notes: well, it wasn't six months again! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I'd love to hear from you your thoughts.

Oh, also, to that anonymous reviewer: Yeah, this story sounds familiar because this is a rewrite of that story. I didn't like the tonal disparities and overall issues, so I decided to rewrite what I already had written. So there you go, now you know. (For any of you interested in reading what that that reviewer wrote, be warned: there are spoilers in it.)


CHAPTER 2

"My lord? My lord, what has happened?"

Doritha-plump, silver-haired, and head of the Organa family's household on Coruscant-followed Bail closely as he pushed his way into Leia's bedroom, his daughter cradled gently in his arms. Her head lolled limply against his shoulder, and one arm hung loose at her side.

"My lord?" Doritha asked again.

"She was poisoned," Bail said, sharp like static. He knelt down beside Leia's bed, and laid her down gently on top of the coverlet.

Please, he prayed, let her be safe.

"Poisoned?" Doritha gasped. One hand flew to her mouth. "Great Mother Goddess," she whispered. Then, carefully, she asked, "What can we do?"

Bail smoothed back a lock of hair that had escaped Leia's braids. "Wait for the doctor," he said. He bowed his head, both of his hands curling around one of Leia's. Softly, he added, "That's all we can do right now."

Wait… The word echoed in Bail's head, and he felt his heart hammer against his ribs. But which will come first, he wondered, the doctor or the Sith?

No, Bail told himself firmly. We don't even know that the Sith will follow us here.

But was that not why you poisoned your own daughter? a second part of his mind rejoined. If the Sith do not follow, why did you poison her and risk her life?

Because they might come. All we can do is wait, Bail thought. That was what it came back to, in the beginning and in the end: waiting.

"What doctor?" Doritha asked, distracting Bail's inner turmoil. Bail heard her take a tentative half step closer to him, heard the worry in her voice. He chanced a glance up at her, and watched her wring her hands in her apron in worry, knuckles turning white.

"There's a doctor a few levels down from us," Bail said. "I sent Rebécca to get him."

Doritha nodded. "Good," she said. "I'll go fix some tea." She whirled and disappeared through the door.

Bail let her go without comment. Doritha needed something to do-some action to occupy her hands-and he didn't begrudge her that. He only wished that he was so easily distracted.

"Oh, Leia," he whispered, turning back to his daughter. He rose from his kneeling position and sat on the edge of her bed, gathering her to him. She was light in his arms, and with a pang Bail remembered just how young she was.

How could I have done this? Bail wondered. He knew the answer, knew the danger likely still encroaching moment by moment-but all the same, as he looked down at his still and pale daughter lying on her bed, all he could think was, Dear gods, what have I done?

They had just celebrated Leia's ninth birthday. It was the first without Breha, her mother, and it had been a bittersweet affair. The party, held at the palace, had felt empty without Breha's presence, and Leia had confessed privately to her father that evening that she had hated the whole event.

"Next year," Bail had promised her as he sat by her bed, the book he had been reading to her lying open on his lap, "we'll do something private for your birthday-something with just the two of us. How does that sound?"

Leia had thrown herself at him, hugging his neck tightly. "That sounds wonderful!" she had exclaimed, and then had kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Papá."

Now, sitting by her side as she lay silent as death, Bail feared that she would never see her tenth birthday.

Please, Bail prayed again. Mother Love, protect her. Vasieer, Daughter of Courage, give her strength.

There came a commotion in the hall-voices and footsteps, harried and strained. "Right through here," Bail heard Rebécca say, tone clipped with worry. She appeared in the doorway followed by a short, stout man carrying a satchel and dressed haphazardly in a long beige overcoat, orange sleep pants, and a misbuttoned shirt. "Sire," Rebécca said, standing aside to give the man enough space to press by her, "I present Dr. G'Bralza."

"Doctor," Bail said, shifting Leia back onto the bed and rising. He extended a hand to Dr. G'Bralza, who took it with a firm shake. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course, of course," the doctor replied. "Now please, tell me what's wrong. Your guard here said something about poison, but not much else."

"My daughter, Leia," Bail said. "She's been poisoned."

"I see," Dr. G'Bralza said. He slung the satchel onto the bed by Leia's feet, and then perched on the edge of the mattress. "Do you know with what?"

"No," Bail lied. "Though some of her symptoms align with Wormwood Ash. That's a fairly common poison on Alderaan."

"I've heard of it," Dr. G'Bralza said. "I've never encountered it, though. What are the symptoms?"

"Vomiting," Bail said. "Sudden fever. Difficulty breathing."

"Those are all fairly common side effects of many poisons," Dr. G'Bralza pointed out. He opened his satchel and pulled out a small device, which he clipped to the forefinger on Leia's right hand. A second device appeared from the depths of the satchel, the screen lighting up with a cursory flick of Dr. G'Bralza's fingers. He used it to scan Leia's chest and torso.

"What do we do?" Bail asked, hovering over the doctor's shoulder.

"I believe the most prudent option would be to transport Miss Organa to a hospital at once," Dr. G'Bralza said. "Her O2 levels are fluctuating wildly and she is in mild respiratory distress. Many of her internal organs are also showing preliminary signs of failure."

"No," Bail said, short and sharp. "No hospitals."

"Sir, I really must-" Dr. G'Bralza began, looking over his shoulder at Bail.

"I said no," Bail snapped, cutting him off. "My daughter was just poisoned, Doctor. I don't trust anyone else." He did not add that he feared what would happen if a Sith appeared in the hospital-if, gods forbid, Leia was discovered in a place surrounded by nurses and doctors, patients and patients' families. The death count, Bail feared, would be incredible.

"Then why do you trust me?" Dr. G'Bralza asked, turning fully and raising his eyebrows.

"Because I had you thoroughly vetted from the first week you moved in below us," Bail replied tersely. "Now are you going to help my daughter or not?"

Dr. G'Bralza hesitated, his breath of indecision as sharp as a pin. Then, "Of course I am," he said. "I'm not about to let a little girl die-not if I can stop it."

"Good," Bail said. "Then help her."

Dr. G'Bralza sighed, then straightened. His voice, when he spoke, cracked with a new air of command.

"Until we can ascertain what she was poisoned with, we will have to treat the symptoms. Lord Organa, can you obtain 50 milligrams of ketamine for me?"

"I'll send one of my people to get some at once," Bail said.

"Good." Then, muttered under his breath to himself as he turned, Bail heard Dr. G'Bralza say, "Now to draw some blood to see what this thing is..."

"Is that necessary?" Bail asked, pausing and turning in the doorway. He fixed the doctor with a long, hard look.

Ever since she was old enough to understand, Bail and Breha had taught Leia to never let anyone draw her blood; there were too many secrets that could be found out using only a single vial of it. Even with the poison in her blood destroying her midichlorians, Bail found it difficult to let go of this fear of discovery.

"We need to know what she was poisoned with," Dr. G'Bralza said. "So yes, it is necessary."

Bail hesitated, emotions warring in his heart and mind. Anakin and Padmé's DNA ran strong and true in her blood. Her midichlorian count was, if Yoda and Obi-Wan were to be believed-and there was no reason not to believe them-as off the charts as Anakin's had been. So many secrets could be discovered by the wrong test. So many lives hung in the precarious balance of secrecy surrounding Leia and the blood coursing through her veins.

More than that, Bail was not sure what all the doctor would be able to find with her blood. Would he realize that Bail himself had been the one to poison her? Would he figure out that the poison she had ingested was one meant to target midichlorians, rather than to take her life?

So many secrets, Bail thought. There are so many secrets her blood holds.

Aloud, however, Bail said, "Very well." The words were heavy and tasted of doom on his tongue, but he could not figure out a way to dissuade the doctor from doing it-not unless he wanted to raise the very suspicions he hoped, and prayed, would not come to light.

Bail waited a moment more, watching as the doctor pulled out a hypo and empty vial from his bag. Then he turned to leave the room, and Leia, behind him. He needed to find someone to go fetch the doctor's ketamine.

He only hoped he could find someone soon. Already he yearned to be back at Leia's side.

Please... he prayed.

The door shut behind him, and Bail turned.

To Bail's surprise, he found the hallway outside Leia's door crammed full of people. For a second he could only stand and stare, eyes roaming over the many strained and worried faces arrayed before him. Doritha was there, a pot of tea clutched in her hands; Rebécca stood at the front, still dressed in her ceremonial armor and wearing her sword on her hip; the cousins Abretheer and Abrothaar, who Malothar was eyeing for the next appointment of Honor Guard members, stood behind her. Besieer, Caral, Doran, Felthar...

It appeared that all of the household staff, as well as the guards that had accompanied Bail and Leia to Coruscant, were clustered outside her door, pale and concerned.

"Abretheer," Bail said, stepping forward and raising his voice in command. Though he wanted as many of his guards present as possible if the Sith arrived-When the Sith arrive, Bail told himself; he had to plan for that eventuality-the only one he trusted more than Abretheer and Abrothaar to obtain that which might save his daughter's life was Rebécca. And Bail wanted Rebécca at the apartment, with him and Leia.

Rebécca looked over her shoulder at Abretheer, then stepped aside so that he could come forward. He snapped into a quick salute, only relaxing when Bail said, "At ease.

"I need you to obtain 50 milligrams of ketamine. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sire," Abretheer said. "Consider it done."

Bail nodded. "Go quickly," he ordered. Abretheer stiffened once more in salute, then turned and vanished into the crowd, heading toward the staircase and the garage.

Once he was gone, Brienné, a young girl who had only been serving on Bail's staff for two years, asked, "Sire, what can we do?"

Bail remembered the cold of the poison's bottle in his hand. He remembered Leia going white, remembered hearing her groan of pain. He remembered her body going limp in his arms those last few seconds before they arrived at the apartment.

You've done this, Bail thought. This is all your fault. And for what?

To save her, Bail reminded himself. You did this to save her.

Bail looked back at Brienné, at Rebécca, at Doritha still standing with the forgotten pot of tea in her hands. "Pray," he said.

Pray that I haven't damned us all.

~o0o~

Leia dreamed of the past.

She stood in the great northern temple of Vasieer Brightheart, Alderaanian goddess of courage and strength of heart. On a dais before her stood the altar, cold blue and colder ice, inscribed with the ancient tongue of Alderaan, in which the first prophecies had been uttered. To either side of the altar stood two figures: one was tall and thin, dressed in a flowing robe as blue as ice over a leather tunic embossed with silver; the other was broad-shouldered and dangerous, clad in leather hunting gear and a wolf-pelt cloak, a snowfox skull hiding her face.

They were the Bright Priestess and the Wolf, Vasieer's two greatest clerics-the ones who led her people in prayer and song, and who led her priestesses on the hunt for the icebear, whose blood was required for sacrifice.

Boom.

Leia looked around. Standing between the columns that lined the cavern hall were a dozen more women, each clad in leather hunting gear, each with snowfox skulls masking their faces. There was a beat of silence, deadly and hollow, as each of them raised their drumsticks in the air. Then, as one, they brought them crashing down on the rawhide drums standing before them.

Boom.

The Bright Priestess stepped forward, the sleeves of her blue robe falling away as she lifted her hands. "Step forward, Child of Alderaan," she intoned. "Meet the goddess Vasieer."

"May she judge you worthy of her blessing," the Wolf added, stepping forward as well, and lifting her hands in silent supplication.

Boom.

Leia took a step forward, toward the priestesses, toward the altar. It stood before her, cold and resolute, a silent sentinel beckoning her onward. Come, it seemed to whisper to her. Come to me, Child of Alderaan.

Behind her, Leia could feel the eyes of her parents. She remembered the warmth of her mother's last hug, those final moments before the Bright Priestess had led Leia into the shrine; she remembered the soft tenor of her father's voice, as he had said, "We'll be with you the entire time, my Lelila."

Come, the altar beckoned.

Boom, boom, boom.

Leia knelt, her knees cold against the ice of the dais. The dress she wore, as thin as gossamer and as white as the snow of the mountains, did little to protect her from the chill.

Boom.

Boom.

BOOM.

Leia bowed her head, clasped her hands before her, and closed her eyes.

BOOM.

Why have you come, oh Child of Alderaan?

The voice was fire and sleet and the vastness of space. It was a hundred thousand brilliant strands of light, shining in brilliant gold and deepest violet and shimmering chartreuse. It was a tapestry of sound, of thought, of hope and despair and eternity.

It was everything. It was nothing.

It sang in Leia's blood like the twin suns she had dreamed of presiding over endless dunes of sand.

Why have you come to me? the voice asked again.

"If she speaks to you," the Bright Priestess had instructed, "tell her-"

I have come to ask Vasieer's blessing, Leia replied, the words forming like clay in her mind.

Ah, the voice sighed, and in it was the winds of all the skies above Alderaan. Courage. Strength of heart. You come to seeking these?

Yes, Leia said.

Laughter, bright and blue and sharp like crystal clear glacier. But you already have that. It is within you already-in your heart and in your blood, though hidden beneath veils of lies.

I don't understand, Leia said.

Not yet, the voice replied. But you will, oh Child of Alderaan. Oh child of the Force.

Leia opened her eyes, the final words echoing in her mind with all the sharpness of ice.

The twin suns, which she had dreamed of countless times, hung on the edge of the world, turning the waves of sand that stretched out beneath the sky to running gold. The air shimmered with heat, the heavens burned with rose and flame and dusty violet, and Leia's lungs filled with the dryness of the desert.

There was laughter, and the patter of childish feet on the sandy ground. Leia turned. Running toward her was a boy with straw-blond hair, with eyes as blue as sapphires and as bright as the mountain sky. He laughed again, and his eyes met hers, lips hooked with a carefree, boyish smile. "I know you," he said, coming to a halt a few feet away from her. "I've dreamed of you."

"And I of you," Leia replied, taking a step forward, lifting a hand to reach for the boy. He reached for her as well, and their fingertips met. His fingers were warm beneath hers, solid and steady and as real as waking. His smile faded, and his blue eyes turned sad.

"I know you," he said again, wistful and longing.

And the boy faded from view.

The twin suns, which had burned like halos behind the boy, did not; they remained balanced on the lip of the world-but as she watched, the sky bled to scarlet, starting in the east and crawling to the west. Rising on the dry wind, tumbling over the dunes and swirling around her ankles, Leia heard a symphony of a hundred screams. And beneath, above, within it, creeping on the avenues of the wind and sinking down into her bones, was a strange hum that Leia thought she knew.

She whirled on her heel, eyes roaming across the waves of sand in search for the source of the noise. And there, almost hidden between two dunes, Leia saw a tongue of blue flame shining against the red sky. Beneath its feet a hundred forms cowered.

The tongue of blue flame rose and fell-and rose and fell again, and again, and again, until there was only stillness and silence at its feet.

Leia blinked, and found herself standing amid the massacre. Blood stained the sand, and fire licked at the edges of cloth tent walls. The twisted, burned corpses of the people birthed by the desert's sand lay in crumpled heaps, in ones and twos and threes, shapes made of shadow and death. Leia took one step, then another, and found herself staring at the hewn body of a child no older than her. Its face was twisted in fear.

The fire licking at the tents licked at the edge of Leia's vision-and the child lying at her feet her blurred and ran, like wax melting from a candle, until its skin was smooth and pale like bone, body clad in brown robes twisted around the wound burned and hewn in her chest. Leia took a frightened step backwards, only for her heel to catch on something soft. She fell back, landing on her butt, hands going out to catch herself-only to scramble quickly back as she felt chilling flesh beneath her fingers. She came to a halt, and looked at what had tripped her-and there, lying still and silent before her, Leia saw another dead child with a burn through his chest.

The fire, still licking on the edge of Leia's conscious, climbed higher. She shut her eyes, afraid-and in the darkness behind her eyelids, Leia heard a scream. It was a hollow, ragged scream, hiding a single, painful word.

"Traitor!"

The fire crept in behind her eyelids.

Two figures emerged from the flames. The first stood on the sloping banks of a burning river; the second lay half-submerged in the sullen red lava, an arm of metal scraping through the rubble on the bank's edge in a vain attempt to pull himself free.

"You were the Chosen One," the first man screamed while the second man burned. In his voice was heartbreak.

"No," Leia begged, covering her ears with her hands. She had dreamed of this-of the burning man, and of the man weeping on the bank above him-before. It was her worst nightmare. "Please."

The fire roared. It swallowed her whole.

She screamed.

Then-nothing. Drifting, aching, empty nothing.

Leia opened her eyes.

She was standing in a black throne room hung with scarlet banners. On the far end rose a glittering dais, upon which sat a hard throne made of sharp obsidian.

Leia blinked, and the throne room was gone. In its place was a room overlooking a barren, mountainous landscape riddled with rivers of lava. Behind it all, within it all, over it all was a hard, mechanical breathing.

Leia blinked again, and the room was replaced with eyes, hooded and hung with shadow: blue eyes-like the boy's, like the burning man's-that bled to sickly yellow.

A hand on her shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise.

A ship, old and contrary, flying past stars that blurred and bowed.

Trees tall and proud and hung with mist; ice and snow and bitter wind; sand and two suns burning, burning, burning.

A black mask.

A severed hand lying on dark stone, on slick metal, on burning sand.

The past, the voice whispered to her. The future.

Please, Leia said to it. She did not know for what she begged.

Green fire.

A planet gone in an instant of flame and silence.

A boy with black hair that gleamed blue; a blind man holding light.

Please, she said again, and closed her eyes.

I am with you, oh Child of the Force.

She opened her eyes.

The Wolf and the Bright Priestess knelt before her.

"Child?" the Wolf asked, putting out a hand to steady Leia as she swayed. "Are you well?"

"Did Vasieer speak with you?" the Bright Priestess asked.

"Yes," Leia whispered. "I think so."

"And what did she say?" the Bright Priestess asked.

Leia looked over her shoulder at her parents. They stood at the foot of the altar's dais, worry painted in their eyes in and in their mouths. Her mother clung to her father, who had an arm around her shoulders.

"She said she is with me," Leia said at last, turning back to the Bright Priestess and the Wolf, who smiled and lifted their arms heavenward in praise. The words tasted like snow in her mouth-cold and sweet and sharp.

"And what did you see?" the Wolf asked, lowering her arms and looking at Leia once more. "Did Vasieer send you a vision?"

Leia remembered the fire, the boy with blue eyes, the man burning on the bank of the river of flame. She remembered the throne room, and the black mask, and the boy with blue-black hair. She remembered the ship, and the twin suns.

"No," she said, the lie falling from her lips with ease. Her mother and father had long ago taught her not to share her dreams with anyone.

The Wolf and the Bright Priestess frowned, but nodded. "Very well," the Bright Priestess said. She stood, and gestured for Leia to stand as well.

"Vasieer has spoken," the Bright Priestess proclaimed, voice ringing out through the hall. "Our princess has Brightheart's favor!"

A cheer arose, echoing and re-echoing from wall to wall. Behind her, Leia could feel her mother's and father's pride welling, shining forth in their smiles.

And beneath it all, as faint as a whisper, Leia heard once more, I am with you, oh Child of the Force.

And Leia woke.

~o0o~

Leia's return to consciousness was gradual, like water dripping from an open faucet.

First she was aware of the expand and contract of her ribs as she drew in breath.

In.

She felt the prickle of cool air against her face and lips.

Out.

She felt the soft silk of her dress against her skin.

In.

She felt her heart beat, fast but deliberate, against her ribs.

Thump.

She heard voices, distant and echoing, far above her.

In.

The voices resolved into words, one at a time.

Thump.

She only understood a handful of words, words like "concerned" and "doctor" and "now".

Out.

"Leia."

Her eyelids fluttered. For half a second she saw the star-painted ceiling of her room. Then more darkness, and weight against her eyes, dragging her eyelids down.

"Leia?"

Someone squeezed her hand.

Thump.

In.

Out.

"Can you hear me, Lelila?"

She knew that voice. Knew the words it spoke.

Her eyelids fluttered again, and this time she caught more than a glimpse of her ceiling. A face, bent close, creased with worry and concern. A face she knew; a face she loved.

"Papá?" Her voice came out as a croak. Her breath tasted bitter and sour, like vomit.

"Shh," her father murmured, and she felt his hand against her forehead, smoothing back her hair. "Don't try to talk right now."

Then his voice changed, moved away from her. She heard him say to someone else, "Get some water. And tell Dr. G'Bralza that Leia is awake."

"Yes, Sire," someone said in reply, and then Leia heard footsteps hurrying away.

"Papá," Leia said again, and she struggled to sit up.

"No, Lelila," her father said, pressing her back down to the bed. "You need to rest." A breath of hesitation, in which Leia struggled against him, against herself. Then she sank back down, exhausted, and let the bed and blankets under which she was swathed welcome her.

"Why do I hurt?" Leia asked. Her voice still sounded half a croak.

Her father looked at her for a very long moment, his brow pressed into a frown. He seemed to hesitate, as if he was torn between two invisible options. Dazed and barely awake as she was, Leia could only guess at what that meant. He seemed worried, though-worried enough for Leia to see and sense it.

Leia wondered what he was thinking. As she lay there and looked at her father's worried face, she wondered too if she should reach out for him, as she did sometimes, to listen to the echoes of his thoughts and feelings. For, sometimes, when she was very quiet and very still, and when her father was most disturbed, she could hear his emotions. She could sometimes even make out the faintest imprints of what his thoughts had been.

Now, his worry made her worry, both for him and for her.

"Papá?" Leia asked. This time it was her who squeezed her father's hand.

Her father smiled. "It's okay, Lelila," he promised. "I'm just worried about you." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Leia's forehead. "I was so worried for you," he whispered.

"Why?" Leia asked, after her father leaned back. "And why...why am I so tired? And achy?"

Her father's frown deepened. "Do you not remember?" he asked.

Leia thought back. She remembered the Solstice ball-remembered her dress; remembered the long, slow drive through the palace gates; remembered her fear at the palace spires-and remembered her father scooping her up into his arms. She remembered the flight through the kitchens to the garage, and remembered her father sitting across from her in the speeder, holding a small, black vial.

She remembered her father saying, as serious as she had ever heard him, "I need for you to be very brave."

Very softly, Leia said, "I was poisoned. That's what you told me."

"Yes," her father said, just as softly. "That's right."

Leia shivered, and hunkered down into the blankets. Her head throbbed, making it difficult to think, and her chest hurt with a low, dull ache. "Who did it?" she asked.

Her father shook his head. "We don't know," he told her. "But don't worry. We'll figure it out."

Leia nodded. Above all, she trusted her father-trusted him with her safety, trusted him to do as he promised. "Okay," she said.

She was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then, looking back up at her father, Leia asked, "Is that what you're so worried about? Who poisoned me?"

Her father looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

"You're worried," Leia said. "I can tell."

Once again, Leia's father reached down to smooth back her hair. "I'm just worried about you," he said gently. "You gave me quite the scare."

Leia nodded. That made sense. But all the same, as her father smiled at her, Leia could not help but feel as if there was something else-something deeper, something darker, that her father feared that had nothing to do with her being poisoned.

Footsteps. Leia lifted her head just enough to see Brienné coming forward with a cup in her hand. She gave it to Leia's father, who thanked her, then turned back to Leia.

"Here, Lelila," he said softly, and held the cup to Leia's lips.

Water, cold and clear, trickled into Leia's mouth. She drank greedily, grateful to wash the taste of bile from her tongue.

"That's enough for now," her father said after a few seconds, and pulled the cup away. "I'll let you finish it in a few minutes, once we know your stomach is settled." He smiled at her then, and settled back down onto the edge of her bed.

"Am I going to be okay?" Leia asked after a moment in which silence reigned.

"Yes, my Lelila," her father said. "You're going to be just fine, if a little sore and achy for a few days. Dr. G'Bralza did a fine job healing you."

"Dr. G'Bralza?" Leia asked.

"He's the doctor who attended you," her father told her. "He should be coming-"

"He's here," a new voice said, punctuated by the sound of the door opening and closing.

A stout man with salt-and-pepper hair and beard appeared at Leia's bedside, opposite her father. The man smiled at Leia and extended his hand.

"I am Dr. G'Bralza," he said when Leia took his hand and shook it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Leia."

"Nice to meet you too," Leia said shyly. She looked sideways at her father, who smiled encouragingly.

"Now," Dr. G'Bralza said, "let's take a look at you."

He took out a stethoscope and pressed it to Leia's chest, listening to her heartbeat. Then he fixed a small nodule on her the forefinger of her left hand. "To measure your oxygen rates," he explained when she asked what it was for. He also scanned her stomach, and informed her and her father that "The organs that showed preliminary signs of failure have stabilized.

"She's out of the woods," he pronounced at last, sitting back and smiling broadly at Leia. "You, young miss, are going to make a full recovery."

"Thank the Mother," Leia's father breathed. She looked at him, and felt his hand tighten reassuringly around hers. He smiled at her.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. G'Bralza asked Leia.

"My head and chest hurt," Leia said. "And I feel all shaky and tired."

"That's to be expected. You're going to be weak and shaky for the next few days," Dr. G'Bralza said. "And you'll likely be queasy and nauseous, so I recommend broths and light soups for a couple days."

"Of course," her father said. "Thank you, Doctor."

"My genuine pleasure," he said, and patted Leia's arm. "I'm just glad this story had a happy ending."

A strange look flashed across her father's face. Was it doubt? Uncertainty? Fear? As quickly as it had appeared, however, it was gone, and Leia was left wondering.

"How can we repay you?" her father asked, his tone even and earnest.

"No need to pay me," Dr. G'Bralza said.

"I insist. You have done the Organa House a great service tonight. We must reward you in some way."

"The chance to finish the meal Madame Doritha and your cook made is reward enough," Dr. G'Bralza assured her father.

"At least allow me to walk you down?" her father asked.

Dr. G'Bralza laughed. "If you insist, my lord."

"None of that," Leia's father said with a smile. "I insist you call me Bail." He turned to Leia. "I'll be right back, mi niná."

"Okay," Leia said, and smiled up at him.

Dr. G'Bralza and her father left, talking quietly. Once they were gone, Leia propped herself up in bed and reached for the cup of water, which her father had left on her bedside table. Holding it with both hands-even holding the cup was difficult, she was trembling so much-she took three long drinks, draining the cup dry. With a sigh, she set the cup back on the table and settled back into her bed.

Her room was as quiet and warm as ever. The walls were painted a pale pink, just dark enough to be visible but not so dark as to dominate the open space. The color gathered the warm lights set into the ceiling and threw back a comforting, rosy glow. The bed, bedside table, and wardrobe, which sat in the far corner of the room beside the wall of windows, were made of a dark cherry wood, which accented the rosy glow of the walls. The cushions on the window seat, centered on the wall of windows, were a deep red, matching the comforter and pillowcases on Leia's bed. The door to the 'fresher was on the other side of Leia's bedside table, and the door out into the hall, standing open now in wait for her father's return, faced her over the end of her bed.

Leia lay back into her pillows and pulled the blankets to her chin. Then, closing her eyes, she let out a long breath. Three, she counted silently. Two. One.

It was time, she decided, for her to listen to her father-to learn, if she could, what was still worrying him.

She saw darkness. There was nothing before her and nothing behind her save an empty expanse of black shadow. Her heart beat against the prison of her ribs, her breath echoed in her lungs and in her mouth, and her blood pounded in her ears and in her veins.

Still, Leia told herself. Be still. Be quiet.

The sound of her heart, her breath, her blood faded. Then there was only silence. Only stillness.

Leia thought of her father-of his voice, of his smile, of his arms wrapped around her. She thought of him standing in the kitchen down on the first floor of their apartment, Doritha hovering by the stove, Dr. G'Bralza seated at the table in the nook lined with windows. She thought of his breath, of his heart, of his blood.

"Papá," she whispered and pressed against him-against the ghost of his skin, his bones, his mind.

Echoes: the taste of fear, stale and already half-forgotten; the smell of relief, strong and bright; the sound of joy, sun and orange and clanging like a dozen bells. And beneath it all, rippling like the coils of a serpent, oozing like brown sludge, was more fear-fear that tasted like blood and like ash.

Leia's eyes snapped open. The taste of blood and ash pressed against her tongue, crawled into her nose, ran from her eyes like tears. Her breath shuddered in her mouth, her heart crashed in her throat, her blood thundered beneath her paper-thin skin. She shivered in spite of the blankets piled around her, the chill running from her head to her toes.

Slowly, inexorably, with claws that sank fear into her heart and mind, rose the question, What is Papá afraid of?

Then, nipping on the heels of her first question, What am I afraid of?

"Lelila? Are you alright?"

Leia looked up to see her father standing in the open doorway. He was frowning. Before she could conjure up the words to answer him, however, he was kneeling by her side, reaching out a hand to press against her forehead.

"Do I need to go get Dr. G'Bralza?"

Leia shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm fine."

"You're pale," her father said. "And you look like you might throw up."

Leia shook her head again. "I'm okay," she said in earnest. "Promise. I don't feel sick."

Her father looked uncertain. But, at last, he nodded. "Okay," he said. "But if you do start feeling sick, tell me."

"I will," Leia promised.

She wondered if she should tell him that she could still taste the ash and the blood. She wondered if she should ask him what he was afraid of that he wasn't telling her. She wondered if he even knew that he was afraid.

"Papá," she began, not entirely sure what she was going to say.

Before she could say another word, however, Rebécca appeared in the doorway. She crossed to the bed quickly, and leaned over Leia's father to whisper in his ear. Leia strained to hear what was being said, but all she could hear was the soft murmur of Rebécca's voice.

Her father went pale.

"Stay here, Leia," her father ordered, standing quickly. "I'll be back in a minute."

The door behind them opened.

"Sir," Abrothaar said from the hallway, "you can't go in there-"

A tall figure stepped through the doorway, ignoring Abrothaar's rising protestations.

The man-Leia assumed it was a man-was dressed all in black: black tunic, which reached nearly to his knees; black leggings; black boots that laced up his shins; black gloves; black belt, from which hung a pouch on one side, and on the other a peculiar device. It was half a circle, with a grip wrapped with wire and black leather. Covering his face was a black mask.

Just the sight of him made Leia want to cry out and bury herself beneath her blankets, hiding herself from view. He reminded her of a viper coiled in the grass, of a wolf prepared to spring; he was a predator, closing in on his prey. He made the taste of blood and ash rise in her mouth, drip down her throat and chin.

She hated him. She feared him.

"Who are you?" Leia's father demanded.

"Greetings to you as well, Senator," the man said, his voice coming out hard and metallic from behind the mask. Hearing it made Leia's skin crawl, made her head pound even harder, made her want to scream and cover her ears with her hands.

"You have no right to be here," Leia's father said, the words sharp and cutting, voice imperious. "Get out."

"On the contrary," the man said. "I have every right to be here."

"On whose authority?" Leia's father asked.

"The Emperor's," the man said. "I am Twelfth Brother, of the Order of Inquisitors, and I am here on business of the Empire."

"What matter of state could be so pressing," Leia's father demanded, "that you interrupt me at my home, when I am with my daughter, who was just-"

"Yes, yes, your daughter was poisoned," Twelfth Brother said dismissively. "So I've been told."

"So what-"

"My business does not concern you, Senator," Twelfth Brother said, cutting Leia's father off for a second time. "And I recommend you check your tone."

"I will have you escorted from my home, forcibly if necessary."

"I would not recommend you try," Twelfth Brother said. "It would go poorly for your men. And for you, Senator."

"Are you threatening me?" Leia's father asked.

"Stating a fact," Twelfth Brother replied. "Now step aside, Senator. My business is with your daughter."

"Do you really think," Leia's father asked, "that I will even allow you close to my daughter? You are a masked stranger who refuses to tell me his business with her. And might I remind you," he added, "that she was just poisoned?"

Twelfth Brother took a step into the room. "Yes," he said simply. "I do think that. Or I will report your insubordination to the Emperor."

"I am one of the Emperor's oldest friends," her father retorted. "Do you truly believe that your word will be held in higher standing than my own?"

The Inquisitor did not answer that. Instead, he ordered coldly, "Step aside, Senator."

"No," Leia's father replied.

Twelfth Brother moved faster than Leia thought possible. One second he was standing one step into the room, and the next he was in front of Leia's father. She heard the crack of leather against skin, and then she saw her father stumble to the side, a hand rising to his cheek.

"Put your hands in the air!" It was Abrothaar. He stood in the doorway with the blaster in his hands pointed straight at Twelfth Brother. "I said put your hands up," he said again, when Twelfth Brother made no move to obey.

Rebécca, standing off to one side, had drawn her sword. "I recommend you do as he says," she said, voice little more than a snarl.

"Tell your men to stand down," Twelfth Brother ordered Leia's father. He turned toward him, and his left hand fell to the device hanging from his belt. "You know who I am, Senator. You know what I am capable of."

There was a moment of warring indecision. Leia looked at her father and saw his expression bleed from anger to something much darker. His shoulders were stiff beneath his fine robe, and the hand at his side clenched into a tight fist. His mouth, pulled into a flat line, turned white.

"Stand down," Leia's father said at last, his hand falling from his cheek. He looked first at Rebécca then at Abrothaar. "Stand down," he said again, sharper, when neither of them made a move to obey.

"Wise choice," Twelfth Brother said softly, and Leia imagined that he was smiling. "Now," he said, and turned toward her, "Leia Organa, you are under investigation by the Order of Inquisitors."

"What does that mean?" Leia's father demanded from behind Twelfth Brother. He sounded guarded though, careful, as if he was wary of offending Twelfth Brother.

"It means," Twelfth Brother said casually, "that we have reason to believe Leia is Force Sensitive."

"That's impossible," Leia's father snapped, all pretense of caution gone. The darkness in his face sounded in his voice. "We would know if she was-"

"Silence," Twelfth Brother said, holding up a hand to forestall her father from continuing to speak. "The blood test will tell us the truth."

Leia shrank back into her pillows. "Blood test?" she asked. "But I'm not supposed to let anyone draw my blood."

Twelfth Brother cocked his head to one side. "Is this true, Organa?" he asked, half turning to look at Leia's father.

"Leia is adopted," her father said quickly. "While that is common knowledge, it was deemed wise to keep her actual genetic records out of public knowledge."

"I see," Twelfth Brother said. "Nevertheless, you will allow me to draw your blood."

Leia looked at her father, visible to one side of the Inquisitor. "Papá?" she asked.

The darkness, which Leia could not name, rose in her father's face for a moment, and the flat line of his mouth turned hard and sharp. Then it settled back behind the mask her father so often wore, and her father nodded once. "It's okay, Lelila," he said. "Just this once."

Leia wished her father had said "No." She wished Abrothaar and Rebécca would take this man away. She wished this man had never come.

She wondered also why her father was suddenly obeying Twelfth Brother. Her father was both a Senator and a Prince-didn't that mean that he had more power and authority than Twelfth Brother? And yet Twelfth Brother seemed certain in his standing-certain enough to slap her father.

Even just the thought of Twelfth Brother slapping her father made Leia's blood boil, and wish again that Rebécca and Abrothaar would take this man away. "Why did you let him do that?" she wanted to scream at Rebécca. "Why don't you stop him?" she wanted to yell at Abrothaar.

Twelfth Brother stepped up to Leia's bedside, then knelt. From his pouch he drew out a small device with a needle on one end.

"Hold out your arm," he ordered.

Leia looked again at her father. He nodded encouragingly, though his eyes were dark and unhappy. Slowly, miserably, Leia drew her left arm out from beneath the blankets, and offered it to Twelfth Brother.

Twelfth Brother removed a cap from the end of the needle. Then, taking Leia's arm, he slowly and carefully inserted the tip of the needle into the crook of her arm. It stung, and Leia clenched her teeth to keep from jerking away.

The device beeped, and Twelfth Brother removed the needle from her arm. He slid the cap back onto it, then turned the device around so that he could read the screen.

For a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then Leia's father said coldly, "Now that you have your answer, Inquisitor, leave."

Twelfth Brother rose, sliding the device back into his pouch. "You are in no position to be giving orders, Senator," Twelfth Brother sneered. He reached up, and with the sound of metal sliding against metal, the faceplate on his mask slid back to reveal flat, yellow eyes, ash-grey skin, and bloodless lips. He smiled, and the expression made shivers crawl up and down Leia's spine, made a cold, hard fist settle in her stomach.

"What do you mean?" Leia's father demanded. "You have your answer, now go."

With a single fluid move, Twelfth Brother unhooked the strange device from his belt and lifted it. Then, with the sound of a snap-hiss, a blade of crimson fire ignited from the hilt.

Leia knew what it was-had seen pictures of this weapon, had heard her father tell her stories about the old Jedi Knights wielding had seen it in her dreams, in the hands of the man with blond hair standing above the shadows cowering at his feet. It was a lightsaber.

"Bail Organa," Twelfth Brother said, turning and lifting the humming, crimson blade of the lightsaber to rest a mere inch from Leia's father's unprotected neck, "you are under arrest for committing high treason against the Galactic Empire."