In Love and War - Chapter Twenty- One
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Jiah cursed softly under her breath as she gingerly applied icing to the cake. Normally she would have wanted to spend weeks planning and baking a wedding cake, especially for the wedding of her beloved mistress, but time was now of the essence.
"You missed a spot."
Jiah pursed her lips, keeping her attention on the cake and ignoring Malari. The younger woman leaned closer.
"Watch it." Her voice sharp, Jiah flashed a warning look as Malari almost jostled her arm.
Malari stepped back, her broad, wholesome face flushing red under its patches of flour. "Sorry."
Jiah released a soft sigh. "It's all right, Malari." She leaned away from the cake. "We're all a bit frazzled. Who would have thought Master Kenobi would heal so quickly." She shook her head in wonder. "A wound that should have killed him and he's healed of it in a week."
"Well, he is a Jedi, after all. It's said they have magical powers."
Jiah shrugged. "I wouldn't know about that. But, I do know I was sure I'd have at least a month, if not more, before he was well enough so that he and milady could marry. But what happens? He heals in a week and Onara decides she wants the wedding to be held the day after tomorrow."
Malari giggled. Jiah flashed her a questioning look. "What's so funny?"
"It looks to me that not only is Master Kenobi eager, and perhaps that's why he healed so quickly, but so is Lady Onara."
"Eager? Eager to do what?"
Malari stared wide-eyed at Jiah as if the head cook had grown another head. "Do what? Why, snuggle into the marriage bed, of course." A knowing look fell across the assistant cook's florid face. "And I don't blame milady for wanting to get that one between the sheets as quickly as possible."
Jiah waved a floured hand at her, but she was used to the younger woman's suggestive comments. "Really, Malari."
Malari grinned at her. "Even you can't have grown so old and cold in the blood that you can't appreciate Master Kenobi's _assets_." Then she winked at the head cook.
Jiah put her hands on her broad hips and confronted Malari. "I'm not that old I'll have you know, and, although it's been years since I laid my poor, dear husband to rest, Sithara bless and keep him until I join him in the House of Eternal Light, there's still blood in my veins and it can run just as hot and quick as yours. So, to answer your question, yes, I can and do appreciate Master Kenobi's assets as you call them, but I've got work to do and so do you. So let's get to it."
Malari reared back, fearful she'd offended Jiah. Then she saw a twinkle in the head cook's eyes and relaxed. The two shared a laugh. Then, apparently unwilling to leave the subject of Obi-Wan alone, Malari leaned close to Jiah.
"Is it true Master Kenobi refused to participate in the blessing ceremony when Lady Onara married Edress?"
Jiah, who had returned to her cake decorating, nodded. "Put up quite the fuss he did."
"But why? It's a great honor to be asked."
"You'll have to ask him."
"Oh, no, oh no, I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing."
Jiah's mouth curled up in a smile. Although Malari, like most of the young servant women in the manor, found the Jedi very attractive and was not adverse to gossiping about him when he wasn't around, as soon as he appeared Malari, and the rest, became as witless as geese.
Jiah shrugged at Malari's words. "Then you'll just have to remain in the dark as to why he didn't want to participate in the ceremony. But, neither did Lady Onara."
"Truly?"
Jiah nodded. "Put up as much a fuss as he did. And Lady Tsara was fit to be tied at her refusal to go through with it. She ranted and raved about the manor like a zalot in labor, cursing and threatening the poor girl with words that would chill your blood. But, she'd always been unkind to Onara. From the day she was born."
Malari shuddered at the mention of Onara's grandmother. Although she had not been employed at the manor when Lady Tsara was alive, the story of the old dragon's machinations, which had resulted not only in the unexpected and unsanctioned birth of her great-grandson, but the murder of her own son, Dynast K'lia, by the Red Tide she had hired to kidnap Ben, was legend about the manor.
"But they did finally perform the ceremony?"
Jiah smiled. "Of course they did. And they both fell in love that very night, but only to be parted the following morning." She released a heavy, sad sigh. "So much grief and pain has flowed from that night." She clucked her tongue. "My poor, poor lady. First her father, then her husband and sweet little one. All murdered. All dead." She wiped at her eyes.
Malari touched Jiah's arm. "I've heard Ben was a lovely child."
The head cook sniffed, nodded and returned to her decorating. "That he was. That he was. But...," and with a deep, satisfied release of her breath she finished the cake "....with this wedding, hopefully, my lady will finally have some lasting happiness and, best of all, there will once more be the sound of children in this house."
Malari nodded in agreement, a wide smile on her broad face.
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"But I don't want to be Dynast."
"Really, Obi-Wan, you sound just like a little boy. And whining doesn't become you. And if you don't stop fidgeting you're going to get pricked."
Obi-Wan looked over at Onara who was sitting on a cream-colored divan, her dark eyes sparkling with delight. The two, along with a tailor who was making adjustments to Obi-Wan's wedding coat and trousers, were in his chambers. The wedding was the day after tomorrow, and Obi-Wan was so nervous the butterflies in his stomach felt like hawk-bats, whipping about his insides with sharp, thick wings.
"If I sound like I'm whining, I don't mean to, but why is it that I didn't find out until today that by marrying you I become Dynast."
Onara tilted her head, smiling winsomely at him. "Because you didn't ask."
Obi-Wan released a heavy sigh. Come to think of it, he supposed he hadn't really thought about it. He'd assumed that upon marrying Onara he'd become her consort or something, but why he would think such a thing since he was well aware only men were allowed to rule on Ahjane, he had no idea. Then he grimaced as he felt a pin pierce his left leg.
The tailor, who was kneeling at Obi-Wan's feet as he adjusted the trousers, looked up. "Forgive me, my lord."
Obi-Wan looked over at Onara. "See, that's what I mean. He just called me my lord. I'm not a my lord."
Onara smiled fondly at his outraged expression. "But you are, my love. You are the absolute ruler and supreme lord of my heart."
Obi-Wan's own heart softened at Onara's words. He gazed at her, wanting so much take her in his arms and shower her with kisses.
"And also of my province." Onara's dark eyes twinkled. "The day after tomorrow you will become Dynast Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I shall be yours and so will all that I possess."
Obi-Wan shook his head. A Dynast? That didn't sound like him at all. Onara must have noted his expression for she rose from the divan and walked over to him. She placed a hand on his arm, her expression anxious as she looked up at him.
"Does it truly displease you, my love, the thought of being Dynast?"
"What? No, not at all. It's just...." Obi-Wan sighed. "I don't know the first thing about being a Dynast."
Onara's troubled expression was quickly replaced by a wide smile. "Oh, is that all? Don't worry. Simtro and I will help you. But, as far as I'm concerned, you already are a Dynast. You're noble and strong, just and compassionate. Fitting qualities for a ruler, don't you think?"
Obi-Wan smiled and, leaning over, kissed Onara's cheek. Then he hissed as another pin pricked his leg.
"Sorry, my lord."
"It's all right. My fault."
Obi-Wan looked back at Onara, her perfume filling his senses, her nearness stirring the heat in his blood. Then he drew in a sharp gasp as she slowly ran the tip of her finger down his chest, which was bare underneath the wedding coat, her dark eyes gazing passionately up at him and, wherever she touched him, flames erupted on his skin. He leaned down to kiss her again and was rewarded with another pin prick.
"Perhaps, my lord, it would best if Lady Onara were to move back."
Onara laughed and stepped away. She returned to the divan and watched as the tailor finished his adjustments of the trousers and coat. Obi-Wan looked over at her. He had yet to tell her about his dream or vision---for he wasn't sure what to call what had happened to him---regarding his parents, Qui-Gon and Ben.
But, whatever it had been, he had decided not to tell her of it. She'd been so happy over his quick recovery, and was now so full of excitement regarding their upcoming wedding that he had not wanted to darken her joy with reminders of Ben. After they were married he would tell her. Then he was reminded of something he'd wanted to ask her.
"Onara, how is it that you know how I'm going to look on our wedding day, but I have no idea how you're going to look? I've yet to see your dress."
Onara flashed him a teasing smile. "And you won't. Not until the wedding."
"It hardly seems fair."
"Oh, it's not, not at all." Onara then dimpled as Obi-Wan began to protest. "But it's a woman's prerogative to keep her wedding dress a secret from her husband-to-be, so you'll just have to wait."
Obi-Wan wondered if she was going to be heavily veiled, the way she'd been when she married Edress. He was about to ask her, but she must have seen the look on his face, for she shook her head in a warning fashion.
"Don't even think about it. I'm not telling you what my dress looks like. You'll have to wait until the wedding."
Obi-Wan released a sigh, them made himself stand still as the tailor completed his adjustments. Once he was done, he went behind a screen and carefully removed the wedding clothing, which he handed to the tailor. He then put back on the tunic and pants he'd been wearing.
Stepping from behind the screen he saw the tailor was on his way out of the chamber, assuring Onara he would have everything done in time for the wedding. Then, just as he was walking out, Simtro walked in, quickly passing him.
"Milady, milord." He bowed to both Onara and Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan suppressed a grimace. He wasn't officially going to become a Dynast until the wedding but everyone in the manor was already treating him like one.
Onara walked over to the major-domo. "Simtro, what's wrong?"
Obi-Wan looked closer at Simtro and saw an anxious expression on his weathered face.
"There's someone here, milady. To see Master Kenobi."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "To see me? Who?"
"It might be best, milord, if you came and saw for yourself."
Obi-Wan and Onara exchanged a look. Offering her his arm, Obi-Wan followed Simtro out of his chamber, down the hall and to the wide staircase that led to the foyer. Then, when he saw who it was, he flew down the stairs, Onara behind him.
"Anakin!"
Anakin stood just inside the manor's entryway. As Obi-Wan drew closer he saw his former padawan's robe and clothing were dusty and splattered with mud, his face drawn and pale as if he hadn't slept in days. But there was no mistaking the warm happiness in those bright blue eyes, despite the dark shadows under them.
"Master! You're alive. You're all right."
"What, by the Ancients, are you doing here, Anakin?"
Anakin stared at him, his blue, somewhat feverish gaze seeming to drink Obi- Wan in. "You're alive, Master. You're all right."
Then, with those repetitive, gladsome words, Anakin suddenly fell to the floor. Obi-Wan's heart lurched in his chest as he quickly knelt next to him, placing his fingers on Anakin's neck. There was a pulse, steady and strong.
He looked up at the major-domo. "Simtro, get help."
Simtro turned and hurried away. Onara knelt next to Anakin and took his hand. "Is he all right?"
Obi-Wan reached out with the Force and enveloped it around Anakin, closing his eyes as he focused. Then he opened them. "He doesn't appear injured. Just exhausted."
Onara patted Anakin's hand. "Poor thing. When Simtro returns I'll have him send for a physician."
Obi-Wan nodded, then looked back at Anakin. What had driven his former padawan to such desperate measures as to come to Ahjane? And where was Master Nygee? As he stroked Anakin's hair a wave of guilt washed over him and he couldn't help feeling that, somehow, this was all his fault.
He leaned closer, his voice low and soothing. "Don't worry, Padawan. I'm here. I'm here."
To be continued....
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Jiah cursed softly under her breath as she gingerly applied icing to the cake. Normally she would have wanted to spend weeks planning and baking a wedding cake, especially for the wedding of her beloved mistress, but time was now of the essence.
"You missed a spot."
Jiah pursed her lips, keeping her attention on the cake and ignoring Malari. The younger woman leaned closer.
"Watch it." Her voice sharp, Jiah flashed a warning look as Malari almost jostled her arm.
Malari stepped back, her broad, wholesome face flushing red under its patches of flour. "Sorry."
Jiah released a soft sigh. "It's all right, Malari." She leaned away from the cake. "We're all a bit frazzled. Who would have thought Master Kenobi would heal so quickly." She shook her head in wonder. "A wound that should have killed him and he's healed of it in a week."
"Well, he is a Jedi, after all. It's said they have magical powers."
Jiah shrugged. "I wouldn't know about that. But, I do know I was sure I'd have at least a month, if not more, before he was well enough so that he and milady could marry. But what happens? He heals in a week and Onara decides she wants the wedding to be held the day after tomorrow."
Malari giggled. Jiah flashed her a questioning look. "What's so funny?"
"It looks to me that not only is Master Kenobi eager, and perhaps that's why he healed so quickly, but so is Lady Onara."
"Eager? Eager to do what?"
Malari stared wide-eyed at Jiah as if the head cook had grown another head. "Do what? Why, snuggle into the marriage bed, of course." A knowing look fell across the assistant cook's florid face. "And I don't blame milady for wanting to get that one between the sheets as quickly as possible."
Jiah waved a floured hand at her, but she was used to the younger woman's suggestive comments. "Really, Malari."
Malari grinned at her. "Even you can't have grown so old and cold in the blood that you can't appreciate Master Kenobi's _assets_." Then she winked at the head cook.
Jiah put her hands on her broad hips and confronted Malari. "I'm not that old I'll have you know, and, although it's been years since I laid my poor, dear husband to rest, Sithara bless and keep him until I join him in the House of Eternal Light, there's still blood in my veins and it can run just as hot and quick as yours. So, to answer your question, yes, I can and do appreciate Master Kenobi's assets as you call them, but I've got work to do and so do you. So let's get to it."
Malari reared back, fearful she'd offended Jiah. Then she saw a twinkle in the head cook's eyes and relaxed. The two shared a laugh. Then, apparently unwilling to leave the subject of Obi-Wan alone, Malari leaned close to Jiah.
"Is it true Master Kenobi refused to participate in the blessing ceremony when Lady Onara married Edress?"
Jiah, who had returned to her cake decorating, nodded. "Put up quite the fuss he did."
"But why? It's a great honor to be asked."
"You'll have to ask him."
"Oh, no, oh no, I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing."
Jiah's mouth curled up in a smile. Although Malari, like most of the young servant women in the manor, found the Jedi very attractive and was not adverse to gossiping about him when he wasn't around, as soon as he appeared Malari, and the rest, became as witless as geese.
Jiah shrugged at Malari's words. "Then you'll just have to remain in the dark as to why he didn't want to participate in the ceremony. But, neither did Lady Onara."
"Truly?"
Jiah nodded. "Put up as much a fuss as he did. And Lady Tsara was fit to be tied at her refusal to go through with it. She ranted and raved about the manor like a zalot in labor, cursing and threatening the poor girl with words that would chill your blood. But, she'd always been unkind to Onara. From the day she was born."
Malari shuddered at the mention of Onara's grandmother. Although she had not been employed at the manor when Lady Tsara was alive, the story of the old dragon's machinations, which had resulted not only in the unexpected and unsanctioned birth of her great-grandson, but the murder of her own son, Dynast K'lia, by the Red Tide she had hired to kidnap Ben, was legend about the manor.
"But they did finally perform the ceremony?"
Jiah smiled. "Of course they did. And they both fell in love that very night, but only to be parted the following morning." She released a heavy, sad sigh. "So much grief and pain has flowed from that night." She clucked her tongue. "My poor, poor lady. First her father, then her husband and sweet little one. All murdered. All dead." She wiped at her eyes.
Malari touched Jiah's arm. "I've heard Ben was a lovely child."
The head cook sniffed, nodded and returned to her decorating. "That he was. That he was. But...," and with a deep, satisfied release of her breath she finished the cake "....with this wedding, hopefully, my lady will finally have some lasting happiness and, best of all, there will once more be the sound of children in this house."
Malari nodded in agreement, a wide smile on her broad face.
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"But I don't want to be Dynast."
"Really, Obi-Wan, you sound just like a little boy. And whining doesn't become you. And if you don't stop fidgeting you're going to get pricked."
Obi-Wan looked over at Onara who was sitting on a cream-colored divan, her dark eyes sparkling with delight. The two, along with a tailor who was making adjustments to Obi-Wan's wedding coat and trousers, were in his chambers. The wedding was the day after tomorrow, and Obi-Wan was so nervous the butterflies in his stomach felt like hawk-bats, whipping about his insides with sharp, thick wings.
"If I sound like I'm whining, I don't mean to, but why is it that I didn't find out until today that by marrying you I become Dynast."
Onara tilted her head, smiling winsomely at him. "Because you didn't ask."
Obi-Wan released a heavy sigh. Come to think of it, he supposed he hadn't really thought about it. He'd assumed that upon marrying Onara he'd become her consort or something, but why he would think such a thing since he was well aware only men were allowed to rule on Ahjane, he had no idea. Then he grimaced as he felt a pin pierce his left leg.
The tailor, who was kneeling at Obi-Wan's feet as he adjusted the trousers, looked up. "Forgive me, my lord."
Obi-Wan looked over at Onara. "See, that's what I mean. He just called me my lord. I'm not a my lord."
Onara smiled fondly at his outraged expression. "But you are, my love. You are the absolute ruler and supreme lord of my heart."
Obi-Wan's own heart softened at Onara's words. He gazed at her, wanting so much take her in his arms and shower her with kisses.
"And also of my province." Onara's dark eyes twinkled. "The day after tomorrow you will become Dynast Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I shall be yours and so will all that I possess."
Obi-Wan shook his head. A Dynast? That didn't sound like him at all. Onara must have noted his expression for she rose from the divan and walked over to him. She placed a hand on his arm, her expression anxious as she looked up at him.
"Does it truly displease you, my love, the thought of being Dynast?"
"What? No, not at all. It's just...." Obi-Wan sighed. "I don't know the first thing about being a Dynast."
Onara's troubled expression was quickly replaced by a wide smile. "Oh, is that all? Don't worry. Simtro and I will help you. But, as far as I'm concerned, you already are a Dynast. You're noble and strong, just and compassionate. Fitting qualities for a ruler, don't you think?"
Obi-Wan smiled and, leaning over, kissed Onara's cheek. Then he hissed as another pin pricked his leg.
"Sorry, my lord."
"It's all right. My fault."
Obi-Wan looked back at Onara, her perfume filling his senses, her nearness stirring the heat in his blood. Then he drew in a sharp gasp as she slowly ran the tip of her finger down his chest, which was bare underneath the wedding coat, her dark eyes gazing passionately up at him and, wherever she touched him, flames erupted on his skin. He leaned down to kiss her again and was rewarded with another pin prick.
"Perhaps, my lord, it would best if Lady Onara were to move back."
Onara laughed and stepped away. She returned to the divan and watched as the tailor finished his adjustments of the trousers and coat. Obi-Wan looked over at her. He had yet to tell her about his dream or vision---for he wasn't sure what to call what had happened to him---regarding his parents, Qui-Gon and Ben.
But, whatever it had been, he had decided not to tell her of it. She'd been so happy over his quick recovery, and was now so full of excitement regarding their upcoming wedding that he had not wanted to darken her joy with reminders of Ben. After they were married he would tell her. Then he was reminded of something he'd wanted to ask her.
"Onara, how is it that you know how I'm going to look on our wedding day, but I have no idea how you're going to look? I've yet to see your dress."
Onara flashed him a teasing smile. "And you won't. Not until the wedding."
"It hardly seems fair."
"Oh, it's not, not at all." Onara then dimpled as Obi-Wan began to protest. "But it's a woman's prerogative to keep her wedding dress a secret from her husband-to-be, so you'll just have to wait."
Obi-Wan wondered if she was going to be heavily veiled, the way she'd been when she married Edress. He was about to ask her, but she must have seen the look on his face, for she shook her head in a warning fashion.
"Don't even think about it. I'm not telling you what my dress looks like. You'll have to wait until the wedding."
Obi-Wan released a sigh, them made himself stand still as the tailor completed his adjustments. Once he was done, he went behind a screen and carefully removed the wedding clothing, which he handed to the tailor. He then put back on the tunic and pants he'd been wearing.
Stepping from behind the screen he saw the tailor was on his way out of the chamber, assuring Onara he would have everything done in time for the wedding. Then, just as he was walking out, Simtro walked in, quickly passing him.
"Milady, milord." He bowed to both Onara and Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan suppressed a grimace. He wasn't officially going to become a Dynast until the wedding but everyone in the manor was already treating him like one.
Onara walked over to the major-domo. "Simtro, what's wrong?"
Obi-Wan looked closer at Simtro and saw an anxious expression on his weathered face.
"There's someone here, milady. To see Master Kenobi."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "To see me? Who?"
"It might be best, milord, if you came and saw for yourself."
Obi-Wan and Onara exchanged a look. Offering her his arm, Obi-Wan followed Simtro out of his chamber, down the hall and to the wide staircase that led to the foyer. Then, when he saw who it was, he flew down the stairs, Onara behind him.
"Anakin!"
Anakin stood just inside the manor's entryway. As Obi-Wan drew closer he saw his former padawan's robe and clothing were dusty and splattered with mud, his face drawn and pale as if he hadn't slept in days. But there was no mistaking the warm happiness in those bright blue eyes, despite the dark shadows under them.
"Master! You're alive. You're all right."
"What, by the Ancients, are you doing here, Anakin?"
Anakin stared at him, his blue, somewhat feverish gaze seeming to drink Obi- Wan in. "You're alive, Master. You're all right."
Then, with those repetitive, gladsome words, Anakin suddenly fell to the floor. Obi-Wan's heart lurched in his chest as he quickly knelt next to him, placing his fingers on Anakin's neck. There was a pulse, steady and strong.
He looked up at the major-domo. "Simtro, get help."
Simtro turned and hurried away. Onara knelt next to Anakin and took his hand. "Is he all right?"
Obi-Wan reached out with the Force and enveloped it around Anakin, closing his eyes as he focused. Then he opened them. "He doesn't appear injured. Just exhausted."
Onara patted Anakin's hand. "Poor thing. When Simtro returns I'll have him send for a physician."
Obi-Wan nodded, then looked back at Anakin. What had driven his former padawan to such desperate measures as to come to Ahjane? And where was Master Nygee? As he stroked Anakin's hair a wave of guilt washed over him and he couldn't help feeling that, somehow, this was all his fault.
He leaned closer, his voice low and soothing. "Don't worry, Padawan. I'm here. I'm here."
To be continued....
