In Love and War - Part Sixteen
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Jonica tapped the toe of one elegant shoe against the gleaming parquet floor. She lifted her hand to her mouth and was about to chew on her nails, a bad habit left over from her childhood, but remembered not only had she stopped chewing her nails years ago, she'd just had them done that morning. She quickly lowered her hand, biting her lower lip instead.
She was standing just inside Gend's workout room which was located in the left wing of the mansion. Her son was sparring in preparation for the challenge tomorrow morning. His sparring partner was his Uncle Faren, Diomis' younger half-brother.
Unlike either Diomis or Gend, Faren was neither tall or muscular. He was of medium height, which made him a couple of inches shorter then her, with a lean, wiry build. His small, thin-lipped mouth was usually either closed tightly, since he hardly spoke, or pulled back in an ingratiating smile that never reached those bulging, yellow eyes. He was going bald, something Jonica could not understand, since there were drugs he could have taken to regrow his hair.
Gend suddenly roared. Jonica jumped at the sound, then saw her son had succeeded in disarming his uncle. Faren, the sweat gleaming on the bare skin of his head, acknowledged his nephew's prowess with his usual thin- lipped smile, but Jonica noted the brief flare of anger in his eyes.
"Well done, nephew," he said. "It would appear you are ready to meet the Jedi tomorrow."
Gend nodded, smiling as he twirled his blade in intricate patterns around him. "I wish the Jedi was allowed to use his powers in the challenge. I know I could still beat him even if he did."
Jonica shuddered at her son's words. He was a complete and utter fool. Though she had never met a Jedi, she had heard enough about what they were capable of to greatly fear them. It was said they could cast spells which would make one do whatever they commanded; walk into a fire or fall upon a sword. That they could move faster than the eye could see and manipulate objects with just their mind.
She shook her head. Gend was an idiot to even wish such a thing. It was her fear the Jedi would not honor his vow which had brought her to this room. She watched as uncle and nephew now strolled around the room. Neither had yet noticed her presence.
"Come, uncle. I'll show you what I've acquired since you were last here," Gend said proudly.
Hundreds of alien weaponry lined the walls of Gend's workout room. Jonica shuddered again. She hated he had become so enamored of alien weaponry these last few years. First, because weapons of any kind made her uneasy, and secondly because aliens, and anything that belonged to them, made her equally uncomfortable.
There were more aliens visiting and, in some cases, living on Ahjane than ever before since it joined the Republic. Something Jonica did not approve of at all. Ahjane for Ahjanese was her belief. Then her lips curled with disgust. Onara had two of the ghastly things living with her; a four-armed freak and a lumbering beast. Well, once she was part of the Lenor family there would be no more of that.
"This, Uncle, is a punch-dagger. I acquired it last week."
Jonica drew her thoughts back to her son. He was showing Faren a small, handheld knife.
"It doesn't look like much," Faren commented, with just a hint of disdain in his voice.
"Ah, but that's the beauty of it. Once you plunge it into the body of an opponent, the blade extends and causes even more internal damage."
"I see." Faren took the punch-dagger from his nephew and examined it more closely.
"Too bad I can't use it tomorrow."
"The weapons for the challenge have already been approved by the Assembly," Faren reminded him.
Gend shrugged his broad shoulders. He took the dagger back from his uncle and placed it carefully in its niche on the wall. "I know. But, it's still too bad."
The two moved down the wall as Gend showed his uncle his other weapons. From where she stood, Jonica heard him call out such names as razor-stick, Rodian cyrogenic whip, neurostaff, molecular stiletto, microwave stunner, gaderffii and something called a Kedran lip smear.
"It looks like lipstick," Faren said, laughing.
"It is, Uncle, but a most deadly one. It's impregnated with a poison that can stun a victim. The user must take the antidote before she can wear it. However, after the kiss and once the victim lies helpless..."
Both Gend and Faren laughed. "Truly a woman's weapon," Faren observed.
Then he happened to turn his head and saw Jonica standing in the doorway. Faren's bulging yellow eyes grew even larger, his pupils dilating, and from where Jonica stood she could see his breathing becoming quicker and shallower, and his tongue, which reminded her of the tongue of a jade- backed lizard, licked his thin lips. Gend, noting Faren was no longer looking at the weapons, frowned at his uncle, then turned to see where he was staring.
"Mother," he cried happily.
He waved in her with a board grin. Jonica sauntered into the room, making sure her hips swayed provocatively as she drew closer. She smiled inside. Faren followed her every move with his eyes, his gaze hungry.
"Son," Jonica said as she moved next to him and took his beefy arm. "You should be resting and not playing around with your little toys."
She was speaking to Gend but her eyes were on Faren.
"They're hardly toys, Mother. And I'll go to bed soon enough. Though I don't know how I'll sleep. I can't wait for tomorrow."
Jonica frowned as she finally tore her gaze from Faren and looked up at her son. "Well, I can. I still don't like this, Gend."
"There's nothing you can do about it, Mother. And I wish you would stop worrying. There's no way the Jedi can beat me."
"Especially since he can't use his powers," Faren interjected in his raspy voice.
Jonica shook her head. "I don't believe he'll honor that vow."
"Why not?" Faren asked, moving a step closer to her, the nostrils of his long nose quivering as he took in the scent of her perfume.
"Would you?" she retorted. "When the Jedi marries Onara, he's going to be very rich and quite powerful. I've heard about these Jedi. They're not allowed to own anything. Now, suddenly, he's going to have everything. More wealth than he's ever seen, and it's all within his grasp. Would you take a chance on losing all that?"
Faren tilted his head, the lights of the room glimmering on the bare skin of his skull and black, oily strands of his remaining hair.
"From what I've heard, the Jedi is deeply in love with Onara." He shrugged. "He would marry her even if she didn't have a dinerit to her name."
Jonica threw back her head and laughed, very much aware the gesture emphasized her breasts.
"I don't believe it. Not in a million years. No one would be that foolish." She gave Faren a crafty, but appraising look. "I never took you for a romantic, Faren."
He frowned at her, that telltale flare of anger burning in his eyes. "I'm not, Jonica. Far from it."
"That's good to hear," she said. "I despise romantics. Love is just a trick nature deceives us with in order to get us to reproduce."
"Really, Mother," Gend said laughing, his chest booming with the sound. "The things you say."
"Believe it, my son," she said, her voice suddenly sharp. "Never fall in love. Never be that weak. Take your pleasure from women, but never love them."
"Don't worry, Mother. I have no problems taking my pleasure from women, and I'd rather cut off my arm than fall in love."
Jonica nodded, then looked over at Faren. "I don't believe the Jedi loves Onara at all. I think his so-called expulsion from the Jedi Order was just a subterfuge. He's after her money and her influence here on Ahjane. For what purpose, I don't know." She shook her head firmly. "There is no way he's going to risk losing all that. He'll use his powers to defeat Gend. How do I know, you wonder? Because if I were him, I would."
Her son lifted his thick-jawed head. "Let him use his sorcerer's powers. I'm not afraid."
Jonica firmed her lips, then looked deeply into Faren's eyes, and she saw in their cold, yellow depths what she herself felt. Gend was too arrogant and too overconfident. If the Jedi used his powers against him, he would die. It was that simple. Jonica tilted her head over at Faren, an unspoken message passing between them. He nodded imperceptibly. Jonica smiled. Her son would not die tomorrow.
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Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes. He was sitting on the fawn-colored carpet of his chamber in Onara's manor. He had been meditating for most of the evening. He had wanted to spend this last night before the challenge with Onara, but he had felt in his heart that he needed to be alone, to come to terms with what he would have to do tomorrow.
He looked around. This room had been Onara and Dalan's bedroom. Before that it had belonged to Onara's father, Dynast K'lia. Onara had said the room had been redecorated since her father's death, but she had kept the large Tivinai Provincial bed which had belonged to her parents.
Obi-Wan, when he had arrived on Ahajne, had been given the chamber by the servants, unaware at the time it had been Onara's and Dalan's bedroom. Once he had learned it was, he had wanted to move to another room, but by then Onara had awoken from her _yanol_ and all that had been on his mind was her.
Now, he had grown used to the room, aware of not only the memories of Dynast K'lia, a man Obi-Wan had known only for a short time, but had greatly respected, but he sensed both Onara's and Dalan's auras in this room and, strangely, it gave him some sense of comfort. Plus, he also knew it was Onara's wish that once they were married, she would move into this chamber and it would be theirs.
Obi-Wan sighed as he rose to his feet. Onara's marriage to Dalan had not been a completely joyous one, but he knew there had been moments when they had, at least, shared some happiness. As for him, he hoped that once they were married, he would be able to give Onara all the bliss and joy it was within his power to grant her. She still mourned Ben's passing, as did he, and his most fervent wish was to give her another child to fill the emptiness Ben's death had left in her heart.
He walked over to the blondwood desk and picked up a book. It was the one Sinja-Bau had given him upon his departure from Coruscant. _The Classic of Peace and Balance._ He'd already read it twice, so now he just opened a page at random. Although it was late and he knew he needed his rest, he was finding it difficult to sleep.
He gazed down at the pages. The book was a collection of Jedi epigrams, gathered over the long existence of the Order. Some Jedi used the book as a means of focusing their meditation. Obi-Wan, this night, hoped to find guidance for what he had to face tomorrow. He read the words.
_Accept misfortune and welcome disgrace, for they are the condition of all sentient beings. Do not be driven by fear of loss or hope of gain. Love even misfortune as if it were your own body. Having a body means being bound to the gain and loss of all things. Love all things as if they were your own body._
Obi-Wan sighed. He found comfort in the words, but they also sent a chill down his spine. Then he heard a soft knock at his door. He smiled, closing the book and placing it back on the desk.
"Come in, Onara."
Onara opened the door and peered around it, surprise on her face. It never failed to startle her when he always seemed to know it was her who knocked. But, how could he not, he thought as she entered the room and walked over to him. She filled his mind the way a garden filled the night air with its perfume. He was always aware of her presence, even when she wasn't with him.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, I didn't mean to disturb you. I know you wanted to be alone tonight, but---"
She stopped when Obi-Wan quickly drew her into his arms and kissed her. Onara was dressed in a violet silk nightgown which, though modest in design, only served to highlight her sensual beauty. As he kissed her, he recalled the nights he had spent in deep meditation in order to ease the fire in his body and his most heated and unJedi-like thoughts about her.
Onara softly slid her arms up and around his neck, eagerly returning his kiss. After a long breathless moment they pulled away, their hearts pounding, their bodies warm and heavy. Then Onara canted her head as she gazed up at him, her dark eyes sparkling.
"I thought you wanted to be alone," she whispered, her breath warm against his lips.
He shrugged, smiling down at her. "I changed my mind." Then he stroked her cheek. "Couldn't sleep?"
Onara shook her head, worry creasing her forehead. She leaned against him, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want you to fight tomorrow."
"It's too late for that, Onara."
"I know. But, I can't help it."
"I understand."
He took her by the arm and led her over to the plush brown divan near the bed. They sat down, their arms around each other. For a moment, neither said anything. The wind was high tonight and Obi-Wan heard it rattling fiercely against the windows. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to concentrate only on the warmth of Onara's body in his arms, the gentle pulse of her heartbeat, the soft release of her breath, the delicate, but heady scent of whatever soap she had used to bathe with this evening.
"You'll have to kill him," she suddenly said, her voice low and throbbing.
"I don't want to."
"You have to, Obi-Wan. If you don't, he'll kill you."
He nodded, adjusting his arms and drawing her closer.
"And if you die, I'll die too," Onara went on.
"Don't say that, Onara. Please."
"I will, but not before I find a way to kill Gend."
Obi-Wan grabbed her arms and pushed her away from him. "No, Onara," he said, his voice firm. "You will not die and you will not kill anyone. You will live and go on with your life, no matter what happens tomorrow."
Onara fiercely shook her head, her dark eyes welling with tears. "I won't, Obi-Wan. I can't take anymore pain. I can't. Father, Ben, Dalan." The tears spilled down her cheeks. "I won't live if I lose you. I won't. I love you, Obi-Wan. I love you more than my life, and I won't live without you. I won't."
Obi-Wan stared at her, his own eyes stinging. Then he pulled her back into his arms and held her tight, letting her sob against his chest, stroking her long, black hair where it flowed down her back. Then he felt her pull away. He looked down into her tear-ravaged face.
"Promise me, Obi-Wan. Promise me that if there is no other way, you will use your powers to save yourself."
Obi-Wan gently cupped her cheek, stroking her tears. "I can't, love. You know that. I swore not to use my powers. It would not be fair."
Onara's eyes blazed. "And do you think the Lenors will play fair, my darling? Do you? I'm so afraid, Obi-Wan. Something terrible is going to happen. I can feel it. Oh, I wish I had never called for this challenge." She squeezed his arms. "Please, please, promise me you will call upon your powers if you have to."
"No, Onara. I will not make that promise."
Onara stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, leaning her cheek against his chest. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Obi-Wan whispered. "I know you're asking this of me only because you love me."
"I do love you, Obi-Wan, and it's your sense of honor and duty I love among all the other qualities I worship about you. But, I can't help dreading that your devotion to honor, something the Lenors know nothing of, will get you killed."
"Have you so little faith in my abilities, love?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice lightly teasing.
Onara raised her head from his chest and gazed solemnly up at him. "No, Obi- Wan. My faith in you is as infinite as the heavens, but my faith in the Lenors to be honorable, to be fair--" She shook her head.
Obi-Wan kissed her forehead. "There is nothing we can do about that, my love. Just have faith in me."
Onara gazed up at him, then slowly nodded. Obi-Wan smiled and, lowering his head, gently, but totally, claimed her lips.
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Jonica grimaced as Faren kissed her on the neck. The two were in his room in the mansion. Gend had finally gone to bed. Diomis was spending the night in the capital, making the final arrangements for the challenge. Jonica suspected he had absented himself from the mansion as much to avoid being in his half-brother's presence as to make those arrangements.
Gend had invited his uncle to attend the challenge, but if Diomis had had has way, Faren would not have come within a hundred leagues of him. There was no love lost between the brothers. They shared the same father but had different mothers. Faren, as a result of a dalliance Diomis' father had indulged in some 40 years ago with a dancer, had been born in disgrace.
As a result of his illegitimacy, Faren had no real standing in the Lenor family, but Gend liked his uncle. Jonica did not know why, but it was probably because only Faren seemed to take an interest in her son's obsessions with weapons and fighting.
As for Jonica, she could no more stand Faren then her husband could. He was venal and ambitious, wallowing in his resentment like a boned hen in a stew at having been born on the wrong side of the blanket. But, as he tightened his arms around her and moved his mouth from her neck and over to her face, she now had need of him, as much as it revolted her to be in such a position.
"No kissing," she said as Faren tried to do so.
He pulled back, his yellow eyes burning. "Why not? Am I not good enough to kiss?"
Jonica smiled sultrily at him. "That will be part of your prize after you've done what I asked."
Faren grunted. "It won't be easy."
"But it can be done."
He shrugged. "Anything can be done. Gend showed me a weapon in his collection that just might do the job."
"He mustn't know about this," Jonica said quickly.
"He won't," Faren assured her.
"And neither must Diomis. Especially him. My husband has this perverted sense of honor. He would not approve of our little plan."
Faren smirked, drawing Jonica closer. "I try to spend as little time in my brother's company as he does in mine. Don't worry, he won't find out." He moved his mouth back to her neck.
Revulsion shuddered through Jonica. The things she had to do to protect her interests.
"Are you sure this weapon will kill the Jedi?" she asked.
Faren moved away from her and glared. "We don't want to kill him. The entire Assembly will be there observing the challenge." He shook his head. "The weapon I saw in Gend's little collection will only stun the Jedi, leaving him unable to defend himself."
A sneer twisted Jonica's features. "What do you plan to do? Kiss him with that lip poison."
Faren growled and grabbed her arm, squeezing it hard. "That's not funny."
Jonica tried to wrench her arm away, but Faren gripped her tighter, his yellow eyes boring into hers.
"All right, I'm sorry," Jonica cried. "I didn't mean anything by it. Now release me."
Faren glared at her a moment longer, then let go of her arm, but he quickly drew her back into his loathsome embrace.
"It must appear as if Gend has killed the Jedi, not that he died by some other means," he murmured as he went back to kissing her neck. "The weapon I have in mind will render him helpless. Then Gend can easily deliver the killing blow."
Jonica wasn't keen on the idea. She wanted the Jedi dead, by whatever means necessary, but Faren, she had to admit, though grudgingly, was right. No one must suspect anything. It must look as if Gend had defeated the Jedi in fair combat or the Assembly would not accept the outcome.
"And then," Faren grinned at her, looking more and more like a rat as he did so, "you will have what you want, and I will have what I want."
He tried to push her onto the bed, but Jonica nimbly moved out of his arms and stood, adjusting her gown and patting her hair back into place.
"Yes," she purred, ignoring the look of anger and frustration in Faren's eyes. "You will have what you want, but only after the Jedi is dead and Onara is married to Gend. Understand?"
Faren stared at her, his thin throat wobbling as he swallowed, his eyes raking her body. Then he finally nodded. Jonica gave him another fulsome smile, full of the erotic promise of his eventual reward, then turned and left his room.
To be continued....
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Jonica tapped the toe of one elegant shoe against the gleaming parquet floor. She lifted her hand to her mouth and was about to chew on her nails, a bad habit left over from her childhood, but remembered not only had she stopped chewing her nails years ago, she'd just had them done that morning. She quickly lowered her hand, biting her lower lip instead.
She was standing just inside Gend's workout room which was located in the left wing of the mansion. Her son was sparring in preparation for the challenge tomorrow morning. His sparring partner was his Uncle Faren, Diomis' younger half-brother.
Unlike either Diomis or Gend, Faren was neither tall or muscular. He was of medium height, which made him a couple of inches shorter then her, with a lean, wiry build. His small, thin-lipped mouth was usually either closed tightly, since he hardly spoke, or pulled back in an ingratiating smile that never reached those bulging, yellow eyes. He was going bald, something Jonica could not understand, since there were drugs he could have taken to regrow his hair.
Gend suddenly roared. Jonica jumped at the sound, then saw her son had succeeded in disarming his uncle. Faren, the sweat gleaming on the bare skin of his head, acknowledged his nephew's prowess with his usual thin- lipped smile, but Jonica noted the brief flare of anger in his eyes.
"Well done, nephew," he said. "It would appear you are ready to meet the Jedi tomorrow."
Gend nodded, smiling as he twirled his blade in intricate patterns around him. "I wish the Jedi was allowed to use his powers in the challenge. I know I could still beat him even if he did."
Jonica shuddered at her son's words. He was a complete and utter fool. Though she had never met a Jedi, she had heard enough about what they were capable of to greatly fear them. It was said they could cast spells which would make one do whatever they commanded; walk into a fire or fall upon a sword. That they could move faster than the eye could see and manipulate objects with just their mind.
She shook her head. Gend was an idiot to even wish such a thing. It was her fear the Jedi would not honor his vow which had brought her to this room. She watched as uncle and nephew now strolled around the room. Neither had yet noticed her presence.
"Come, uncle. I'll show you what I've acquired since you were last here," Gend said proudly.
Hundreds of alien weaponry lined the walls of Gend's workout room. Jonica shuddered again. She hated he had become so enamored of alien weaponry these last few years. First, because weapons of any kind made her uneasy, and secondly because aliens, and anything that belonged to them, made her equally uncomfortable.
There were more aliens visiting and, in some cases, living on Ahjane than ever before since it joined the Republic. Something Jonica did not approve of at all. Ahjane for Ahjanese was her belief. Then her lips curled with disgust. Onara had two of the ghastly things living with her; a four-armed freak and a lumbering beast. Well, once she was part of the Lenor family there would be no more of that.
"This, Uncle, is a punch-dagger. I acquired it last week."
Jonica drew her thoughts back to her son. He was showing Faren a small, handheld knife.
"It doesn't look like much," Faren commented, with just a hint of disdain in his voice.
"Ah, but that's the beauty of it. Once you plunge it into the body of an opponent, the blade extends and causes even more internal damage."
"I see." Faren took the punch-dagger from his nephew and examined it more closely.
"Too bad I can't use it tomorrow."
"The weapons for the challenge have already been approved by the Assembly," Faren reminded him.
Gend shrugged his broad shoulders. He took the dagger back from his uncle and placed it carefully in its niche on the wall. "I know. But, it's still too bad."
The two moved down the wall as Gend showed his uncle his other weapons. From where she stood, Jonica heard him call out such names as razor-stick, Rodian cyrogenic whip, neurostaff, molecular stiletto, microwave stunner, gaderffii and something called a Kedran lip smear.
"It looks like lipstick," Faren said, laughing.
"It is, Uncle, but a most deadly one. It's impregnated with a poison that can stun a victim. The user must take the antidote before she can wear it. However, after the kiss and once the victim lies helpless..."
Both Gend and Faren laughed. "Truly a woman's weapon," Faren observed.
Then he happened to turn his head and saw Jonica standing in the doorway. Faren's bulging yellow eyes grew even larger, his pupils dilating, and from where Jonica stood she could see his breathing becoming quicker and shallower, and his tongue, which reminded her of the tongue of a jade- backed lizard, licked his thin lips. Gend, noting Faren was no longer looking at the weapons, frowned at his uncle, then turned to see where he was staring.
"Mother," he cried happily.
He waved in her with a board grin. Jonica sauntered into the room, making sure her hips swayed provocatively as she drew closer. She smiled inside. Faren followed her every move with his eyes, his gaze hungry.
"Son," Jonica said as she moved next to him and took his beefy arm. "You should be resting and not playing around with your little toys."
She was speaking to Gend but her eyes were on Faren.
"They're hardly toys, Mother. And I'll go to bed soon enough. Though I don't know how I'll sleep. I can't wait for tomorrow."
Jonica frowned as she finally tore her gaze from Faren and looked up at her son. "Well, I can. I still don't like this, Gend."
"There's nothing you can do about it, Mother. And I wish you would stop worrying. There's no way the Jedi can beat me."
"Especially since he can't use his powers," Faren interjected in his raspy voice.
Jonica shook her head. "I don't believe he'll honor that vow."
"Why not?" Faren asked, moving a step closer to her, the nostrils of his long nose quivering as he took in the scent of her perfume.
"Would you?" she retorted. "When the Jedi marries Onara, he's going to be very rich and quite powerful. I've heard about these Jedi. They're not allowed to own anything. Now, suddenly, he's going to have everything. More wealth than he's ever seen, and it's all within his grasp. Would you take a chance on losing all that?"
Faren tilted his head, the lights of the room glimmering on the bare skin of his skull and black, oily strands of his remaining hair.
"From what I've heard, the Jedi is deeply in love with Onara." He shrugged. "He would marry her even if she didn't have a dinerit to her name."
Jonica threw back her head and laughed, very much aware the gesture emphasized her breasts.
"I don't believe it. Not in a million years. No one would be that foolish." She gave Faren a crafty, but appraising look. "I never took you for a romantic, Faren."
He frowned at her, that telltale flare of anger burning in his eyes. "I'm not, Jonica. Far from it."
"That's good to hear," she said. "I despise romantics. Love is just a trick nature deceives us with in order to get us to reproduce."
"Really, Mother," Gend said laughing, his chest booming with the sound. "The things you say."
"Believe it, my son," she said, her voice suddenly sharp. "Never fall in love. Never be that weak. Take your pleasure from women, but never love them."
"Don't worry, Mother. I have no problems taking my pleasure from women, and I'd rather cut off my arm than fall in love."
Jonica nodded, then looked over at Faren. "I don't believe the Jedi loves Onara at all. I think his so-called expulsion from the Jedi Order was just a subterfuge. He's after her money and her influence here on Ahjane. For what purpose, I don't know." She shook her head firmly. "There is no way he's going to risk losing all that. He'll use his powers to defeat Gend. How do I know, you wonder? Because if I were him, I would."
Her son lifted his thick-jawed head. "Let him use his sorcerer's powers. I'm not afraid."
Jonica firmed her lips, then looked deeply into Faren's eyes, and she saw in their cold, yellow depths what she herself felt. Gend was too arrogant and too overconfident. If the Jedi used his powers against him, he would die. It was that simple. Jonica tilted her head over at Faren, an unspoken message passing between them. He nodded imperceptibly. Jonica smiled. Her son would not die tomorrow.
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Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes. He was sitting on the fawn-colored carpet of his chamber in Onara's manor. He had been meditating for most of the evening. He had wanted to spend this last night before the challenge with Onara, but he had felt in his heart that he needed to be alone, to come to terms with what he would have to do tomorrow.
He looked around. This room had been Onara and Dalan's bedroom. Before that it had belonged to Onara's father, Dynast K'lia. Onara had said the room had been redecorated since her father's death, but she had kept the large Tivinai Provincial bed which had belonged to her parents.
Obi-Wan, when he had arrived on Ahajne, had been given the chamber by the servants, unaware at the time it had been Onara's and Dalan's bedroom. Once he had learned it was, he had wanted to move to another room, but by then Onara had awoken from her _yanol_ and all that had been on his mind was her.
Now, he had grown used to the room, aware of not only the memories of Dynast K'lia, a man Obi-Wan had known only for a short time, but had greatly respected, but he sensed both Onara's and Dalan's auras in this room and, strangely, it gave him some sense of comfort. Plus, he also knew it was Onara's wish that once they were married, she would move into this chamber and it would be theirs.
Obi-Wan sighed as he rose to his feet. Onara's marriage to Dalan had not been a completely joyous one, but he knew there had been moments when they had, at least, shared some happiness. As for him, he hoped that once they were married, he would be able to give Onara all the bliss and joy it was within his power to grant her. She still mourned Ben's passing, as did he, and his most fervent wish was to give her another child to fill the emptiness Ben's death had left in her heart.
He walked over to the blondwood desk and picked up a book. It was the one Sinja-Bau had given him upon his departure from Coruscant. _The Classic of Peace and Balance._ He'd already read it twice, so now he just opened a page at random. Although it was late and he knew he needed his rest, he was finding it difficult to sleep.
He gazed down at the pages. The book was a collection of Jedi epigrams, gathered over the long existence of the Order. Some Jedi used the book as a means of focusing their meditation. Obi-Wan, this night, hoped to find guidance for what he had to face tomorrow. He read the words.
_Accept misfortune and welcome disgrace, for they are the condition of all sentient beings. Do not be driven by fear of loss or hope of gain. Love even misfortune as if it were your own body. Having a body means being bound to the gain and loss of all things. Love all things as if they were your own body._
Obi-Wan sighed. He found comfort in the words, but they also sent a chill down his spine. Then he heard a soft knock at his door. He smiled, closing the book and placing it back on the desk.
"Come in, Onara."
Onara opened the door and peered around it, surprise on her face. It never failed to startle her when he always seemed to know it was her who knocked. But, how could he not, he thought as she entered the room and walked over to him. She filled his mind the way a garden filled the night air with its perfume. He was always aware of her presence, even when she wasn't with him.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, I didn't mean to disturb you. I know you wanted to be alone tonight, but---"
She stopped when Obi-Wan quickly drew her into his arms and kissed her. Onara was dressed in a violet silk nightgown which, though modest in design, only served to highlight her sensual beauty. As he kissed her, he recalled the nights he had spent in deep meditation in order to ease the fire in his body and his most heated and unJedi-like thoughts about her.
Onara softly slid her arms up and around his neck, eagerly returning his kiss. After a long breathless moment they pulled away, their hearts pounding, their bodies warm and heavy. Then Onara canted her head as she gazed up at him, her dark eyes sparkling.
"I thought you wanted to be alone," she whispered, her breath warm against his lips.
He shrugged, smiling down at her. "I changed my mind." Then he stroked her cheek. "Couldn't sleep?"
Onara shook her head, worry creasing her forehead. She leaned against him, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want you to fight tomorrow."
"It's too late for that, Onara."
"I know. But, I can't help it."
"I understand."
He took her by the arm and led her over to the plush brown divan near the bed. They sat down, their arms around each other. For a moment, neither said anything. The wind was high tonight and Obi-Wan heard it rattling fiercely against the windows. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to concentrate only on the warmth of Onara's body in his arms, the gentle pulse of her heartbeat, the soft release of her breath, the delicate, but heady scent of whatever soap she had used to bathe with this evening.
"You'll have to kill him," she suddenly said, her voice low and throbbing.
"I don't want to."
"You have to, Obi-Wan. If you don't, he'll kill you."
He nodded, adjusting his arms and drawing her closer.
"And if you die, I'll die too," Onara went on.
"Don't say that, Onara. Please."
"I will, but not before I find a way to kill Gend."
Obi-Wan grabbed her arms and pushed her away from him. "No, Onara," he said, his voice firm. "You will not die and you will not kill anyone. You will live and go on with your life, no matter what happens tomorrow."
Onara fiercely shook her head, her dark eyes welling with tears. "I won't, Obi-Wan. I can't take anymore pain. I can't. Father, Ben, Dalan." The tears spilled down her cheeks. "I won't live if I lose you. I won't. I love you, Obi-Wan. I love you more than my life, and I won't live without you. I won't."
Obi-Wan stared at her, his own eyes stinging. Then he pulled her back into his arms and held her tight, letting her sob against his chest, stroking her long, black hair where it flowed down her back. Then he felt her pull away. He looked down into her tear-ravaged face.
"Promise me, Obi-Wan. Promise me that if there is no other way, you will use your powers to save yourself."
Obi-Wan gently cupped her cheek, stroking her tears. "I can't, love. You know that. I swore not to use my powers. It would not be fair."
Onara's eyes blazed. "And do you think the Lenors will play fair, my darling? Do you? I'm so afraid, Obi-Wan. Something terrible is going to happen. I can feel it. Oh, I wish I had never called for this challenge." She squeezed his arms. "Please, please, promise me you will call upon your powers if you have to."
"No, Onara. I will not make that promise."
Onara stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, leaning her cheek against his chest. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Obi-Wan whispered. "I know you're asking this of me only because you love me."
"I do love you, Obi-Wan, and it's your sense of honor and duty I love among all the other qualities I worship about you. But, I can't help dreading that your devotion to honor, something the Lenors know nothing of, will get you killed."
"Have you so little faith in my abilities, love?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice lightly teasing.
Onara raised her head from his chest and gazed solemnly up at him. "No, Obi- Wan. My faith in you is as infinite as the heavens, but my faith in the Lenors to be honorable, to be fair--" She shook her head.
Obi-Wan kissed her forehead. "There is nothing we can do about that, my love. Just have faith in me."
Onara gazed up at him, then slowly nodded. Obi-Wan smiled and, lowering his head, gently, but totally, claimed her lips.
-------------
Jonica grimaced as Faren kissed her on the neck. The two were in his room in the mansion. Gend had finally gone to bed. Diomis was spending the night in the capital, making the final arrangements for the challenge. Jonica suspected he had absented himself from the mansion as much to avoid being in his half-brother's presence as to make those arrangements.
Gend had invited his uncle to attend the challenge, but if Diomis had had has way, Faren would not have come within a hundred leagues of him. There was no love lost between the brothers. They shared the same father but had different mothers. Faren, as a result of a dalliance Diomis' father had indulged in some 40 years ago with a dancer, had been born in disgrace.
As a result of his illegitimacy, Faren had no real standing in the Lenor family, but Gend liked his uncle. Jonica did not know why, but it was probably because only Faren seemed to take an interest in her son's obsessions with weapons and fighting.
As for Jonica, she could no more stand Faren then her husband could. He was venal and ambitious, wallowing in his resentment like a boned hen in a stew at having been born on the wrong side of the blanket. But, as he tightened his arms around her and moved his mouth from her neck and over to her face, she now had need of him, as much as it revolted her to be in such a position.
"No kissing," she said as Faren tried to do so.
He pulled back, his yellow eyes burning. "Why not? Am I not good enough to kiss?"
Jonica smiled sultrily at him. "That will be part of your prize after you've done what I asked."
Faren grunted. "It won't be easy."
"But it can be done."
He shrugged. "Anything can be done. Gend showed me a weapon in his collection that just might do the job."
"He mustn't know about this," Jonica said quickly.
"He won't," Faren assured her.
"And neither must Diomis. Especially him. My husband has this perverted sense of honor. He would not approve of our little plan."
Faren smirked, drawing Jonica closer. "I try to spend as little time in my brother's company as he does in mine. Don't worry, he won't find out." He moved his mouth back to her neck.
Revulsion shuddered through Jonica. The things she had to do to protect her interests.
"Are you sure this weapon will kill the Jedi?" she asked.
Faren moved away from her and glared. "We don't want to kill him. The entire Assembly will be there observing the challenge." He shook his head. "The weapon I saw in Gend's little collection will only stun the Jedi, leaving him unable to defend himself."
A sneer twisted Jonica's features. "What do you plan to do? Kiss him with that lip poison."
Faren growled and grabbed her arm, squeezing it hard. "That's not funny."
Jonica tried to wrench her arm away, but Faren gripped her tighter, his yellow eyes boring into hers.
"All right, I'm sorry," Jonica cried. "I didn't mean anything by it. Now release me."
Faren glared at her a moment longer, then let go of her arm, but he quickly drew her back into his loathsome embrace.
"It must appear as if Gend has killed the Jedi, not that he died by some other means," he murmured as he went back to kissing her neck. "The weapon I have in mind will render him helpless. Then Gend can easily deliver the killing blow."
Jonica wasn't keen on the idea. She wanted the Jedi dead, by whatever means necessary, but Faren, she had to admit, though grudgingly, was right. No one must suspect anything. It must look as if Gend had defeated the Jedi in fair combat or the Assembly would not accept the outcome.
"And then," Faren grinned at her, looking more and more like a rat as he did so, "you will have what you want, and I will have what I want."
He tried to push her onto the bed, but Jonica nimbly moved out of his arms and stood, adjusting her gown and patting her hair back into place.
"Yes," she purred, ignoring the look of anger and frustration in Faren's eyes. "You will have what you want, but only after the Jedi is dead and Onara is married to Gend. Understand?"
Faren stared at her, his thin throat wobbling as he swallowed, his eyes raking her body. Then he finally nodded. Jonica gave him another fulsome smile, full of the erotic promise of his eventual reward, then turned and left his room.
To be continued....
