, Leia ventured, “Seems like it’s been longer than a couple of weeks since we traveled together last.”
“Has it been?” Ress Batten said. She seemed very interested in the controls in front of her, too much to even look up. “Maybe I’m getting it mixed up with another flight. The trips all start to run together in my head after a while.”
Disconcerted, Leia turned back to her datapad, but the information on the screen meant nothing. Her thoughts ran in other directions.
It made no sense for Batten to declare, Yes, I remember traveling to that illegal military outpost and running into your father there! Acknowledging what they’d seen would be hazardous for both of them, and for Bail Organa too. Still, Leia found their shared silence uncomfortable. Maybe I only want someone to talk to about this, she thought. Someone besides my parents.