Author's Note:
Thanks again, Falcona. :) Sorry about the tiny bit longer wait than usual. Friends' sleepovers, you know.
A few of one character's thoughts are a little confusing, but they're sort of meant to be, considering she knows things she intentionally doesn't think about the details of, though they do influence her thinking.
I'm running out of chapters! Argh! (Actually, more like forewarning my readers in case an update doesn't come as fast as they expect one of these days…)
Enjoy! :)

Chapter Fourteen

"Thank you for coming, Jedi Solo."
"Of course, Your Highness." Jedi Knight Jacen Solo stood in the midst of Naboo's royal court.
Queen Ramallia's painted face betrayed no emotion, serene in the midst of her advisors. Her red robes and gold headdress looked heavy. "I am grateful for your protection on this vacation. It is not uncommon for assassins to strike at such a time. Perhaps your presence will prevent a successful attempt."
He bowed low. "I certainly hope so, Your Highness."
As he lifted his head, he caught a glimpse of an apparently staring handmaiden from the corner of his eye. Her flaming hood hid her expression from view.
"Thank you, Jedi Solo." The Queen waved an ornately adorned arm towards an officer. "Captain Ugama will bring you up-to-date."
As Jacen followed the Naboo captain out, he made a mental note to learn what he could of the Queen and her court, especially her mysteriously cloaked handmaidens.

Face impassive, she calmly ate the gruel placed before her.
"Ugh!" Sokor looked at her in disgust. "I can't believe you're eating that stuff!"
She shrugged clumsily. Her other friend eyed her, then swiped the bowl's edge with a finger.
Wiala licked her finger. "That's not as bad as it looks."
Sokor laughed. "Speak for yourself. I did try that stuff once—made me sick!"
"You must have a weak stomach," she answered absently. To be honest, the gruel did smell—and taste—disgusting, but she'd had worse.
Much worse.
She squelched the ensuing worry in the bud. She couldn't risk thinking about that—not now.
Sokor had been bubbling with contained exitement for the past week. Finally, he was about to share it with them. She looked at her friend.
"Hey, you guys think you'd be allowed to come on vacation with me?"
Allowed? That was something she hadn't been asked in… a very long time. "Of course."
Wiala flinched. "I can come… but where?"
Sokor shrugged. "Mom won't tell me. Do you mind?" At Wiala's slow head shake, he turned to her. "Tira?"
She hesitated. If she left Naboo… "Will there be Jedi?"
Sokor grinned, and she could tell he'd guessed she'd be the one to ask that question. He lowered his voice. "Get this—Jacen Solo. Can you believe it?"
Of course. He's distractible, she silently replied, careful to shield the thought. It wouldn't do for the Sokor to accidentally pick that up. Having Her Highness wonder about her actual identity was quite enough.
Wiala politely responded with a headshake, but if Sokor had been expecting an outburst from his two female friends he was sorely disappointed. Tira felt like expending some energy. She stood.
"Guess who's meeting Jacen Solo!" she called. The room's sudden silence just as suddenly developed into shrieks of crazy teenage—and younger—girls.
Crazy. Tira winced.
"What'd you do that for?" complained Sokor as the crowd of gigging and screaming and fainting and blubbering girls pressed around them for details. "I'd like to leave the cafeteria sometime today."
Tira just looked at him. "We will." She turned back to her meal, looking forward to clearing out the girls afterwards. That would be satisfying.
Miss Harili approached them—tried to, at least. Tira flung her fibercord in the path the woman would take, the crowd jumping out of the way when they heard the cord's snap against the floor.
 "Tira?"
She nodded respectfully at their instructor. "Ma'm?"
"You have a caller. A Valara Saar?"
Wiala started, staring with wide eyes at Tira.
She sighed inwardly. So the girl knew. Standing, she was centimeters taller than either friend. "I'm coming." Afraid of the athlete, the lovesick females cleared out of her way.
As she strode purposefully towards the school's comm station, Tira thought about the last time she'd spoken to Valara, back…
A very long time ago.
Catching herself, she stopped the self-conscious rubbing of her right arm. It had been months since the transfer, but it still felt funny to actually have a limb, there.
Calling on what little training her mother had given her before her death, she stood loosely ready as she called up the signal.
A well-preserved though old face stared back at her, the flickering transmission revealing the distance between the communicants.
"So the fatherless one has returned."
She nodded deferentially. "Valara Saar."
The old woman's shrewd gray gaze pierced her keenly, but she showed no discomfort—indeed, felt none. Valara was nothing compared to the Masters both had known.
"You show me more kindness than I ever have you."
Tira smiled slightly. "The brat insults what she does not know."
Again, those steel knives pierced her. "Strong words, coming from an untrained child."
"Ignorant words, spoken by a half-trained hag," she retorted bluntly. Mentally, she smiled. If she only knew!
Valara had grown in control through the—
Very long time.
"I did not call you for your insults," Tira smoothly continued, holding up a hand to halt the woman's reply. Respectfully, she lowered her hand—and her voice. "I need your help."
Valara Saar stared at Tira, struck speechless.
"I will call you again with a rendevous when I know where I will be," she said quietly.
The partially trained woman drew a breath, slowly digesting what she'd just heard. The trainees had held no respect for Tira. Valara's helping her now would begin uniting them; or so Tira hoped.
"I will come."
Despite the gruff tone, despite the abrupt termination, despite even the sour face, Tira sighed with relief. A victory, ever so small, had been won over Valara's prejudice.
Smiling slightly, her fingers reached for the door panel.
Agony ripped through her mind.
Ryoo! No!!!!
About to reveal herself, Tira panicked, performing the first fail-safe that came to mind.
The world exploded.

Jacen found himself oddly reminded of the Chiss library as he probed the library's files. Like those books, Naboo's library was a chore to sift through.
"Need some help?" Deftly, the handmaiden he'd noticed earlier removed her hood.
The flaming red hair and sharp green eyes reminded him, oddly enough, of Aunt Mara. But this woman had chopped her hair off around the ears, and her bright eyes matched the leaves outside the window.
She stepped forward.
"Ah." Jacen turned back to the holoscreen.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You remind me of my aunt." He glanced at her. "She's a predator, too."
The handmaiden cast back her head and howled with laughter. "I'm a predator? You should meet my friends!"
She settled down with surprising abruptness. "I ask again: need some help?"
Jacen considered. "Know where I can find out about the Queen's handmaidens?"
"Like me?" Lithe and petite, she strode around him to a specific drawer. "Here." She handed him something large and heavy.
A book.
Jacen sighed. "Is this the only source?"
"As far as I know."
The Jedi Knight carried it to a table. Flipping through, he noticed something stuck to the back of a highly damaged page. Carefully, he peeled it off, the dark brown substance holding it to the page flaking off.
Blood.
An image flashed in his mind—a painted tan-skinned Queen, frantically trying to dispose of this little note in the darkened library as she is found and… murdered, by someone she knows, making sure her blood hides this note as her last act…
He gently unfolded the crinkly page, the writer's simply elegant hand still visible, if he squinted. He frowned. What could possibly be so important that the Naboo Queen herself would die to hide it?
Jacen shrugged. The only way to know was to read it.

Sabé has a son!
She brought him to the Senatorial banquet Mom hosted in honor of Queen Jamillia's birthday. She finally introduced me to her husband, Marson Solo. He suits her perfectly. I said so, and Sabé joked it would take a Jedi to settle me down.
Sabé saw it stung. I know I shouldn't have told her, but living a lie for her is like telling Sola I'm not in love with my bodyguard. We both know I am; my sister has probably even guessed my secret.
I don't just love a Jedi; I've married him.
It's getting a little obvious, I fear; he's getting increasingly possessive. Nonetheless, he still had the presence of mind to tease me when Sabé asked the two of us to be Han's godparents.
The delight in his eyes when he accepted makes me worried. Could I have made the wrong decision with Benji?
It felt so right, though… And Master Yoda has been urging me to trust my instincts.
My bodyguard happily played peek-a-boo with Han, a sight that warmed me, changing my mind.
I'm not giving Sola our next child.
There's hope for Anakin yet.
Jacen shook his head fiercely, then reread the note.
"Jedi Solo?" The forgotten handmaiden tapped his shoulder. "You're as white as a sheet."
He swallowed. "I, uh…" He held it up. "I just found my dad's parents."
"Really?" The woman sat in the chair beside him, leaning to look at the note—a diary entry, really. "Marson and Sabé Solo, huh?" She read the rest.
She jumped her feet. "And Anakin?"
The shock and horror in her voice were unmistakable.
Jacen looked at her. "Do you think I could keep this?"
It took a minute for the woman to reply. "That would be up to Her Majesty, of course, but…" She shook her head. "There's another Skywalker?"
"If this is genuine."
"Well, that's a given."
When Jacen thought about it, he found the note's contents highly unlikely. To have gone this long, without being found? —Well, dried blood did bother most people. But without Benji trying to contact his Jedi Master brother?
Unless, of course, Benji was dead.
Taking care not to damage the brittle paper, he held it lightly in his hand. "Let's go see if I can keep this."
The handmaiden nodded, leading the way back to the Queen's court.