Queen's Peril
Page 19
When the music had finished and the flower petals were swept from the square, Queen Amidala and her handmaidens gathered on the balcony where the Trade Federation had first captured them. The Jedi were gone, and Anakin Skywalker had gone with them. Most of Naboo would never know what he had done for them, but those who did know would never forget.
Sabé had brought her hallikset outside with them. She hadn’t played it in months, but opening the case was like going home. She fitted the pieces together and checked her tuning. Once, the instrument had been her obligation. Her task. Her duty. Once, the music she played had filled her heart while the knowledge of her shortcomings had drained it. But she knew better now.
With her friends around her and the clear Naboo sky above, she started to play.
The girl in the white dress had her mother’s brain and her father’s heart, and a spark that was entirely her own. Brilliance and direction and compassion as bright as the stars. But now she was alone, and no one could help her. Whatever happened next, however it was recorded and remembered, she was entirely on her own.
From the time she was small, she had wanted to help. Her father was often gone offworld, and it wasn’t until she was sixteen that she tried to take action on her own. It hadn’t ended particularly well, but she had learned a valuable lesson and gained the trust of her parents in the process. When she’d stood at the top of Appenza Peak, her planet stretching out from her in beautiful blues and greens as far as she could see, she had known she would never see anything quite so beautiful as home.
She’d always known that it had been her great privilege to be adopted into her family, and what it would mean for her when it was time to take her mother’s place on the throne. She’d worked hard to be worthy of it, even the parts she didn’t like. She’d given up her dignity and her freedom and, once, a boy she’d loved, and she’d known every time that she would do it again for the people she would someday rule.
But now—now she would never live her parents’ dreams for her. She would never rise as high as they had hoped she would. The throne was gone and the mountain was gone and they were gone, and it felt like she was the only one left. But she wasn’t about to let that stop her.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that running a rebellion and running a planet were not as different as she’d thought. Both required a sacrifice of self, and both required an understanding of being a small part in a larger whole. The Rebellion’s hope was strong, but their list of allies was thin. She knew she was up to the challenge.
And now she stood alone, even though she was surrounded by people in the hall. She could even see other Alderaanians in the front row, standing proudly at attention as though their souls weren’t crushed by the weight of a loss that was next to impossible to quantify. The battle was done and they would celebrate it. But in her heart, she knew that the war would be long. She always had. She had made herself to fight, and she would do so for as long as she drew breath.
The music began, and the huge doors at the back of the hall slid open to reveal the Heroes of the Rebellion. Suddenly, she didn’t feel quite so alone anymore.
The girl in the white dress was never going to be Queen, but she was ready.
Thanks, as always, to Josh, who called within ten minutes after I emailed him all, “Hey, do you think we could get a Star Wars book?” one cold December morning in 2014. It had a different title and, um, plot back then, but the heart was the same, and Josh helped me see it through.
Jen Heddle remains extraordinary, in case anyone is keeping score. Thank you for always letting me take risks and then making sure I stick the landing. And for that scene where we made sure someone’s going to have to add a menstruation page to Wookieepedia. What’s next?
Lucasfilm Story Group remain some of my favorite people, even if I don’t ask specific enough questions, resulting in Leland giving me eight named planets (what I’d asked for) and then Pablo telling me there are in fact SEVERAL DOZEN PLANETS. Matt’s notes always make me laugh. Emily, I am probably going to tell too many people that I was right about the pilots, so feel free to remind everyone that I literally cannot ever remember what any of the ships are called.
Leigh and Tara, you’ve made my words look beautiful (again!) and I am so, so pleased with the whole package. Here’s to many, many dresses.
Michael Siglain, Lyssa Hurvitz, Dina Sherman, and the rest of Team Space Mouse, thank you for getting the word out. To my fellow Star Wars writers: it’s a pleasure as always to share this galaxy with you and borrow cool things. I didn’t break Panaka. That’s on Claudia.
Emma, as always, I think I’m Force-sensitive.
Davis, you liked The Phantom Menace and I breathed a sigh of relief. I love you so much. Your enthusiasm for Star Wars bolsters my joy whenever I think about it.
And, finally, thanks to Dot, who jokingly renamed My Chemical Romance at exactly the right moment in my life. It was destiny, I guess.
Queen’s Peril was begun in the author’s head in 1999, written in September of 2019 in a fog of Mindhunter and My Little Pony, and edited quite ruthlessly all across North America.
E. K. JOHNSTON is the author of Star Wars: Queen’s Shadow; Star Wars: Ahsoka; The Afterward; That Inevitable Victorian Thing; and Exit, Pursued by a Bear. She had several jobs and one vocation before she became a published writer. If she’s learned anything, it’s that things turn out weird sometimes, and there’s not a lot you can do about it. Well, that and how to muscle through awkward fanfic because it’s about a pairing she likes.