The Festival was the next day, and Luke took the chance to dress in less formal clothes while they went out to the early morning fair. A light brown tunic over a green shirt and trousers—he felt like a sprite from legend, but fit right into the Festival crowd.

Pooja accompanied him out of the Palace, far more nervous than he was. She was wearing a tunic like Luke's but had topped it with a short cape and hood, which she could pull over her tightly braided hair at a moment's notice. For a moment, when they passed the Palace guards and stepped off the marble stairs for the first time, she froze. Palace Plaza spiralled in front of them, swirling with colour, music, and laughter. She made to pull her hood up, but Luke caught her gloved hand in his and tugged.

"Come on!" he called. "I said we'd meet them outside the Palace courtyard!"

The Palace courtyard was at the other end of Palace Plaza. The plaza itself was packed. People ebbed and flowed around stalls set up in vague rows along the wide boulevard, but enough had been jolted out of place that the movement was like water through rocky rapids.

It was stressful to wade through, but when Luke wasn't trying to stop and buy the many trinkets flashed in his face, it was exciting as well. He kept a tight grip on Pooja's hand; she gripped him too, as they dodged and pulled each other through. He didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know where his sister was, and he'd missed being that in sync.

The crowd was pressed right up against the gates to the Palace courtyard, so Luke had to stand on his tiptoes to spot where their family were waiting. There. Ryoo, taller than her mother, had climbed one of the pedestals and was trying to spot them as well. Luke waved.

When he got closer, he could make out the others. Darred was standing underneath his daughter, eyeing her with amusement, while Sola had her arms wrapped around her midriff. The moment she spotted them, she opened them up. "Pooja!"

Luke expected Pooja to let go of his hand and run right into her mother's embrace, based on how she had behaved before. She didn't. She clung to him, even, her other hand coming up to hold his shoulder, until they were a metre away from Sola and Pooja stiffly stepped forwards. Sola wrapped her arms around her; Pooja's came up after a moment to hold her back.

Ryoo jumped down from the pedestal, leaving be the poor statue of a Gungan warrior she'd been clinging to. Her dress flared as she landed, and Luke glimpsed several layers of white petticoats under the yellow-gold dress. It had a neat collar and buttons down the front, but the red embroidery over the bodice picked out various flowers and animals.

She saw him looking. "Have you guessed the era yet?" she teased.

"Early Republic," he said. "That imported style from Chandrila—height of the naturalist craze."

She hugged him. "I told you that you were the only one who listened to my rambles."

He muttered in her ear, "Nice choice. Highlighting the interconnectedness of the Republic at the Festival of Light when the Queen is an isolationist."

"I won't get in trouble."

"You won't. That's what makes it funnier. Can you design my next few Senate outfits?"

"Can I get you put on an Imperial watchlist for treason, you mean?"

"I'm insulted you don't think I'm already on one."

She laughed and drew back, analysing his own tunic. "Boring," she said. "Is that Sabé's? She tends to favour block colours as well."

Luke liked block colours because of the sheer indulgence. They were cheaper than the complicated embroidery and patterning, here, but on Tatooine that much dye to get the whole garment one colour was a luxury. "I do have my own wardrobe, Ryoo."

"You wouldn't be the first politician to not have. Sometimes I doubt Amidala has"—she lowered her voice, considering Pooja was right next to them—"so many of her public outfits are so carefully gauged. I have fun watching Senate speeches sometimes and trying to figure out what subliminal messaging she's going for."

Luke frowned. "I wasn't aware there was that much to it." All politicians knew how their outfits influenced their viewers. But there was a big jump from that to subliminal messaging.

"There's so much more than that! For example: she never wears black. At least, not in public. I've searched so hard, and I've never seen her wearing it."

"Why not?" Black was a perfectly innocent colour on Naboo—usually. It tended to be associated with darkness, but that wasn't always negative. The night was one of the loveliest times, especially in the Lake Country, and a lot of dinner or evening gowns were black or dark blue. It was a warm sort of colour.

But… "Vader," Luke said. "Palpatine."

"Exactly. And I think she puts too much focus on her fashion, to be honest. She's afraid of what she might be indicating if she wears black. Like she's siding with Palpatine's fashion tastes? Like this is a dark time? She tiptoes around it all." Ryoo grinned. "Have a look at whatever she wears at the speech today. I'm excited."

She turned to her sister. Pooja was standing awkwardly in front of her father, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, chatting. Ryoo hugged her from behind, making Pooja jump.

"I missed you!" she said. "Why did you never come back? And why do you have this big hood on."

Pooja snorted and spun around, clasping her sister's hands. "I like hoods."

"You're wearing gloves as well? What are you, a monarchist-era servant?"

Luke winced. Pooja said, "All of Empress Amidala's handmaidens are to wear these violet hoods and gloves today. So that we're easily identifiable by stormtroopers and Imperials."

"Oh." Ryoo let go of her hands. "You like working for… Empress Amidala?" The weight she put on the title was not subtle.

Pooja rolled her eyes. "Aunt Padmé is very sweet. I promise you Grandpa is wrong about her. I assume Luke told you she wanted to meet with everyone?"

"Grandpa might be wrong about her, but am I wrong about her?" Sola cut in. It wasn't accusatory, just… worried. "She is still… devoted to the wrong cause."

"You are," Pooja said sharply. "She's devoted to the right cause."

Luke made to push her, then shoved it down. Now was not the time to start an argument. There'd be plenty of time for that later. Thankfully, no one else in the immediate family was going to pick a fight right now either—the only person who would have was Ruwee, and Jobal had banned him from coming.

It was a shame. Ruwee loved the festival fair.

Darred squeezed Pooja's shoulder. "I need to head to the stall," he said. "I'll meet you later."

"Where's your stall?"

"We're just off and below the plaza."

"Fruitmarket Street like usual?"

He smiled. "Yeah."

"I'll be by later." Pooja gave her dad a quick hug. "I heard you're launching those automated stormtrooper toys—I and the other handmaidens are really excited to see them."

Luke saw Darred freeze in something like horror, but he turned away before Pooja could notice.

She linked arms with Luke and Ryoo. "Shall we go?"

Ryoo nodded, already pulling them all forwards. Luke, stressed at the tightness of the crowds ahead of them, slipped out of Pooja's grip to walk more sedately beside Sola, who took his hand gratefully. "Come on—I saw a pop-up theatre stage on the way here! I want to check if it's a historical play."

"And complain about their inaccurate costumes if it is?" Luke called after her.

"Of course!"


Padmé wandered the top floor of the Palace. It had taken a long time to find a good place to watch the fair from, but found it they had. The corridor that overlooked Palace Plaza curved at this point, with broad arched windows and flowerboxes that burst with colour. She perched herself in the window seat and stared out at the commotion, something like heartache in her chest.

"Do you remember the last time we went to the Festival of Light, Ani?" she asked. They were alone in the corridor—Vader was the only protection the Empress needed, of course—and she was enjoying their pseudo-private moment.

"I remember there was a threat on Palpatine's life."

"If only it had succeeded," she mourned. "Though at least the speeches were dramatic. You got electrocuted, didn't you? And Obi-Wan… his deception…"

Ice spread across the glass. She frowned, careful that her husband couldn't see her reflection. So, Obi-Wan was still deeply, deeply important to him. An open wound. With how rapidly he'd dropped the pursuit of him several weeks ago, she'd dared to hope he'd finally come to a revelation about that man. Or rather, about his obsession with him.

Apparently not.

"But before that." She smiled. "We went to the fair, remember? I had to leave early and get dressed far too soon, which I expect young Luke will have to do, but it was a delightful hour while it lasted. Ahsoka was such a charming girl."

"Ahsoka is dead," Vader said.

"I know." She sighed. "They all are."

"Kenobi is not."

"Not yet." Her gaze caught on something moving through the crowd—the violet hood Pooja was wearing. Pooja had stopped at a stall while a young woman, presumably her sister, examined the necklaces there. The golden head just behind them had to be Luke, and the older woman…

Sola.

That was definitely heartache in her chest, now.

She was so busy watching her sister that she almost didn't notice when a figure in a brown hood knocked into Luke—only noticed because Luke then knocked into Sola as well. Sola's face contorted in anger at the rudeness, turning to Luke, but Luke shook off her hand. He was staring after the figure.

As Sola turned to the stall and its trinkets, Luke turned to watch the man's retreat. He ducked between two stalls towards the Palace courtyard and stopped outside the gate that led to the gardens. Luke stood, stationary in the dynamic flow of people around him, and stared as he lowered his hood for a brief moment.

Padmé restrained a gasp. Glanced at her husband, then back down. The figure was gone.

Vader noticed her dismay, but characteristically could not determine the cause. "If you are keen to go down there, I am sure your handmaidens could have you adequately disguised in time."

Padmé dragged her gaze back to her family—Pooja and Luke's family. Luke had vanished from the knot of women, but Sola was fixing a new pair of earrings to Ryoo's ears. Jobal had used to do that to Padmé.

"No," she said. It wasn't the festival fair that she was mourning. "Not yet."


They took a while to actually find the play that Ryoo had been talking about. The fair was chaotic enough that they just kept shunting about, and every member of their group was excited enough to stop at every stall that held their interest. The latest one was an admittedly beautiful jewellery stall, its wares glittering under the morning sun.

"Oh, I like these." Ryoo pulled Pooja towards them, and Luke and Sola followed. "Mum, weren't you looking for a new necklace after your nice silver one broke?"

"I was." Sola meandered over. "These are lovely."

Pooja was peering at the rings. Luke was tempted by some of them—there were a nice set of earrings that would go well with some of his senatorial outfits. One design caught his eye.

It wasn't even on the jewellery that he noticed it. Rather, the crimson cloth that shielded the back of the stall, and some of the scarves that the necklaces were laid on. It was hard to miss the gold printed pattern of millaflowers.

There was nothing unusual about it. Millaflowers were a common Naboo flower, and they'd been used as motifs in art for centuries. But in the current political climate, they were given too much weight for it to be innocent.

He swallowed and controlled his reaction. His makeup hid his fierce, panicked flushing. He had passed by installations that were all sorts of provocative on the way here—news stalls, a cartoonist's stall, bookshelves of satirical novels, buskers that sang protest songs. It was the spirit of the Festival of Light. It celebrated the Republic, and democracy, and freedom of the press. But this wasn't criticism of the Naboo government. This was flirting with criticising the Empire. And for what?

The motifs were in the jewellery as well. The stall owner noticed his attention.

"Would you like these?" she held up two gold millaflower earrings. They were lovely. "They'd suit you!"

"I… no thank you," Luke got out. "I—"

Someone bumped into him head on. Luke turned to look at him, and just caught the barest glimpse of his face.

Luke stumbled back into Sola, who steadied him by catching his elbow. "Are you alright, Luke?"

"Fine."

"What a rude man." She glared in his direction. "Could he not bother to— Luke?"

Luke blinked after him. "Hmm?"

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I… yeah." The figure, draped in a brown cloak, had retreated between two stalls, but Luke could still make him out. When he looked straight at Luke, lowered his hood slightly, and smiled… Luke recognised him. "I'll be right back. I wanna check out a stall I saw back there."

"Alright, but be careful—"

Luke was already gone.

He weaved between passersby and ducked behind the same stall the man had, heading towards the fence that lined the Palace grounds. One gate which Luke was fairly sure should be locked swung open under the man's touch, and Luke didn't hesitate to follow him out of the bustle of the market and under the cool trees. He stopped by a babbling stream—standing on the same bridge Vader had been standing on yesterday, as he stared at Luke.

Luke wasn't a fan of the parallel, but he still approached. "Ben?"

He smiled, turning to face him and removing his hood entirely.

"Ben Kenobi?"

The years had not been kind to Old Ben. He'd always been that eccentric hermit in the desert, but he'd aged even more aggressively since then. The heavy tan that no one really lost after living on Tatooine still touched his skin; dark lines creased his eyes and mouth. His hair was a shock of white, his skin clinging to his skull. But his smile was just as kind as the day he'd saved Luke's life.

"Hello, Luke," he said.

"What are you doing here?" Luke paused. "You're a hermit. I get why you'd leave Tatooine, but why here? What are you doing?" He looked around at the Palace gardens he'd led him to. They were technically open to the public, but…

"I was a hermit while I lived on Tatooine," Ben admitted. His voice was as low and warm as Luke remembered—his Coruscanti accent almost singlehandedly redeemed every Imperial snob Luke had ever heard with it. "But that's because I was there to watch over you."

"Why?"

"Do you know what this is, Luke?" Ben asked. He pulled out a metal cylinder, fashioned with knobs and ridges in seemingly arbitrary places.

"No, I—"

He jumped when Ben thumbed a button and a bright beam of light shot out. Ben was careful to manoeuvre it so it didn't damage the bridge, and the fierce sound it gave off was likely absorbed by the trees and the running stream.

"Is that a lightsaber?" Luke hastily looked left, right, up, but Ben had positioned them under a tree to shield from prying eyes from the palace. The only person allowed to carry a lightsaber anymore was…

Darth Vader.

He swallowed. Ben nodded and deactivated it. "It was your father's lightsaber."

The sound of the stream, the distant laughter of the fair, blackened and dampened like fog had rolled in. Luke grasped for the railing on the bridge before he fell, staring at Ben.

"Wh… what?"

He hadn't thought about his father in a long time.

He remembered his youthful obsession. That fascination with parents he'd never known, and the father who seemed so impossibly distant but was still his nearest point of reference, like a star he could see but never visit. Strange how that had faded—the thought still conjured a fierce curiosity in his chest, a burning desire to know, but… He had been uprooted again.

On Tatooine, he hadn't felt like he'd belonged, even with his aunt and uncle. How would his twelve-year-old self feel if he knew that soon he'd feel the same way on Naboo, with a new aunt and uncle and countless other relatives, with Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru being the newest stars in the untouchable constellation of the past?

At what point had he stopped wondering about his blood family, because his adoptive families were enough to deal with?

"My father," Luke tried, "was a navigator on a spice freighter."

"That was what Owen told you to keep you safe. He was worried that knowing about your heritage too soon would endanger you. Make you even more reckless."

That sounded like Uncle Owen. Luke resolved to immediately write to him this evening—and then remembered with a dull thud that he would likely receive no reply.

"Your father was a Jedi, Luke," Ben said gently. Luke stared at the lightsaber, then at him.

"Are you a Jedi too?" The words came stiffly.

"Yes. I was very close with your father. I stayed on Tatooine to protect you." Ben stepped forwards and put a hand on Luke's shoulder. He appreciated it. He was struggling to stand up. "There is so much more I need to tell you, and I cannot do it here. Your family will wonder at your absence. Will you meet me again later?"

"You're a Jedi. You must be a fugitive."

"I am. But I hear you are not opposed to Rebels and anti-Imperials."

Luke hissed out a breath. "Sabé?"

"She has been protecting you in my stead," Ben confirmed. "Will you meet me? Tonight. At midnight. I can give you the address."

Luke swallowed and stared at the lightsaber—his father's lightsaber. That longing, that connection to a father his aunt and uncle had refused to speak about, was roaring in his chest again.

Luke had always known that he would crawl to the ends of the galaxy for family.

"Tell me when," he said.


Luke slipped back out of the gardens and bought a trinket to justify his absence. Luckily, when he was scanning the nearest booksellers' stall, there was a gorgeous treatise on the failures of the Naboo justice system, written shortly before Queen Sanandrassa came to power. He forked over the credits, responded with a nod and a smile to, "Some light reading, Senator?" and returned to his family.

Pooja was scanning the crowd frantically and spotted him returning first. "Luke!" she chastised. "Where did you go!? I can't believe you slipped away from me!" She grabbed his arm.

"I wanted to buy something."

"What did you get?" She stared at the item in his hands eagerly and seemed to take a few moments to process what it was. "What—"

"It's a gift for Leia," he explained. Pooja looked at the title of the book, back up at Luke, and seemed torn on whether to smile pitifully or stare in dismay. She somehow did both.

"Luke!" Ryoo grinned when he got back. "We were waiting for you."

"You weren't waiting," Pooja accused, "you were shopping."

"I got these lovely earrings." Luke's heart nearly stopped when he saw the gold millaflower earrings gleaming in Ryoo's ears. Pooja didn't miss the subtle messaging, either—her grip on Luke tightened, and the look she gave her sister was something of a glower.

"They're beautiful," Luke got out.

Sola put a hand down on both his and Pooja's shoulders—hard. "We should head towards the stage," she said tightly. "They have a play about to begin."


Leia was impressed by the sheer amount of colour on Naboo. She'd known that Luke had a penchant for colourful outfits in the Senate, but she hadn't realised how important that was as a cultural thing. The fair was similar to ones she'd attended as princess on Alderaan, but it seemed… less restrained. She'd already walked past several vulgar things with amusement. For such a courtly culture, perhaps the Festival of Light was the time they could let loose.

Sabé was a good guide, as well. Leia had felt something off several times, but it was Sabé who'd run after the pickpockets and returned Leia's credits to her. Biggs and Evaan had done their best, but they were just as dazzled as she was.

Biggs perked his head up. "I think that's Luke over there!"

She turned her head, rising to her tiptoes to try to see over the crowd. It was him—with what looked like his sister and other Naberries as well. She clenched her jaw in resolution to not deal with Pooja and forged her way towards them through the stream of people. Sabé was way ahead of her, having already made a beeline for her charge.

The throng of people actually kept away from that stall, and once Leia was close enough she could see why: it was a puppet theatre. She'd walked past a few already, but this one seemed more sophisticated, with elegant dolls attached to numerous strings. There were a few large stones placed in a semicircle around the box to indicate the space for the viewers to stand. Leia sidled in next to Luke and breathed a sigh of relief at the reprieve from the crowd.

They shared a smile and a nod, then the play began. Four wooden silhouettes of cities sprang up against a backdrop of several gushing waterfalls. Leia only recognised Theed, but the voiceover named the others: Keren, Spinnaker, Moenia. The song, clear and pleasant, spoke of a great civil war between city states, as the puppet human warriors on the backs of kaadu clashed with energy weapons. After expositing on the humans, it shifted to the Gungan homes in the swamps, likewise warring with each other. The plot was clearly designed for children, in a fairy tale style: it advanced jerkily and dramatically, alliances between the humans and Gungans forming and breaking as the war rampaged on. Every soldier seemed to be battling for tiny lights that the actors scattered across the stage, glowing like molten gold. The more joined the stage, the more the lighting on the waterfalls in the backdrop shifted, until the waters went a thick, murky brown.

The topic seemed far more geared towards political intrigue than Leia was accustomed to in children's entertainment, but there was something endearing about the pantomime quality of it. There were children sitting and standing right at the front who clapped and cheered in the right places, booing when the villains—dressed in monotonous black and white colours—came onto the scene. Eventually, one of the human generals allied with the Gungans and united the 'good' city-states under one banner to crush the 'bad' ones.

After a scene where the Gungans and humans met and argued, the Gungan general storming out, the curtains closed. Everyone clapped loudly; one of Luke's sisters even whistled. Leia frowned. "Is that the end?"

Luke started, apparently lost in his own thoughts. "Oh—yes. That's the end. Did you enjoy it?"

"I did," she admitted. "Was that a true story?"

"A narrative of one, yeah, based on the Time of Suffering. It was a period where both the Gungans and the humans were engaged in civil war. For unrelated reasons, though the play usually links them for narrative purposes. That general who won was Jafan, who became the first king of the Naboo."

"Inherited or elected?"

"Inherited. We weren't democratic yet—not until we joined the Republic about two hundred years later."

"I was surprised at how dark it was. That was a lot of political intrigue for," she quietened her voice as the children jumped up and moved away, so as not to offend them, "eight-year-olds."

Luke only smiled wryly. "Eight-year-olds on Naboo carry out relief missions." He nodded at the play. "And that story gets taught in schools a lot. There's a thousand different political spins on it."

Leia nodded. "What version were we just watching?"

"A critical one, mostly. The Gungans and humans weren't allies at the end, where a lot of versions present them that way, with a ceremony to mirror Amidala's alliance and good relations with the Gungans. It gives her Jafan's legendary status. And it was critical of another king from about fifty years ago—Veruna—but most versions are nowadays."

"How so?"

He gestured at the curtains, still struck with the lights. "The storyline is about fighting over plasma mines. Veruna overruled the two-term limit to stay in power for thirteen years as an autocrat. He reopened the mines and got himself embroiled in dirty deals with the Trade Federation, the syndicates… When he was assassinated, he left a massive mess for his predecessors to clean up. These plays put him as the main villain in that old conflict and make fun of him."

Leia raised her eyebrows. "I didn't realise Naboo was being ruled by a dictator less than fifty years ago. You seem very intent on democracy." She paused. "A few outliers aside."

"Naboo wouldn't obsess over it so much if it wasn't constantly under threat." He looked at her for a moment. "Much like how Alderaan is a galactic supporter of democracy yet still has an inherited monarchy, I imagine."

She had to concede that. "A lot of baggage."

"Especially with the Gungans. Most people don't wanna dig into it." He remembered something and reached for his satchel, pulling out a small, token book. Most things were accessed digitally nowadays, but physical flimsi books were still used for the sensory experience. He handed it over. "I got this for you at one of the stalls. It looks good for research. Also, the white cover reminded me of you."

She took it with amusement. "I'm pretty sure my dress won't be fully white by day's end. There's already been some close calls with various drinks stalls."

Luke snorted. "It wouldn't hurt to wear a bit of colour."

"White is the colour of democracy. It's harder to hide corruption on a blank sheet."

Luke tilted his head. "Unless the corruption is that the blank sheet should have a law written on it."

"Maybe." She glanced down. "A book about the failings of Naboo's court system?"

"As I said. Research. And the baggage I mentioned. The cities still trial people with separate laws, based on their time as city-states, and some of them aren't… ideal."

Leia frowned. "How can we overcome that?" she asked. "Amidala—"

The curtains flew open again.

"What a coincidence," Luke said.

The puppet at centre stage was Queen Amidala, dressed in red like she was right at the start of the Invasion of Naboo.

Luke glanced over his shoulder. People were flocking around them now. If there was one topic that would draw a crowd on Naboo, for better or worse, it was her.

"We need to get out of here," he muttered. "Whether the play is pro- or anti-Amidala, there'll be blood."

Leia really hoped it was anti, and she was ready to push for it. She'd spent enough of her life believing pro-Amidala propaganda. "And two senators shouldn't get involved in such a scandal?" she said sharply. "We're already in the public eye for our opposition ideas."

"You don't understand how delicate a topic this is. There are throngs of people here. It's not going to be pretty, and the security volunteers will be here soon to stop it. We should go. Tell the others."

He probably knew better than she did, so she had to nod. There was a difference between expressing controversial opinions and getting in the middle of an unnecessary riot, even if it was just to satisfy her own conscience.

She turned to let Biggs and Evaan know—they were chatting just off to the side, uninterested in the play itself. They got a quick, low rundown, and she was gratified by how they immediately fell in around her. She had a good security team.

Luke seemed to be having more of a debate with his sisters—but not Pooja. Pooja had spotted Amidala, and presumably some subtle depictions in her puppet, and turned away immediately. The other woman seemed more intent on staying to watch, but Luke harried her until she caved.

Before Leia knew it, she was walking beside Pooja Naberrie, in their group's attempt to get through the throng. She had resolved to ignore her, but Pooja clearly hadn't.

"How are you finding Naboo, Princess?"

No matter how much she wanted to ignore her, etiquette won out. "It's beautiful. I can see where a lot of Luke's ideas come from."

"A lot of Luke's ideas come from Tatooine as well. He's a mix of cultures."

"And yourself?" Leia had to push. "You certainly don't espouse the values of Naboo philosophy, as far as I can see."

Pooja gritted her teeth. "Nor do you espouse the values of an inherited monarchy, Princess," she retorted. "Does that ever cross your mind?"

She was an experienced enough senator to hide her frustration, usually, but Pooja Naberrie always got under her skin. A flush rose in her cheeks. "How dare you presume to know how it works on my planet?"

"I don't know how it works," Pooja admitted. "Does it work at all?"


Much of the rest of the morning flew by in a giddy haze—as long as Luke kept Pooja and Leia apart. He knew he'd miss this sort of familiarity and chaotic hodgepodge of opinions when he got back to Coruscant, so he let himself soak it in, even as the time edged closer to eleven, when he needed to leave. But Ben's words weighed on his mind the whole time.

Describing Naboo customs to Leia had distracted him, but it just made the wound deeper. He was talking about Naboo instead of Tatooine. He'd forgotten the father he once dreamed about.

Eventually, he couldn't stand it. He'd meant to wait until the day was over to consult with Sabé about what had happened, but they had been standing in front of Darred's stall cooing over his invention for upwards of ten minutes, and Luke was about to vibrate out of his skin. There was a perfectly good alleyway right there.

"Sabé?" he asked, slinging an arm around her shoulder. She slipped one around his waist in return, squeezing him in a half-hug. "Can I talk to you?"

Her expression grew concerned; it made her response immediate. "Of course." When he inclined his head towards the alleyway, she led them there, making sure the others were distracted.

Pooja and Leia were arguing again. Tiresome, but at least they wouldn't be wondering where he was.

He barely waited for them to fall out of earshot before he muttered, "I met Ben Kenobi."

She didn't react with shock, like he was expecting. She just closed her eyes with exasperation. "A contact of mine mentioned he was on Naboo."

"He said to meet him at midnight tonight, and he'd tell me information about…" He swallowed. "My father. He was a Jedi?"

Sabé winced. "He was. Once."

"You did know, then. You didn't tell me?"

"It seemed a terrible thing to spring on a twelve-year-old."

"I'm not twelve anymore, am I?" His voice shook. "We just promised we'd be honest with each other." He took a ragged breath. "I didn't want to pry into your business, but this isn't just your business, it's mine."

"I know. And I think Ben is equipped to tell you everything in more detail than I could." She clasped his hand. "I'm not going to tell you now. It's a lot. And Jedi are illegal; it's dangerous. It was dangerous to let you know about him as a child. We were always going to tell you eventually."

"Who is we?"

She hesitated. "Do you remember Ashla?"

"Ashla was involved in this?"

"She knew your father as well. And your mother."

"My mother?"

"We can't talk about this here, Luke," she pleaded. "I know this is a massive secret—one you deserve to know. Let me explain everything later."

He paused… then nodded. "Should I meet with Ben, then?" he asked shakily. "I don't know him. He saved my life, but I haven't seen him in ten years."

"Ben Kenobi is a slippery bastard of a man. Entertaining to know, extremely frustrating to work with. He bends the truth like it's spacetime and has got away with outrageous things." She worked her jaw. Her next words were grudging. "But he's a good man. You can talk to him. And when he inevitably leaves some crucial detail out, I'll fill you in."

"Are you sure that you can't tell me everything first?" Luke asked.

"I wish I could."

"More secret pain and heartache," Luke diagnosed. She jabbed his side in response. "Got it. I won't push, Aunt Sabé. I just want to get the truth."

"You'll get it," she swore. "I promise."

Something buzzed. Sabé checked her chrono and scowled. "I don't want to end it here—either this conversation, or your romp through the fair. But that's eleven. You need to get back there and get dressed for the noon address."

He nodded and kissed her cheek. "Give Leia and the others my apologies."

"Give them yourself." She squeezed his shoulders again. "I'll be with you every step of the way."


Padmé stood in the dressing room of her apartments, grimacing at the constant noise from the waterfall just outside. At least the fan on her headdress disrupted some of the disturbance, but she was still getting persistent headaches.

Her outfit was coming together nicely. She needed to remind Naboo what she meant to them, what she had done for them. Her speech needed to do that work for her as well.

It was insulting, coming here and being treated like this. A stranger on the planet she'd served. The queen who'd followed in her footsteps had banished her from her palace. Her own family…

She swallowed.

She had Pooja. She would have Luke, soon. And she would get Naboo back as well. This wasn't an issue of invasion. This was an issue of public opinion. Those had always been the arenas Padmé fared best in, and she had let Naboo run wild under her radar for far too long.

Dormé was just adding the final touches to her outfit when Padmé's private comm rang. She frowned—the caller could not be identified. Only so many people had this frequency.

"That's all I'll need for now, Dormé," she said with a smile. "I just need to take this."

"Yes, milady."

The moment the door shut behind Dormé, Padmé accepted the call. Moteé's face sprang up.

She was dressed in the bawdy bold colours of a festival pedestrian. And Padmé recognised the bridge just behind her. It confirmed what she'd already known this call was about.

"Why is Kenobi on Naboo?" she demanded.

Moteé didn't question how she already knew. "I do not know, my lady."

"Is he trying to make contact with—"

"He shows no interest in Lord Vader, negative or positive. In fact, he's been actively planning his route to avoid him, I believe."

"Likely because he is the only one who would be able to sense his presence. Why is he here, then?"

"I don't know," Moteé said. "But I saw him make contact with Senator Naberrie."

"What?" Padmé had been hoping that the collision in the crowd had been a coincidence.

"He bumped into him. Senator Naberrie disappeared into the crowd a few minutes later—I didn't see where, I was trying to notice where Kenobi had gone—and didn't reappear for some time. I presume they made contact in some clandestine way. It didn't seem planned on the senator's part."

"What does Obi-Wan Kenobi want with my nephew?"

"Perhaps he's looking for a way in? Grooming him to betray you?"

"Luke will not be a way in for much longer." She steepled her fingers. "Why would he target him, now? Why not Pooja, when she first joined the Senate? What does he want?"

"Is Luke particularly close with Lord Vader?"

Padmé paused. "Yes and no. Luke despises him. My husband… seems obsessed." There might be more to that than she'd first thought. She should dig into it. "I will pursue this."

"Will you tell Lord Vader that Kenobi is on Naboo? If you wish for his obsession with him to end, Kenobi's death will be swift. I can give you his precise coordinates."

Padmé swallowed. "No. We don't need violence at this event, and Lord Vader is unpredictable." She didn't know what he'd do if he saw Obi-Wan again. She'd been keeping this search from him for a reason. "And his obsession seems to have faded in recent weeks." Since Luke had come to the Senate, in fact. Now that the connection had been pointed out to her, her mind was whirring. "No. For now, monitor him. Let me know if and when he tries to leave the planet. But make sure he does not interrupt the proceedings."

"If he does?"

"Immobilise him. If that works, capture him. If nothing else, I can be rid another issue, that way."

Moteé bowed her head. "Yes, my lady."

"And Moteé—if you can, wear a violet hood and gloves today. If riots break out, the security forces will keep you safe and return you to me."

"Would they not make me a target?"

"If they do, I'm sure you can handle it. And it may give us political clout with which to retake Naboo."

Moteé smiled. "Then I will, my lady. I look forward to seeing your speech."

"Thank you. Keep me abreast of your findings."

The hologram disappeared.

Padmé released a breath.

Why Kenobi? Why now?

What, she thought with something that was less panic, and more grim anticipation, was about to happen?