"Here," Arna said, thrusting a suitcase at her. "How many robes should I bring?"

She smiled. "You can wash them in the springs. Bring three or four."

"In the springs? Kalee doesn't have running water?"

"Water runs, Arna. In the springs."

"Whatever." He sighed. "Where on Kalee are you from, anyway?"

A sigh. "Grendaju. Tiny island on the southern tip, so dress warmly."

"What tribe?"

She hesitated. "They were killed."

"Every one of them?"

"Men, women, and children. I'm the last of the Qymaili. But there are still people of Grendajese ethnicity there."

"Is the island inhabited?"

"Absolutely," she said. A daze rested in her mind. I'm going home. I'm going back to Kalee at last. Even now, the first thing that darted to her head was the face of her Qymaen. She could not fool herself into believing she could live away from him for long.

Arna tensed again. "Who controls it now?"

"The Yamikhi tribe," she said, examining the furs packed for her. "When the Yam'rii came to Grendaju and killed off the last of the Qymaili, they brought in the Kunbali prisoners they'd caught from the equator and forced them to learn the Huk language. The result of Kaleesh mouths speaking the Huk tongue made a pidgin language and a new group with it."

She exhaled through her mouth giddily. "Six years ago, Qymaen and I..."

She stopped, her throat closing at the memories of seeing her birthplace again. Qymaen's fur-wrapped hands clutched his beloved Czerka rifle as the Kharankhui forces fought to liberate the captured Kunbali tribes, his lips pressed to her bloodied forehead as their wearied troops cheered.

And, of course, memories of delicately sliding snowballs down his shirt and snickering as he screamed bloody murder into the icy void of Grendaju.

Arna huffed and jolted her out of her thoughts. "Can you speak Yamikhi?"

She shrugged. "A bit, but that's all we'll need."

He nodded. "Eat this while I pack the ship."

Ronderu never thought she would see an air-traffic control station hovering over Kalee. I suppose that conquering the Yam'rii planets gave the Khaganate some opportunities, she thought ruefully. Qymaen had likely built this for commercial purposes, yet no other ships were being checked at air-traffic control.

They are poor, she said. We are poor.

Arna rested his palm over hers. Nothing romantic. It's just a gesture of friendship. "It'll be okay. Can you translate?"

"Certainly." She stood, inhaled, and spoke in Kaleesh. The words rolled off her tongue awkwardly. "Permission to dock at the Bos'wellia spaceport."

"Insert your names and IDs now," a male voice said from the other side.

"I don't have an ID," she hissed at Arna after she'd searched for the Basic. "That was before Kalee required them."

"Well, you can register under mine," he said. "Register as my wife….or something."

"Go to hell." She stepped up to the microphone again. "This is a native of Kalee. I was displaced before the time when Kalee issued IDs. You may register me under the name Ru san Jinn."

A pause. "Very well. You may have to go to the Khanate of your tribe to receive a proper ID. As for your male passenger?"

"He comes but does not understand Kaleesh," Ronderu said. Arna stepped upward and scanned his wrist under the proper area.

"You two are registered for transport." A hint of laughter. "But stay away from Kaleela, Jedi segserne. Khagan Khetsuu is not happy with you."

"I am quite aware," Arna said softly. "Thank you." He steered the ship downward and toward the entrance port of Bos'wellia.

A cold sigh ushered through the rooms in a house with eleven parents and many tiny bodies forming within the wombs of the women who resided there. Khetsuu gently pried his wife's arms from his body, tucked the blankets back over her, and stood.

There's a presence here on Kalee.

He wrapped himself in his linens, pulled on his robe, and stumbled out into one of the halls of his home. The Kaleela lodge had to be expanded due to the number of people the Jai dynasty now contained.

Shia occupied the couch in the standard room. Rón rested on her breastbone as she sucked her little thumb. When his wife saw him, her eyes grew cloudy with sorrow.

She loves you, Bent had said. She loves you more than you'll ever know.

After having married nine other women, he was convinced she was the only one who did. The others saw him as merely an idol—it had been their fantasy to one day be wed to the great hero of the Huk War. But how many of them know who I truly love? How many of them even care?

Shia spoke. "Rón's grown thin. I fear we may go off-world to find proper care for her."

She made room for him and curled up beneath his shoulder. It was a moment in which he could almost pretend they were a couple again, just the two. Life had been so much simpler then.

"The off-world is a dangerous place," he said. "There is nowhere I could go."

"She'll die without proper care." His wife's voice quavered.

"I don't want it to happen," he said after a moment. "But I'm hated by the Republic, and I couldn't provide for you if you left." He sighed. "I'll figure something out. I have to be alone for a while." He stood to leave.

"Wild Space has forsaken us, hasn't it?" Shia said without looking up.

"No," he replied immediately. The lie burned his tongue, but he stifled it. Enduring pain is a noble act. Keeping her from feeling it—how much more.

"There's something you haven't learned yet," Shia said, her voice harder than diamond. She set their sleeping child down and stood. "Kummar refused to drill even the simplest ideas into your head."

The flame rose to an inferno. "If you insult her again—"

"I will not be shy about the fact that she was a temptress," Shia snapped. "It was right in her name."

"You didn't even know her!" His voice reverberated throughout the room, thunderous and wrathful.

She shrunk back with a scowl. "I knew enough!"

A weapon. I need a gun. But not for self-defense—Shia may be taller than him, but she was weak from lack of food. He could crush her like a toothpick. And for a moment, he wanted to. The crack of her bones and her screaming, the blood pooling beneath that translucent human skin, flashed across his mind.

Rón began to cry and wobbled, gripping the wall for support. Shia picked up the baby and held her close to her breast. "Spouses always figure out the truth eventually."

He paused at the doorway, longing to take back the long nights he'd spent wasting himself. But like Jenuwaa, the Coruscant negotiations that had doomed Kalee to economic despair—and already his own family felt it—those nights were there to stay—burned into his mind, heart, and skin.

He wanted to leave his old self behind. He longed to start again.

"I know," he said, his voice wrought with shame as he exited the room.

Arna parked the ship in a small spaceport, and the two exited onto the snowy expanse of Grendaju. The island where Ronderu had been born and reared was only eighty kilometers in length and fifty kilometers in breadth and used to house the largest Grendajese tribe on Kalee, the Qymaili.

The Yamikhi—a tribe, composed of various Kunbali tribes that had been left to starve by the Yam'rii—went about their business. While it had been almost seven years since she'd set foot on Grendajese soil, the air had never felt so….mournful.

Arna set a hand on her shoulder. "I brought us something to eat."

"There's plenty of food here."

He shook his head. "Can't you see it?"

Women were slumped against the walls of the enormous trees where small businesses had once bustled and thrived; men shivered in only their linens, clutching their offspring close to their chests.

These were sick people. Weak, their golden faces sunken, and their eyes bloodshot.

A cry sounded from beside Ronderu—the roar of a girl her age getting dragged off by a group of muscular men. "Give me your lightsaber," she said firmly.

"I can't," he said. "It's a Jedi weapon."

But before he could stop her, she snatched the blade from his belt and went after the men.

The green rod of light flashed from the hilt: logic, Ronderu. Calm yourself. If you kill them, you'll have to face Khetsuu and be banished from Kalee.

Qymaen.

Khetsuu.

The saber, missing his heart, lopped off the hand. The traffickers stopped and stared at her. As stars specked her vision and her regulator tried to catch up to her heartbeat, she looked the amputee in the eye. "Let her go," she gasped in Kaleesh.

The man's eyes suddenly brightened, and he let go of the girl, who shivered in the snow. She, too, had been exposed to the cold when she was young.

The three men bowed before her in the snow. "Our khaneme," one whispered, taking hold of her ankles in the form of submission. The amputee's stump bled onto the snow, and she searched his eyes for recognition.

"She's alive," another murmured.

"Kummar is back?" the amputee coughed. "I must alert Khetsuu."

"Who are you three?" she snapped, gesturing with Arna's saber.

"Former members of your cohort, my lady," the third man said. "We….I…." he swallowed. "We lost our places after your death….er, disappearance—"

"And who is this woman?" Ronderu said sharply.

"N….Naidvar, my lady," the woman said, curling up tighter in the snow. "Khaysi jai Naidvar."

"I see," she growled, the surname Jai echoing in her mind. "You three. You must treat it as a rumor if word gets out that Kummar is back. Say no words about my return. If you do…." she swung the saber. "There will be hell to pay with you. Am I clear?"

The men nodded vigorously and backed away. Ronderu took her in her arms and pressed her hand to the girl's cold cheek. "And you are one of his wives?"

"Yes, madam." She coughed. "You are….Kummar? I'd only heard legends about you. I….assumed you never existed. Forgive me, my lady."

Legends, she thought to herself. So Qymaen had never even mentioned her to his wives. "The legends were true," she said. "But I am no more than an illusion from the cold."

"An illusion…." Naidvar mumbled. Ronderu studied her aura and sensed three more small heartbeats with hers. The woman's pregnant. Oh, gods, what am I going to do? Deliver her to Qymaen? And now that she's recognized me, who knows how he'll receive me?

"Yes," she whispered. "I died at Jenuwaa."

"But then—how did you fend off the men?"

"The Force is strong with me," she said, as that appeared to be the standard Jedi answer. "What were they planning to do to you, young one?"

"Cannibals are roaming these parts," she said. "They are even worse up in the jungles, where it is harder to tell where they're coming from." She rested her head in Ronderu's lap. "Have….have you come to save us, Kummar?"

Ronderu longed to say yes to that question. But it was best not to live up to her byname as the deceiver. "I can't save Kalee anymore. That is up to Khetsuu."

"But he's failed us," she said.

"Not yet," Ronderu said firmly. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

It was rude for her to ask, but she didn't care. Naidvar paused, then nodded. "Stand. Where is your ship?"

"It's over there," Naidvar said, her teeth chattering. She pointed to a small shuttle, perhaps large enough for two or three people at most. "I'll be fine if I get some food. I'm due to report back to Kaleela soon."

Ronderu helped her to the doorway. The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "Give Qymaen my best regards."

"I….I will, Kummar," Naidvar said. "Goodbye." And with that, the ship left, and she was left alone.

It was only now that Arna came up to her. "My saber, please."

"Why didn't you stop me earlier?" She passed it back to him.

"I wanted to see if you were whom you claimed to be. If you were a warlord back here." He sighed. "I guess I was right…Kummar."

She sighed. "Nobody else can know, Arna. Not here, not in the Republic."

"Why not?"

"There's a boding sense even here….I have enemies on Kalee. And the Yam'rii certainly want me dead." Not wanting to belabor the point, she changed the subject. "There's some water," she said, pointing to a karabbac trough. "Let's get that food made, and then we can ride one of those creatures home."

Naidvar was relieved when her husband came out of the door, thin but still firm, smiling tiredly as he hugged her. "What happened at Bos'wellia?"

"Cannibals attacked me. They tried to carry me away...these times are no longer safe."

"Well, what saved you?" he asked as he led her inside. Saikhan's and Baruuna's children, numbering thirteen in all, played on the floor, making a perfect ruckus. Thanks to Kummar, Naidvar thought as she rested a hand on her softly rounding belly, she would someday have children of her own to join them.

"Naidvar," Khetsuu said, his voice more insistent. "I asked you a question."

"I….I don't know. I had a vision of Khaneme Kummar. She—"

"You….what?" he asked her, his voice deadly soft.

"Kummar. She appeared to me in a dream and fought the cannibals off with a green lightsaber. They had been her soldiers. She gave me strength, Khetsuu." She paused, trying to think about what she'd read on Kummar in the past. "Was she ever real? I always thought she was some sort of myth. But then—"

Khetsuu paced the room silently and stuffed his hands into the pockets on his khagan's regalia. Wasn't it true that Kummar had never been more than a fable intended to remind everyone of true power? Why was he so worked up about it if that had been the case?

"Speak to the izvoshra," he said after a long silence. "Tell them to monitor all actions within Bos'wellia. I want those rumors quelled."

"This food tastes weird," Arna said as Ronderu smoothed the sheets on their sleeping mats. They'd checked into a small inn, surprising the innkeeper by paying her at the double the usual rate and camping in a little room overlooking the Grendajese settlements.

She stared at the puff of bread. "It was made with water from a karabbac trough. Their saliva makes a good gravy, though."

His face turned the same color as his lightsaber blade, but he forced the food down. "Are you okay? I've heard that cold weather can cause depression."

She shook her head. "Grendaju was when I felt the most alive." A mother's scream by the sword. Blood on her robes. A village riot. "I should have come back sooner."

"Should we go to….where did you say you lived before you came to Mandalore?"

"Advar?" she chuckled. "That place is falling into the sea. Bos'wellia seems to be the least affected by the sanctions."

"How do you know?"

"The karabbacs are still alive," she said. "If all had been lost, they would have been slaughtered for food."

Arna rose smoothly. "Give it a couple of days," he said. "Get some rest now."

She turned to the wall but could not sleep. Another deep-buried memory fought to the surface of her mind: sleeping in Qymaen's arms on overnight missions away from the group, resting her cheek in the warm crevice of his sternum, and listening to his heartbeat sing her to sleep.

He would never have turned to polygamy if she had been his wife, meaning he didn't love any of his wives as he had loved her. He was probably just as lonely as she was right now, and he could also be dreaming about those warm nights and missing those times together just as much as she did, though she refused to admit it aloud.

But their love was not to be, for commitments had already been forged in stone. To demand a place in those commitments was selfish and unwise. He should be an excellent husband to those women, and her presence would only complicate matters.

At that moment, a significant burden was lifted from her chest. I forgive you. And someday, when we are older, perhaps we could be together again.

Even if it takes death to find you again, I will, sweet Qymaen.

The moon beat upon Khetsuu's dark face as Iminec set and silver took over gold. Sincerely he sang a long, lonely tune to the night sky. A plea of repentance to the gods for his thoughts about trying to hurt Shia. A terrified begging to change him, to save him from what he was becoming. Was it wrong to mourn Ronderu? Had taking the name Khetsuu been...wrong?

Two months later, Khetsuu saw four of his wives and five of his children off to the masking. The sacred festival was held deep in the Shrupak temple, where they would be stripped of their facial veils and given masks wrought from the bone of predators on Kalee. To every Kaleesh child, an eight-week retreat to the forest meant growing up.

"For the last time, you cannot come with us," Saikhan said icily, folding her arms across her waist. Small golden curls peeked out from her headdress, but her mask hid lost beauty; her pale scales had already begun to peel from lack of food, as had Khetsuu's own. "I will have the female izvoshra with me. We can ward off the cannibals."

The cannibals, Khetsuu thought as the children took turns hugging him, talking in the simple and babbling way that eight-year-olds did. Her previous husband, now dead, would have been so proud of her young ones.

The last girl, a little daughter, lifted his mask and kissed him on the nose, and he backed away for fear of harming her. Your drama is pretty damn cute, Button-Nose, Ronderu would say before ruffling his hair and giving a relaxed smile.

He stood and walked to Saikhan. "I am proud of you," he said quietly. "And of our children. They will serve us well."

She cast her gaze downward. Her thumb went up to his mask, removing it. "Oh, you too?" he quipped just before she tore her mask off and kissed him.

She pulled away. "Naidvar, Mergen, Lyankhua, and I will be back in two days. If we do not return, come looking for us."

"I will," he said if we do not return. He must stay home with everyone else; the other women would be fine. He had trained them.

Yet as they left, he wrung his hands, hiding them behind his back.

The sun set as Ronderu and Arna sat together on the peak of the inn. Three months had passed since he'd brought her to Grendaju, and her body was now strong and flourished with happiness. Her cybernetic fingers played with the veil of the headpiece she wore—a sheer covering but still modest enough.

Arna sighed through his nose. "I'm sorry...but we have to leave tomorrow."

Her eyes shot up to his. "Why?" she whispered. "We still have to help the khagan restore Kalee. That's my greatest goal."

"It's not as important as Jedi business."

She sighed. "More Jedi business?"

"Do you feel better, Ru?"

Better than I have in a long time. But she could not admit it aloud. "Don't take me away from my home," she said, her voice breaking. "Please..."

He hushed her. "We're going to Serenno, another jungle planet."

"Serenno," she repeated. The name sounded familiar. Kaleesh-Bitthævrian war. One of the generals fighting along Qymaen's third-mother was….

"Count Dooku," Arna finished for her. "The planet's leader. He wishes to see us."

"He's one of the only people who left the Jedi Order, right?"

Arna dipped his head, and a sheen of sadness appeared in his dark eyes. "He was one of my trainers when I was five or so. I haven't seen him in many years."

She nodded. "What does the Order want you to do?"

"There's nothing more than suspicion and rumor," Arna said. "I'm going just because he's an old friend, and—"

"Arna. Why is the Jedi Council sending you?"

He looked around, then pulled her close to him. His lips, so close to hers that she could have kissed him, moved almost inaudibly; a hand slipped down to rest on her hip as he spoke. "There are rumors," he whispered, "that Dooku is behind a movement designed to uproot the Republic."

"What evidence do you have of that?" she replied, edging herself a fraction of an inch away from his mouth. "He helped our people against the Bitthævrians when they planned to wipe us out."

Arna frowned. "What about the hundreds of systems that have already seceded?"

"Perhaps because they disagree with how the Republic runs things," Ronderu growled. "After Kalee, one must wonder."

He let out a disbelieving laugh. "Don't tell me you believe that nonsense. And just one blunder doesn't mean the whole Republic should be uprooted."

She clenched her fists. "Just one blunder? You travel here with me and witness the atrocities committed here due to starvation, and you call that just one blunder? Kalee's not planning to overthrow your Republic anyway. Let the independent systems do whatever the hell they want."

"Kalee doesn't have the strength, or otherwise they would war against the Republic." He sighed. "But that's beside the point. The Republic may not be perfect, but it doesn't deserve to be toppled over. Their goodness overshadows these types of decisions."

Ronderu bit her tongue. "But isn't it a bit of a stretch to expect war over secession? I thought the Republic wasn't a single government."

"The Republic will not let a Separatist state coexist without a fight because a confederacy would threaten its authority. War is certainly an option."

"And what army do you have?" she said with a chuckle. "The Jedi would be spread far too thin on their own."

"I don't know," he said with a frown. "But we're going to leave tomorrow to confirm if the rumors are right. I'll need your help." He swallowed. "If we deliver the information to the Council, I might be able to get you amnesty on Mandalore and permission to return home free."

Her mouth dropped open—all her objections from before dissolved like steam. "I could….I could really—"

"Yes," Arna said, a begrudging edge to his voice. He gently lifted her veil and her hair behind her ear. She allowed him to move his hand down her jaw to the small spires poking from her chin, and he kissed her on both cheeks—another sign of friendship in her own culture. And as he pulled away, she caught a bit of sadness radiating off his aura.

The days trickled like water from the crags of stone in the Kaleela hall's large fountain. Three. Four. Five. Khetsuu, due to appear before the Khaganate in a week to receive a report on Kalee's dire state, sat beside the teal stone, flecked with glowing blue and green hints.

Pacing in the foyer, he itched at his scales; the mottled red-brown diamonds peeled off easily. His stomach had long since gone numb with hunger, and he'd eaten so little in the past week that he worried he would soon humiliate himself and faint from the strain. There's still hope, in any case. I swear to the gods, I will find a way out of this.

Bent entered the foyer. Though he did not appear affected outwardly by the famines, Khetsuu noted several noticeable changes in his demeanor. The older man spoke quietly. "Your wives have not returned."

A thunderclap barreled through his head. "That is correct."

Bent waved a hand in front of his face. "Qymaen? You still with me?"

"Yes," Khetsuu said, almost as if in a dream. He gripped his rifle. How could I be so dim-witted?

And how can I ever forgive myself?

When they reached the Kunbal's border, Khetsuu's knuckles tightened around his swords. His rifle was a heavy reminder that he was still at war—but not against the Huk anymore.

Bent exchanged glances with him. "Want me to go in alone?"

Khetsuu shook his head. "I must deal with the threat myself. Whatever lies within this thicket, I have dominated it."

His friend nodded with a frown behind his mask. They advanced along the trail, along the rough wagon road that would allow them to get to the lodge….

A noise rustled in the thickets, and both men jumped. Khetsuu forced a dry swallow, and his breath snared as he silently drew the dual blades. Training with Ronderu had wrought the art of wielding the swords into his hands, and he carried them with haughtiness as if he'd been born a swordsman.

His feet touched the moss. Air compressed around him.

And gazing upon what lay beyond the thicket, the swords fell to the ground. His hands sweated profusely. He longed to gouge his eyes and tear out his own heart. But this scene had already done it to him.

Three women lay on the moss. Blood pooled around their bodies and through their tangled hair of different colors. He forced himself to breathe. Racing to the side of the smallest one, he touched scales the color of incense and caressed her icy body.

"Naidvar…." he choked out, closing his trembling hand around hers. He examined her frail body, looking for how her attacker had ended her life. His hands landed on a single incision made in her lower stomach. Her pregnancy lump had been split in half, and sticky maroon had pooled around the wound, seeping into her armor and linens.

Breath exited his mouth in short wheezes. I couldn't save her. I sent her without accompanying her.

I should be dead right now, not her.

The hand of Bentilais san Sk'ar went to his shoulder. "Qymaen," he whispered. "Come here."

But Khetsuu was still at the corpse of Naidvar. His voice came out shakily. "If I hadn't married her, she would be alive."

Gently prying Khetsuu's hands from Naidvar's body, Bent wrapped his khagan in an embrace as the only person who would stay faithful to him even now. Still, Khetsuu only sat frozen in his friend's embrace, dried of tears.

"The other two were Lyankhua and Mergen," Bent said. "Saikhan may still be alive."

"But where are the children?" Khetsuu grasped at his friend's headscarf. "Have they attacked the way back?"

Bent continued to hug him. "I don't know. But I can't conduct this investigation myself."

With the help of his friend, he stood again. "Clues," he said. "We must look for clues."

"First off," Bent said, "Saikhan wouldn't stay at the lodge with the kids. She'd have been kidnapped; if she was kidnapped, so were the kids. We find Saikhan, and we'll find out if the kids were kidnapped too."

Khetsuu nodded. "She wasn't killed here, at least not with any blood wound. They've dragged her off somewhere else to finish the job—whatever they're planning—and don't want to leave a trail where they can be found."

Bent nodded, his blue-violet eyes studying the forest floor. "Saikhan was—is—fairly tall," he murmured. "If they didn't leave a trail of blood, at least there must be some sort of ruffling of the foliage."

Khetsuu traced the forest floor, then sighed. "But that is where our lead stops. Saikhan took a wagon in addition to everything else. That'd be a great place to hide a trafficked woman and your trail."

Bent tilted his head. "You think she was trafficked?"

Khetsuu's fists curled. "It's certainly a possibility. Polygyny is permissible, and we have a stagnant economy. Why not invent counterfeit currency and make money using them as….as…."

The memory of Ronderu's words to him when they'd been nineteen rang clear even today. There are evil people on Kalee. They just know how to hide it. She'd then told the story of how a khan from Bent's home tribe had taken her virginity when she'd been only twelve. When Khetsuu had heard of how the love of his life had been mistreated…

Bent nodded. "Must've taken her somewhere secluded. There are several places where the trail pivots. The Lig, Gerelakh, Duuna, Chimeegui, and at least twelve more."

"All large tribes," he muttered. "Of course."

"But there is a way we can find them," Bent pointed out. "It would be a fool's errand to search every tribe, but we could look through the underground ones first. Easier to hide illegal activity in a canyon than on a prairie."

"Should we split up?"

"Definitely," Bent said firmly. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a map of the area. "The largest underground tribes should be dealt with first. I vote on going after the Duuna and the Gerelakh first."

"Get your cohort," Khetsuu said with a nod. "I'll rally the izvoshra. We'll track down this fool and make him pay….one way or another."

It was morning when Ronderu had to bid Kalee farewell once more. If these rumors of Dooku wishing to warmonger against the Republic were false, she would be confined to Arna's service for another six months. If they were true, she would go free, and the galaxy would tear apart.

She looked at the happy town of Bos'wellia, the place she had once called home, before stepping onto the ramp and joining him in the cockpit.

The people dwelling on the insides of the Duuna canyons parted like sand from the shores as Khetsuu and his soldiers entered the public square of the underground space.

He stepped up to the podium. "Citizens of Duuna, I must ask every person to cease their duties."

They froze. Khetsuu pressed his lips together. "One of the izvoshra, Ikha jai Saikhan, went missing a few days ago. Stay here, and we will investigate the scene. It will take three standard hours at most."

He sat down, casually brandishing his Czerka rifle. If Saikhan—one of the great khans of the Huk system's conquest—had been trafficked, this problem must be more extensive than they'd thought.

And even more perplexing was why they would take her and leave the three weaker voshrati dead in the woods. The only difference between Saikhan and her sister-wives was that Saikhan hadn't been pregnant.

When the cannibals had attacked Naidvar, she had claimed that Kummar had rescued her from the group and sent her on her way with the request to 'give him her best regards.' He had attributed the whole situation, including the attempted capture, to hunger hallucinations.

Now, he was not so sure. A woman without an extra body to nourish would have more muscle and meat if killed and cannibalized. Curling his fists in disgust, he reflected on it more. They know they can't kill me, for they have seen how I act in battle. So they dare steal my wives.

But if the rumors about the cannibals were true, what about Kummar? For the first time, he questioned his outburst at Bentilais san Sk'ar those months ago. Could the impossible have happened—that Ronderu had lived?

His com buzzed, and he pressed the button. "This is Khetsuu. What do you have?"

"Sir?" Bent's voice came from the other end. "We've found her."

Arna stepped in. "Are you finished getting dressed yet?" Catching her gaze, red splashed across his face. "You look….beautiful."

She tilted her head, and a slow smile crossed her face. "Do I embarrass you, Master Jedi?"

With a soft chuckle, he dropped his hands. "A little, Khaneme Kummar."

The smile vanished. "Please, Arna—don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Just call me Ru. The rest of it isn't important."

He deliberated a bit. "As you wish."

She sat down on the bed, and he took his place beside her, slipping his hand to the base of her skull. "When we get in, I need you to keep this with you."

Two cold metal cylinders were thrust into her hand. They were white and gray-colored, with a single button on each. "What are these?" She peered into the hole of one of them.

With an alarmed look, he closed his hand over hers and lowered the cylinders to rest in her lap. "They're a bit like lightsabers," he said. "I made them for you."

"But only Jedi can carry those," she said with a small smile.

"I know," Arna said. "They're different than mine is. Sleeker, not powered by Kyber crystals. And they don't have the fancy settings of ours."

"But why are you giving these to me?" she asked, clutching them. "I could kill you tonight and take your ship back to Kalee."

"I hope we're closer friends than that," he said, jokingly miffed. "I gave these to you for a few reasons. First: I've seen your dreams about the Krath droid. I give these to you to defend yourself."

"But when will I face it?"

"I don't know," he said. "But that's not why I gave them to you so soon. There are many dark things connected to this planet. The count is….an elderly man, and not as sane as he used to be."

"If he's a Jedi, wouldn't he be safe?"

"Was," Arna corrected. "He left the Order during the Battle of Naboo ten years ago. I don't know his mental state, but in the worst case, be prepared to use these to defend yourself."

She flexed her flesh hand and nodded, her throat dry. How easily winded she was with her regulator. "How do I activate them?"

"Hold them straight up and press the button."

She did as he asked, her fingers trembling over the hilt, and a brilliant shot of white ignited from the base. The beam showed her face, partially visible beneath the veil, and she smiled. "They're lovely."

He rose. "Now conceal them on your clothing. We must confer with the count."

Khetsuu's team reached the Gerelakh settlement at sundown the next day. Weary from lack of sleep, he stumbled into one of the camps on the steppes. "Where is she?" he barked raggedly at a page standing in the doorway.

"Inside, my lord. Voshrat Sk'ar is with her."

His wobbling legs stepped inside the tent. Saikhan's hands were strapped to wooden poles atop a large spindle, and her eyes were swollen shut—though, from beating or sickness, Khetsuu was unsure. Her wrists were bloodied. Great patches of skin had been snarled from her back.

His voice came out in a manic shout. "Why did you not free her?"

Bent was unfazed by his friend's fury. "We lacked the equipment needed. We're used to using Czerka combat, but not a single soldier in my cohort owns a Lig sword."

"Bentilais san Sk'ar…." Khetsuu growled. A sick lust for blood upon his friend came to heart. The image of his most trusted voshrat's throat in his hand flashed across his mind.

"Forgive me for intruding, my lord," the page from the door said, "but it is to your benefit that you untie her."

He would deal with Sk'ar later. Drawing one of the dual blades, he frowned at the bone tip winked at him in the tent's light. You're too late. It's your fault. You killed them, you demon, and now you're about to kill her too. When will you stop causing death to those you love? When will you learn?

He cut Saikhan's bonds with an expert slice, and she tumbled into his arms. He licked his fingers and ran the moisture over her eyes to scrape the crags of dried blood from her scales.

Her voice came out in a whisper, though she did not open her eyes. "Qymaen…."

He gripped her thin body and ran his hand through her tangled blonde hair. "I'm right here, nee ekhner," he whispered.

A shaking hand came up to touch his mask. "The children, Qymaen….they're all dead."

He pressed an ear to her breast, then cupped her face in his hand. "What happened to them?" His hands worked to tear off the linens around his wrists and wrap them around hers.

"Cannibals…." she groaned again. "They….died….that others might live…."

He moved his hand to rest between her shoulder blades; her force began to fade. "Saikhan, can you hear me?"

"Barely…."

He pulled off his mask. "Saikhan, I'm right here. I won't let you die…." Not like Ronderu. Not like Lyankhua. Not like Naidvar.

"One cannot stop….what is to come…." Saikhan gasped out. Her head dropped back, and her hands went limp.

He stood, a scowl twisting his face. "Bring me the men who did this to her. I want them all."

Bent didn't offer words of condolence. After Khetsuu's reign as khagan, the Kaleesh would never be known for their mercy again.

Three despicable men were thrust down to bow before their khagan, their bodies bone-thin from the famine and their mouths dry with crusted blood.

Khetsuu stalked up to the men, gripping a Lig sword. His face contorted into an ugly smile. So these are the fools I must kill. "Do you know," he asked, his voice surprisingly quiet, "what you did?"

They were silent. "Do you know," Khetsuu thundered, "What you did?"

"If I may interrupt, my lord," one of his pages said, "I don't think they can answer."

"Explain yourself," he snapped.

"Have you ever heard of someone going mute from illness?"

"What odds that all three would be mute?" he snapped. He prodded the temple of one of the starving men with his weapon. "Which of you can talk?"

"I can," one of the men croaked. Blood dripped from his lips, and his scales had been torn in huge chunks from his skin. "I meant no disrespect, Your Grace. But—I didn't know she was yours—"

"What bearing on the situation at hand does that have?"

"I wouldn't have touched her if I knew she—they—were all yours. I imagined you to be committed to Audrana. I—I—"

Khetsuu rushed forward, blind, and ran his sword through his stomach. The squelch of the bone against the flesh, the dying cough of his foe before he sank back—he savored these reactions. They were more pleasurable than the fieriest night of bonding.

"Any more pleas?" he asked, his voice louder.

But the other two men indeed appeared to be mute. His smaller, more rational voice told him to spare them or kill them more mercifully at the least. To kill those who couldn't defend themselves was the way the Huk would behave.

But they took my wives from me—and my children.

He scowled. "Tie them to the lashing block. Eight lashes each. Then kill them."

I will not be like the Huk, he repeated, easing the coldness in his hands. I still love. I am not a vehicle of fury.

Not yet.

Did you know….

● Ronderu was a living legend among her people. After Jenuwaa, some people questioned whether she'd ever existed in the first place.

● Unknown Soldier says that Grievous' family was "subjected to the worst acts of depravity" due to the Republic's sanctions. Some people have interpreted this to mean sex trafficking, while others have considered it cannibalism. (The latter was what Abel Peña had in mind when writing it.)

● In the Legends EU, Master Dooku was one of the Jedi sent to Kalee during the Bitthævrian war to rally the Kaleesh against the Bitthævrians, along with his Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn. Why? Because the Bitthævrians wanted to remain independent from the Republic.

Tell me what you think….

● Should the Republic stop a Confederacy from arising? Do you agree with Arna or Ronderu about the situation?

● Is Khetsuu justified in killing those men without a trial?