After a time of walking, they entered the main Temple halls. The guards at the entrance, holding double-bladed lightsabers the color of Iminec, paid them no heed. What were they? Renowned warriors, rejected for not being Force-sensitive enough? Jedi, who'd chosen to don a different name and face and serve the Temple forever?

As they entered the hall, she immediately felt out of place. Jedi of various species spoke to one another in hushed voices, looking out the windows or walking down the aisles. They all wore long robes, and the younger Jedi bore strange little braids trailing down their backs or chests.

She quietly ducked her head and shoved her gloved hands into her pockets, grateful that nobody could see her face. There were no Kaleesh here, which only made her look stranger amidst humans, Togrutas, Twi'leks, and scads of other aliens she'd only read about.

"Arna!" a deep voice entered from behind him, and both turned around. A scarred, bald man, whose complexion reminded Ronderu of a daelfruit, waved to them from a few meters away. He ambled toward them, bowing once he was near, and Arna returned it with a shy smile.

The man, who was slightly chubby but friendly-looking, shook Arna's hand jubilantly. "It has been too long. I was unaware you'd picked up a Padawan!"

Ronderu's face blossomed with heat, and Arna chuckled. "She's a foreigner. Bound to my service until she can pay off her debts for—"

Ronderu cleared her throat loudly. "I'm Ru. Ru san Jinn."

The man smiled. "I am the Jedi Master T'Chooka D'oon. Arna was my protégé a year ago."

"Your…." she searched for the word. "Padawan?"

"Exactly!" he said. "I'm beyond proud of him for having passed the trials and ascended to Knighthood." Ronderu didn't understand most of this, so she nodded and smiled sheepishly.

"You two will dine with us?"

Arna nodded. "If the Jedi will entertain a visitor."

"I will make it so," D'oon said. "Come inside."

As they walked down the halls, Ronderu kept her eyes to the ground. D'oon spoke to her after a time. "Your accent sounds Mandalorian, my young friend."

"I'm not your friend."

Ignoring her, he continued. "But underneath, I hear traces of something the Republic has not heard since I was a young Padawan learner."

"I'm Kaleesh. But I've also practically become a Mandalorian citizen," she added bitterly.

"Arna treats you well?"

"Why wouldn't I?" his old Padawan said from beside them. "Ru likes me. She just doesn't want to admit it."

She supposed that was fair enough. "I must get home as soon as possible," she murmured, almost to herself. "I've already been away for too long."

Arna was notably silent at this, but D'oon picked up her response. "Anyone you're homesick for? A friend? Business partner? Spouse?"

My love. Strange emotions rolled off Arna's aura, but she steeled herself and spoke. "I'm sure you've heard of the Kalee conflict since you will be judging it today."

D'oon nodded somberly. "But you wish to return to that war zone?"

Thank the gods he's planning to side with us. She gazed toward the ground. "My loyalty is to my people, and one person there whom…." Whom I've gone sick with longing for.

"As well it should be," D'oon said. "You have the look of one who fought in the time of the Bitthævrian War when the Republic and Kaleesh were the same."

"And what look is that?"

"The look of one who hides everything," he said simply, turning to the door. She pressed her lips together, for that was exactly what her life had been about. "We will eat briefly with a few members of the Jedi. Then we'll move to the Senate chambers."

"May I eat alone?" she asked, imagining taking off her veil in front of a community of Jedi.

Arna piped in. "It's okay, Ru. These are good people. They won't make fun of you."

It'd be great to see that. "I'm not very nice to look at."

"I don't think that's true," D'oon said, pressing the code to unlock the door.

"I know that's not true," his former protégé declared passionately. "Even so, passing judgment is forbidden. We do not care about species here."

She lowered her gaze. "So be it, then." Hands shaking, she pulled her facial veil downward, so it hung beneath her chin.

Like the rest of the Temple, the dining room was large but sparsely decorated. Dim lights illuminated a large round disk, and crisp sunlight from Coruscant's sky poured through a sky window. Between ten and twenty seats surrounded this table, and a large podium resided at the back of the room.

All of this decór was strange to her. Even on Mandalore, she and Arna had eaten on the floor at a squat table, just like back home. The idea of sitting propped up was a new experience.

Well, no harm in trying, she thought with a rueful smile. She would tell Qymaen all about her adventures once she saw him again. She could almost hear his voice, quiet and deep, in her ears—his hands tracing the outline of her spine….

She pressed the memory of his face aside, for she dared not get sidetracked. Several other robed beings walked into the dining area out of the other doors. Some came over and patted D'oon on the back, shook Arna's hand, and complimented him on becoming a wise young man.

For the first time in her life, Ronderu got the invisibility she craved. But that lasted only a moment before Arna spoke to her. "You look like a statue."

She didn't know how to respond, but then he chuckled. "Come, sit."

"Is there room?"

"There's always room," he said, sitting down and beckoning her. She sat down; her tiny feet did not touch the floor.

"I feel your anxiety," Arna said.

"Get out of my head."

"Do you want me to hold your hand?"

Her eyes snapped to his. "Would you shut the huk up?"

He had no visible reaction. "See those people?" He pointed to two humans lingering in the entrance. One was a man in his thirties with shoulder-length hair and a scruffy beard. The other was a boy, barely an adult, with shorter and darker hair. One of those odd braids hung down his shoulder.

She nodded, and Arna continued. "Those people are Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. Obi-Wan killed a Sith Lord on Naboo nine years ago."

"A Sith Lord?"

"Don't you know what a Sith is?" he asked with a wry smile. "Your people had a few back in the days of the Old Republic—Saes Rrogon is the best-known."

She stared blankly at him, but he recognized that trying to educate her now was futile. He pointed to the younger man. "That's his Padawan. He's the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force."

"How do you know?"

"He's got the highest connection to the Force we know of, even higher than the Grand Master."

She gave a wry smile. "And how do you know that?"

"The gods blessed Anakin."

She tilted her head. "You Jedi believe in the gods?"

"No, but I just thought I'd put it in terms easier for you to grasp."

She rolled her eyes. "What do the Jedi call destiny?"

"The will of the Force."

A chuckle. "Is it the will of the Force for Anakin to bring balance?"

He nodded. "Exactly."

"So….you're guessing."

Arna, frustrated, turned away as the men took their seats. She studied the younger boy. Skywalker. Sky-blue eyes. Skywalker.

To her shock, Skywalker spoke to her. "I haven't seen you before. Who are you?"

She spoke softly."Ru." He was handsome and had the same innocent look as Qymaen. His voice was quiet, somewhat monotone. Why was he the only one here who used flatness when he spoke?

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Not important," she said, shutting down the conversation.

"Don't be a heel," Arna chided, and she rolled her eyes. To the Jedi sitting at the table, he spoke. "Public Service Announcement. This is my associate for the time being—Ru san Jinn."

Several waves and smiles passed to Ronderu. The same Temple associates she'd seen at the gate filed in, setting food on the table—various food concoctions and drinks, but a notable absence of meat. Who would forego eating meat? Too easy to catch.

The food was passed around, and a somber air descended over the Jedi as they took small amounts, careful to spare enough for everyone else.

Her eyes went to Arna's plate, where he'd placed even less food than usual, and he passed it to her. "Zereg eggs," he said. "I bet you'll love them." She placed an amount the same size as his on the plate and passed the serving platter onward but did not touch the meal.

The meal was eaten in a quiet void. It was strange, as she'd grown up used to the noise. From the time she'd been young, she'd listened to the singing of Kaleesh dancing around the fire, of great bards telling tales of victory, and eventually the bloodied screams of the Qymaili as they perished.

The meal ended, and she'd still only eaten a small portion. But she couldn't stay here any longer. Arna's voice called to her— "Come back!" But she was already walking away.

As she stepped into the bustling hallway, Anakin's voice reached her ears. "You left your escort behind."

"Just as you've left yours."

"Are you a Jedi?"

"No. But I've…." she sighed, admitting the truth to one she barely knew. "I've buried my feelings."

"You're too old to train. It's a shame—you're a better Jedi than I'll ever be."

And without another word, he rushed away and rejoined his master.

Ronderu walked back into the foyer, where Arna hastily stuffed the last dishware into the trash hatch. He sighed. "Ready to head over to the Senate Hall?"

She stuffed her hands into her pockets and nodded slowly, and they walked out of the Temple to a speeder. She still longed to pore over the library books, but that would have to wait for another time.

As they boarded the speeder, she swallowed hard. "How young do you have to be to join the Jedi Order?"

"Usually, we take infants only," Arna said. "We could run a midi-chlorian test on your blood after the hearing, but I doubt that—"

"I'm sure I'm not," she interrupted. All the power in the world could not tear her from Qymaen's embrace….but at the same time, being a Jedi was not about control. It was about using your knowledge and gifts to help the galaxy. Why would she logically turn such a proposition down? It would be the time of her life—flying around with Arna, making the universe safer and more prosperous.

But she loved Qymaen too much. Every moment away from him hurt her.

"Not everyone has what it takes to be a Jedi," Arna said. "Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness."

"I know that," she said quietly, envisioning the kindness of her friends.

He cleared his throat and continued. "If you're wondering about Anakin, he was taken in when he was nine. Master Qui-Gon believed him to be the Chosen One, so the Council made an exception."

She breathed out. "He was the only one?"

A shrug. "Attachments get in the way. Imagine what would happen if someone seized the power of the Force to save someone they love—they might use it for evil in the process. Emotions cloud people's judgment."

"But that's not always true," she pointed out. "My fiancé—he's very emotional. He uses it for good, not for evil. And without attachments, how can he love me?"

"It'll come back to bite him," Arna said, his hand tightening around the wheel as they docked at the Senate port. His eyes glittered with sadness and—jealousy? "It always does."

He helped her out of the speeder, and they walked to the entrance. She stared at her hands as he spoke to the Senate security guards, assuring them that she was with him.

She let out a regulated breath through her mouth. When she had her gloves on, she could almost fool herself into believing she was not married to metal. But the numbness was routine, no matter how she tried to stifle or cover it.

She pushed the idea out of her head as she and Arna passed a few Jedi Masters and senators. He punched a code into the door, and they walked out onto a balcony along the rim of the Senate Hall.

She studied the landscape as the senators began filing in, representatives from all species groups and communicating in different dialects of Basic, moving to their pods as the lights came on. Her lungs contracted, and she swallowed, searching for Qymaen.

How perfect it would be when his warm lips locked against hers, his breath fluttered against her face, and his dark hands entwined with hers—no matter how many times they'd done it.

But so much had changed in the past year that she was unsure if they were still compatible—her Mandalorian accent and modifications were scary indicators that he had been swallowed whole by the Republic.

He'll make it work—he's never cared about people's oddities.

Arna's comment about the Yam'rii rumors that Qymaen had married and delivered his first child on Abbaji Minor repeated in her head. Blinking away the hated tears that had sprung forth from her eyes, she focused on the central podium as it was raised.

"Ru," Arna said. "Come here." She obeyed, and he bent to her height. "You're not okay."

"Don't worry about me."

He pressed a hand to her veiled cheek. "I'm a bad Jedi sometimes." The peaceful feeling from his hands tingled, and she closed her eyes at the release of tension. Her hands worked to clasp themselves within Arna's in a gesture of pure friendship. And for a brief moment, he squeezed them back.

The central podium came to a halt. Chancellor Sheev Palpatine, surrounded by his advisors, smiled at the senators wearily as they cheered. A cold feeling jutted up her bones as she was strangely reminded of how the piety of the Kaleesh often went too far in such regard.

She studied the figures on the podium further. Besides Palpatine and his advisors, she caught the distinctive form of T'Chooka D'oon and another master, of whom she couldn't pinpoint the species. They murmured briefly to each other before the Chancellor stepped forward and spoke to the crowd.

"My most humble greetings, senators," he said. "The chair recognizes the senator from Huk."

Snappy and to the point. Thank the gods.

The mantis-like creature spoke in a strident tone of Basic. "We are here," she shouted, "to present our case and vindicate our people!" An accolade rang out from the sedentary pods, and she spoke again. "I charge the khagan of Kalee, Qymaen jai Sheelal, with offensive warmongering and attack on our home system."

Ronderu splayed out her perception to find Qymaen. Reach beyond the physical, Arna had told her. Seeing him, she tried to get his attention, but his eyes were downcast. Were there other people in the pod with him?

"Focus," Arna whispered sharply from beside her.

"—We saw him come to Abbaji Minor on this useless crusade not two months ago," the senator from Huk was saying. "He burned our capital city to the ground. He instituted Kaleesh rule over the whole planet. And to top it all off, he married there and bore a child on our holy grounds! Hilaha! Disgraceful."

She scoffed. "And then," the senator continued, "his associates went after Elke and Tovarskl too! Even though that place is so barren there would be nothing of worth to them, they sacked both planets and took our burning carcasses as their meals."

Now Ronderu was confident the senator was lying—followers of Amidral considered eating sentient beings blasphemous—and brimmed with joy. That must mean he's lying about Qymaen's marriage.

Anna smiled softly beside her, and she was sure he would allow it. Just a few more hours…

The senator clicked her pincers and stared directly at the Chancellor and jury with beady eyes. "I rest my case." She floated her pod back to its resting place.

Chancellor Palpatine typed a few notes into his computer. "The chair recognizes the representative of Kalee, Qymaen jai Sheelal."

Qymaen's voice boomed around the room, more profound than she remembered. "My gratefulness for your permission to plead my case cannot be overstated. I am quite aware of these allegations against Kalee. They are true."

Gasps and cursing filled the auditorium. Qymaen cleared his throat and continued. "I did go after the Huk system. But Senator Kitik has lied to your faces and has a crime of perjury on her hands. This war may have ended with my 'offensive warmongering' upon the Huk system. But they failed to mention that these planets were taken from the Kaleesh, who owned them."

Ronderu frowned as he hesitated a bit. He was still not well-versed in Basic, which was to his disadvantage with appearing as a civilized being. "Additionally, this attack was planned in response to generations of offensive warmongering upon Kalee, in an attempt to turn us into their slaves. I rest my case."

She swallowed. Now. Please. Arna nodded begrudgingly, and she made for the door.

Mas Amedda stepped forward. "The Senate will allow a brief rest period before it reconvenes."

Arna's voice was calm as they stood in the foyer. "I'll be outside once you're ready to leave—I need to check on the ship." She nodded, and they parted ways.

A rough banging sound crashed outside, followed by a growl. "Jedi segserne." She translated the words as Jedi scum, gasping at the voice that had said it.

No. It can't be. She bolted to her feet and quickened her pace, walking outside to see Bent helping Qymaen to his feet.

She walked up to them and spoke in Basic. "Did someone knock you down?"

"A Jedi just stormed out of the other room and knocked me down," Qymaen replied in the same tongue, irritation in his voice. "Are you lost?"

Doesn't he recognize me? "No," she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. "I'm with him."

"Excuse me," Bent said, looking to an exit of the Senate Hall. "I must attend to the izvoshra. Coming along?"

"I'll stay here," Qymaen said, faintly smiling beneath his mask. "Thank you." Their friend exited the room, and the two of them were alone.

"You are Kaleesh," he stated simply. "Why is your accent Mandalorian?"

"I've….I've been with the Mandalorians for a while." Why doesn't he recognize me?

He caught her stare. "Is there something on my mask?"

A strip of cloth was wrapped around his head, spotted with dull maroon. "You're injured," she whispered. "Sheelal—"

"I'm not going by that name anymore."

She cocked her head. "But the Chancellor called you that."

"Unfortunately."

"Well, then, what should I call you?"

"Khetsuu."

She swallowed. The grievous one. "Can we speak alone?"

"I'm afraid I can't just talk to any random stranger," he said. "Not till my second-in-command gets back here, anyway."

Any random stranger. Tears stung her eyes like hornets' needles, but she blinked them away. "I'm not just any random stranger. You know me."

He chuckled. "How would I? Nobody's left Kalee since….I don't even know how long."

She gripped his hand, but he pulled away as if he'd been burned. "Don't touch me like that."

A heavy weight slammed into her chest. "Qymaen, listen to me!"

His eyes widened at the use of his first name, and he beckoned her to stand against the wall and spoke quietly in her ear. "Who are you?"

She trembled. "I…." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I'm Ronderu. Ronderu lij Kummar."

Eyes wide, he fumbled for the fabric concealing her face. Her cheeks were cold as he lifted her veil away. Harsh awareness about the gauntness of her cheeks dawned on her as he studied her for a long moment.

His hands and shoulders dropped. "I….I apologize for my behavior."

"Qymaen, it's me. Do I have to slap you to prove it?"

He stepped away. "I don't trust my senses anymore," he murmured. "I see her everywhere." He gently fastened the veil back across her face, then bowed slightly. "I pray you will someday forgive me for my actions."

"Qymaen, I want you. Hold me."

"You can't be her," he said more insistently. "She would have never run off with the Mandalorians….she would have fought every guard to come home to be with me…." With each word, his voice slurred more and more, and he began to stumble. "My head…."

Without warning, he fell forward and collapsed in her arms. Her body slammed to the ground. His head pressed to her bosom, and she forced herself not to cry.

The drumming of his heart relieved her so profoundly that she might have if Bent hadn't burst through the door immediately. "Madam, what happened?"

"I….I don't know. He just passed out."

He stepped down and lugged him off of her. "Think it's a side-effect of his injuries," the commander said gently. "He's been passing out spontaneously since his skull was fractured. He'll be up in a few."

As he was walking away, she caught up to him. "Bent," she said. "I need to talk to you. He wouldn't listen to me, but I know you will."

He whistled at the door, and three other soldiers marched in. Bent spoke to them in quick Kaleesh. The soldiers took him back to the ship.

Bent knelt to her height. "I know."

"You….you do?"

"Anyone sane can recognize you from a mile away, Ronderu."

"Don't call me that here," she said. "It's not safe. Call me Ru instead."

He nodded and cast his eyes downward. "I didn't believe it when I spotted you with the Jedi—he knocked Qymaen down for some reason; I think you heard the noise—but now I am convinced. Somehow the idea of you surviving never seemed impossible." A sigh. "Qymaen won't believe it….he's been a mess without you."

"I saw," she said flatly.

"He won't listen to me." Bent sighed. "He's slowly deteriorating. I don't know how to stop it."

She sensed that he was holding something back. "Tell me, Bent."

"Well…." he looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Ru, but…."

"Spit it out," she said.

"He's married already. The Khaganate legalized polygyny after we retook Kaleela, and….he acted on that opportunity. He thinks you're dead."

Only emptiness whistled past Ronderu's walls. "He did deliver his first child on Abbaji Minor, then," she said, breathing out. "Don't tell him, then—I shouldn't have tried."

"Why not?"

"He's already replaced me," she said, her eyes downcast.

"But Ru, if he knew—"

"Either he would divorce his wives—wrong—or he would choose me as a favorite—also wrong." She cut off the words, And I want him to love me alone.

She might as well be wrought from stone, but her thoughts carried bitter words. She couldn't decide whom they were directed at—Qymaen or his wives. "I'm disappearing," she said, turning away.

"We need you back home," Bent said. "Qymaen still needs you."

"He'll learn to be strong," she said, her tone turning from cool to frosty. "He'll survive."

"Ru—"

But she was already walking away, betrayal burning in her mind but never touching her heart of iron. She focused on the clanking of her cybernetic leg. Nothing from outside could hurt her anymore.

The announcement to reconvene in the auditorium sounded, and Qymaen was still not back. Before Bent had placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, Ronderu had sensed him coming up behind her.

"Are you still coming back to Kalee?"

She didn't turn around. "I don't know. I may stay on Coruscant." What if the Jedi Council made an exception? Would they train another late-bloomer? The idea of laying down attachments and embracing the Jedi way no longer seemed so repulsive to her.

A long silence stood between them, and then her friend hugged her, understanding his strength and avoiding overuse. "Think on it," he said quietly. "I must see if Qymaen is fit to appear before the Senate again. Goodbye." He exited the auditorium.

"Order! We will have ORDER!" Mas Amedda shouted from his stand.

The prattle died down, and Chancellor Palpatine stepped forward. "Senators, the jury is eager to deliver results on the decision."

From across the room, the enormous form of Bent helped Qymaen into his Senate pod. Voices shot like a million blasters firing at once as senators hurled suggestions at D'oon and the other Jedi on the jury. Many squabbled with each other, urging them to side with Huk instead of the Kaleesh, who were uncivilized beasts. Ronderu's head ached from the chatter.

A woman's voice rang out from the chair marked Naboo. "Senators! We haven't even conducted an investigation!"

"Unfortunately, Senator Amidala," a nasal voice to her left replied in a condescending tone, "Kalee chose to leave the Republic ages ago. We cannot investigate without first consulting the planetary government."

"Then let the khagan speak," Amidala replied. "Let him authorize this investigation before we punish the Kaleesh people based on only half-truths."

Ronderu wrinkled her nose. Was this how the Senate operated? Did they just shout as loudly as possible and hope they validated their opinions?

"ORDER!" Mas Amedda bellowed, but the Senate continued mudslinging. He slammed his staff on the ground. "We will have ORDER!"

"Senators, please," Chancellor Palpatine said gently, a small smile touching his lips. The Senate calmed down almost immediately; his effect on them was alien. "The Senate will hear from Jedi Masters T'Chooka D'oon and Jmmaar."

D'oon stepped up to the stand. "The jury has decided that the account of Huk is truthful."

Her face twisted into a scowl. Far be it from me to think otherwise. What do you want, a medal?

Jmmaar continued, his crustacean-like form clicking on the podium. "Khagan Sheelal has been shown to have a faulty mind before. Evidenced by the….rather brutal murder of the governor at the Battle of Kaleela, he is quite unstable and therefore much less likely to recount the events of the Huk War accurately."

"How did you know about Kaleela?" Qymaen's voice boomed from his pod, but Ronderu refused to turn her eyes his way.

"Huk delivered its full detailing much earlier than now," Jmmaar continued blithely. "Ever since the unfortunate passing of your companion, you have been prone to outbursts and instability. Additionally….hallucinations." His face was grim. "You know that the Yam'rii have had ire against you for several years."

"The Khaganate will authorize an investigation," Qymaen cried. "Didn't one of the senators propose that? Kalee will get the Republic's soldiers on our soil. My people will not be subject to more brutality based on a lie!"

"Sheelal," Palpatine admonished, "you have not been permitted to speak."

Qymaen bowed his head and spoke through gritted teeth. "Humble apologies, Your Excellency. It slipped my mind that the king is used to his subjects obeying his every order."

Palpatine ignored the comment. "The Senate has decreed a punishment upon Kalee for its crimes of offensive warfare. A sanction of twenty-five billion credits upon your planet shall be imposed due to the office of the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic."

Qymaen chuckled. "Kalee doesn't use Republic currency. These sanctions are meaningless."

"Of course," Palpatine said, shadows splayed across his old face, "there are….other ways to extract our dues. Other more effective methods."

A pregnant pause in the Hall and Ronderu scowled. What is he implying? Why would he try to provoke a society of warriors?

"Slavery," Qymaen growled. "You want to enslave us just like the Huk tried to do."

"It is your choice," the Chancellor replied smoothly. "It always was."

And for once, Qymaen was silent. His expression, concealed by the mask, was pointless for Ronderu to attempt to read.

Khetsuu dizzily walked into the hallway. Perhaps he could pay off Kalee's debt. Twenty-five billion credits was a meager bill to pay; the Republic spent twice that every day and never batted an eye about it.

Wild Space might refuse to trade with us.

No, they will refuse to trade with us. What nation would, after this fiasco?

A hand pressed onto his shoulder. "Excuse me—Sheelal, was it?"

He turned around, realizing he'd been holding his breath, and let it out slowly. A female human about his age stood behind him, her eyes kind. "Naboo will help you," she said evenly. "If I can get approval, we're on your side—"

He wrenched away. The idea of trading with Nubians was repulsive to him. "I submit to no one."

Arna was at the bay, fiddling with a white cylinder of some sort. When she drew near, it was tucked away. "Bad news?"

She lowered her eyes and nodded, stuffing her emotions downward. "I need to talk to you about something."

His eyes darted to hers. "Me too."

"I'm going first." She sighed. "I….I want to become a Jedi."

"No, you don't," he said immediately, but his sapphire eyes gleamed with sudden interest. "Becoming a Jedi is not the way to deal with hurt feelings. You would have to give up your feelings for the khagan, you'd have to pledge yourself to avoid attachment, and you would never be able to marry or have children." He stepped toward her. "You're too...amazing to be able to live that life, Ru."

"I'm fine. And I can handle it." She clenched her fists, recalling the arium sumeen she'd heard about on Kalee. But what was the Basic phrase? "Temple guards," she said. "They don't have to be infants. Run a midi-chlorian test on me."

A pause. "We're going to talk about this once we're back at the Temple," he said softly. "Come into the speeder. I'll take you there."

"Too low," Madame Jocasta Nu said, her frail voice mildly amused.

"Too low?" Ronderu dabbed the spot where she'd extracted blood with a wipe.

"You must be sensitive to be a Temple guard," Arna explained. "Being a sensor isn't going to cut it."

There's no way.

She set her head on the table. Her regulator worked hard to breathe for her.

"Let's go back to Mandalore, Ru."

She stood, nodding, and did not allow Arna to touch her even as they boarded his ship to take them back home.

The days on Mandalore passed like fleeting dreams to Ronderu. Her daily movements—showering, eating, using the refresher—were robotic and lifeless. But it was not until three months passed that Arna finally mentioned it to her.

As she lay on her cot, facing the wall, he bent down and stroked her damp hair. "We need to take you to a doctor."

"I don't need a doctor," she replied stiffly. But her body itched with shed scales due to lack of food (she had become complacent on Mandalore, expecting three meals a day; weak, weak, her brain screamed). Her shoulders trembled with bone-crunching cold, yet her head was burning up.

"Take a blanket, at least," he said, pressing on her shoulder blades to get her to sit up. He gently pushed her to the wall and laid a heavy blanket across her shoulders. "I got this for you."

"You didn't have to." Her voice was little more than a croak.

He touched her forehead. "You're very sick."

"I'm fine."

"No, you aren't," he said. "It's not some normal bout of grief."

She reached under her shirt and scratched off more tiny gold diamonds. "It's….it's not something a doctor can fix," she murmured.

He slid his arm beneath her knees and back, lifting her gently. She rested her veiled face against the brown fabric of his robe. "I know. But I'm right here."

He walked out and gently set her in his speeder's passenger seat. "We're going to see Alma," he said. "She'll help you."

"Denied again!" Khetsuu snapped, tearing the legal documents in half. He set his head on his desk in the khagan's office—the last legal client from Wild Space.

His elite stood around the room: Four bondsmen and four noble women, now all his wives. Eight, his izvoshra, his sacred soldiers. He pointed at Naidvar, a lady soldier carrying a pack of Shoni spears on her back. "Assess the marketplaces at Kaleela and Bos'wellia."

Naidvar left the room. "Leave me," Khetsuu said wearily. "I must be alone for a while." They did as he commanded, except for Bentilais san Sk'ar.

Khetsuu rotated his chair to the tremendous green-tinted window that looked out over the marketplace of Kalee. His friend came across the room and laid a hand over his. A sigh exited Khetsuu's mouth. "You're free to go, Sk'ar."

"I must stay behind," Bent replied. He sighed. "Qymaen, these marriages are unhealthy. Have you forgotten the one you loved to begin with?"

"Ronderu is gone." Saying the words was lifeless, a simple fact of life.

"I'm referring to Shia. All these wives you've taken….sleeping with every woman in the izvoshra…."

A sharp knife stabbed through Khetsuu's gut, and he clenched his jaw. My shame. My fault. It was such a blur….and then I was kissing them…. The memories scorched through his head of forgetting his failure because of the Republic, saving Ronderu, and being an excellent husband to Shia. And gods, the pleasures of nightfall when he was cold but so warm….they faded with the morning dawn….

Although she could never know the horrible things he had done, the silent weeping into Shia's arms was a blotch of blood on his heart. His affairs must remain secret. If he told anyone, he would be stripped of his khagan's status and lashed for immodesty.

Seven women he'd slept with. To cover his shame, he had married each of them—he'd already impregnated nearly all of them and brought their children with them.

The total of children in his care, between the little ones and those on the way, was now twenty-nine. Twenty-nine he had to care for to ensure they were safe, fed, and happy. All because he had been so selfish.

He bit his tongue. "I married them. No harm done."

"Shia would beg to differ."

His eyes darted to his friend's. "Does she know?"

A deep chuckle. "Of course not. But both of us know secrets are damning to a relationship."

"Ronderu kept hers from me for a long time."

"And you two didn't come close to each other until she confessed them."

Fair point. "Shia hates me anyway," he said, almost to himself. "She's cold, distant."

A deep chuckle. "She loves you, Qymaen. She loves you more than you'll ever know."

"How do you know all this?"

"Intuition."

Khetsuu, fed up with how his friend tiptoed around the question, rested his hands against his face. "There's something wrong with me. I'm so angry. And I don't know what to do with it."

After a while, Bent replied. "You'll have to learn to be a father, raising a child in this environment. That'll test your abilities." He cast a warm smile. "That's what I learned when I took you in."

Khetsuu pressed his teeth to his hand. Bent's words reminded him of Shia, wasting away at home. Shia had trouble nursing Rón properly because of malnutrition. Shia, whom he'd been neglecting ever since he'd married those other women.

"There's something else I need to talk to you about," Bent said. "This is an even more serious matter. I saw you faint over that girl in the foyer on Coruscant. Do you remember her?"

How could I forget when she carries the face of Ru? But he kept this retort to himself and nodded.

Bent sighed. "I see Ronderu in her as well. She did survive."

Khetsuu's hands trembled beneath his seat. His lungs were stiff, and he couldn't force himself to breathe.

But for the loneliness, despite having ten women in his arms, the desire to claw out the scalps of every Jedi in the Grand Republic—he might have believed his friend.

"I can't accept that," he said, turning away.

"Why not?" Bent protested firmly.

"It doesn't make sense. Why would she keep the truth from me?" Khetsuu shot back. "If she wants to speak to me, let her come out and tell me herself!"

"She did talk to you."

He shook his head and crushed his eyes shut. "That was a hallucination. Her accent was Mandalorian. Did Ronderu ever speak Mando'a?"

"You're being unreasonable!"

Khetsuu's voice came out in a strangled howl, and he threw himself at Bent, but his friend was too fast. Grabbing him by the cowl, he slammed him against the wall. His voice left his lungs, and he crumpled to the ground.

His lungs burning from the blow, Khetsuu coughed out one more retort. "I would know if she was alive. She would…." cough— "never hide from me."

But instead of responding, Bent's surly look turned away from him as the giant marched out the door.

Ronderu was embarrassed to be carried like a baby as Arna stepped into the clinic. "I'm here to see Alma Gray," he said to the receptionist.

"What for?"

"Sick patient with me."

"I'm not sick," she muttered.

"You're light enough for me to carry," he replied simply, taking a seat once they'd checked her in.

It seemed like a lifetime before the small girl with mousy brown hair and cerulean eyes walked into the room. "Well, look who turned up," she said in a friendly drawl. "Come back. I'll see what's going on."

After a moment, Alma sighed. "There is not much I know about her species," she said sadly. "We have such small quantities of information regarding the Kaleesh."

"Is there anything you can prescribe for her?" Arna said. "I don't wish to get Kalee angrier by killing off one of their own by accident."

Reasonable, Ronderu thought. Alma pulled off one of her peeling scales, which was painless as far as she was concerned. "Have you been sleeping properly?"

"Enough so I can focus."

"Drinking enough?"

"Enough to sustain me."

"What about eating?"

"I eat enough to keep me alive," she said firmly. "Why do you care?"

"We want to know why your scales are peeling off," Arna said. "That's not normal."

Damn it, Jedi. Thanks for that insight. "What about depression?" Alma asked.

"I am fine," she snapped.

Alma laughed gently. "You don't particularly look the part." She took a mirror and held it up to Ronderu's face.

Ronderu sighed. Patches of scales had fallen off her face, revealing bright pink flesh underneath. Her face was sucked in and hollow around her eyes.

Arna spoke again in Mando'a, and Alma frowned. They exchanged a few words, and she spoke. "I think what you're struggling with is homesickness."

She lowered her head, feeling like she'd swallowed a sharp thorn. I miss my home. But her home was already lodging other women. It was nothing that could be fixed.

Alma slipped a hand beneath her chin. "When was the last time you were on Kalee?"

This question she could answer; she'd been counting the days. "A year and three months."

"You've never left Kalee before, correct?"

"Correct."

Alma spoke to her brother. "Take her to her homeworld. Stay there for a few weeks, then come back to Mandalore."

"I can't. I have Jedi business."

"The Jedi business must wait if your patient is to survive," Alma said gently.

Arna gave a small, uneasy smile. "The Huk War is over now. Kalee is safe?"

"It should be," Ronderu said. "My friend is the khagan, so—"

"But he doesn't remember you," Arna interrupted, and she frowned. "I can get us there in a few days."

"Very well," Alma said, hugging him. They left the clinic immediately.

Did you know…

● Yes, I'll admit it. Anakin's cameo was pure fanservice. But what's a Star Wars fanfiction without the Chosen One?

● My favorite Star Wars AT idea is a Padmé/Grievous friendship (bolded for emphasis) AT. Sadly, it was not meant to be in this AT. But if you write it, I will read the crap out of it.

● It was no coincidence that Chancellor Palpatine was the one who sanctioned Kalee. Several times in both Canon and Legends sources, he states that he had plans for Grievous to be a part of the Clone War long before it ever happened.

Tell me what you think…

● Is Anakin right about Ronderu? Would she make a good Jedi?

● Do you think the "no attachments" and "compassion" teachings of the Jedi are contradictory? Why or why not?

● Would you have been content to become a Jedi after being rejected by a loved one?