Ishtaa
Hutta
Ishtaa sneered as she held the blade to Nomen Karr's neck.
She wanted to kill him.
It was men like him who had killed her parent: hypocrites, Jedi whose pretensions of peace were mere facades, suppressing the brutal beasts that lurked within. At least the Sith were honest about their vicious, power-hungry nature.
I want to kill him. The thought pounded in her skull. I want to avenge my parents.
Yet, as she stared down at him, his face glowing gold in the yellow light of her lightsaber, she felt the impulse wither and die.
She realized as she looked down the bridge of her nose at him, her stomach twisting with a mixture of pity and revulsion, that he was beneath her.
Her lip curled. She sheathed her lightsaber.
"You are despicable."
She could feel Quinn's gaze on the side of her face.
"If you have something to say, Captain, spit it out."
He glanced away, embarrassed.
"Sorry, my lord. It's just…I was merely wondering why you spared his life. His death would have drawn Jaesa just as well as his current, living anguish, if not more effectively."
Ishtaa gritted her teeth. There it was, out in the open. For a moment, she considered telling him all—her parents, the vendetta, everything. But then…She knew how he felt about letting emotions cloud one's judgment.
"There was no need," she said finally. "He was at my mercy."
She swallowed, debating whether or not she should say more.
Quinn was quiet when he spoke again. He lowered his eyes seriously. "You didn't wish to sink to his level." It was not a question.
Ishtaa turned to look at Quinn. Force-insensitive or no, Quinn was one of the most perceptive people she had ever met. He knew. Somehow, without her telling him, he had her all figured out.
Quinn, noticing her lack of a response, raised his eyes to meet hers. She felt once more compelled to reveal everything, to tell him the story from the beginning. But there was no need. He already, in his own peculiar, analytical way, knew.
"Yes," she answered simply.