Chapter Nine

One more time Jag looked down at his comlink. One more time he read the message from last night. One more time. Just to make sure he hadn't misread it any of the previous – what was it now? at least twenty – times. But no. He hadn't.

Sorry about before. Just stressed. It's not you. Promise.

0830 right? I'll be there.

Except it was 0842, and she hadn't called or sent a message. Or shown up.

"Jag?" His mother. "Breakfast is ready."

He didn't feel like eating. He felt like throwing up. Or just running up to Jaina's – their! – room and pounding on the door until she agreed to talk to him. Refusing to leave until she told him everything. Never letting her out of his sight until they were good and married.

He blew out a sharp sigh, then whispered to himself, "You're being irrational."

You think? He could practically hear his own brain laughing at him. But it wasn't his brain in control right now. It was his heart.

It can't be happening again. I won't let it.

Somehow he compelled his hand to slip the comlink into his pocket. Ordered his feet to carry him into the spacious sitting room in his parents' suite. Commanded his legs to deposit his backside in the chair. And forced himself to pretend nothing was wrong.

As if the chair next to him wasn't empty.

Beginning to help himself to the array of hot and cold foods spread out in the middle of the table, he heard himself say, "It smells good."

"Aysht oud oo," said his brother.

"Pig," his sister said under her breath.

Cem swallowed, then gave a chagrined tip of the head to the table. "Sorry."

Soontir feigned inattention. "So Jagged, the rehearsal isn't until late this afternoon. What were you planning to do in the meantime?"

"Honestly," he said, and meant it, "I hadn't really thought about it." There hadn't been any plan except to spend time with Jaina. Now that plan apparently had changed.

For once in his life, Jag didn't have a Plan B.

Except the most immediate one: to eat. So he shoveled some more food onto his plate.

His father raised a brow at the quantity involved, but he said, "Excellent."

"Oh?" Syal paused, a forkful of steaming eggs held in midair. "And why is that, dear?"

"Because we need a day off. All of us."

"From what?" asked Wyn. "Didn't you go repulsorsurfing yesterday?"

Soontir narrowed his eyes. "I also held lengthy meetings with the Galactic Alliance Chief of State and Grand Master Skywalker. Separately, naturally. And poor Jagged here had the even more chilling experience of having to argue with a legal droid."

Syal grinned. "And I thought dealing with Raul was bad."

"Next time we'll trade, then," said Soontir. "In any event, there will be no such nonsense today. Relaxation is the rule of the day until the festivities resume. Grand Moff's orders."

"The rest of you can enjoy it," Cem said. "But there are too many dangers in play right now. I'll take my day off once this is all over."

Syal leaned forward in her chair. "Cem…"

"Your mother's right," Soontir said, wagging a fork in his general direction. "I'm sure your comrades at the ISS can handle the situation for a few hours."

"Maybe." Cem set his fork down on the table. "But I still don't think it's a good idea. Assassins don't take days off."

Wyn chuckled. "This is Bolis Island, not Bastion. How many assassins do you really think are hanging around here?"

Cem frowned. "It only takes one."

"Nevertheless," Soontir said, once again brandishing the fork like a king's scepter, "you will be joining us on our half-day of leisure. Or do I have to make that an official order."

"Sir," Cem replied, snapping a crisp salute, "that won't be necessary."

"Very good."

Jag, who had been content to eat in silence and watch the others bicker, now felt all eyes at the table focus on him. "What?"

"You do realize," Cem said, "that this directive is primarily targeted at you."

Jag swallowed his mouthful of fruit, then said, "Yes."

Cem shook his head. "Admit it, Jag, you could use the time off. If you get any more uptight, your spine will snap right out of your back from all that tension."

"Nice mental image," Wyn muttered. "Thank you."

"Any time." Cem held Jag's gaze. "Seriously, little brother. You need a massage or something."

"Not from you." It was so reflexive, the words left his mouth before Jag even had a chance to stop them. Everyone else laughed, and despite himself Jag laughed too.

Their mother gave a sly grin. "No offense, Cem, but I'm fairly confident Jaina is a much preferable alternative."

Cem grinned. "I sure hope so."

Wyn glanced at Jag. "Where is she, anyway?"

It took all of his willpower for Jag to hold his composure. "I… don't know."

"Probably asleep," Wyn said. "That's where I'd be if I were her."

"Oh?" Their father arched a brow. "You would rather be lost in slumber than partaking in this scrumptious feast and scintillating conversation?"

"Yes."

Syal let slip a quiet giggle. "At least you're honest."

"Our daughter's insolent lethargy aside," Soontir said, holding his wife's gaze, "I'm sure Jaina has a good reason for missing out on this charming experience."

"Agreed," Syal said, looking pointedly at Jag.

He tried to smile. "I'll let you know what it was when I find out."

"You'd better," Cem said, thumping down his tumbler of juice as he returned it to the table with a tone that carried an unspoken Or else.

"Now, son," Soontir said, "this is hardly a matter worthy of a rigorous investigation."

Jag swallowed another bite of fruit. Actually, that wouldn't be a bad idea. At least then he'd have some answers, and wouldn't have to worry so much. But aloud he said, "That's right. Besides, you wouldn't want to suffer the consequences of Jaina finding out you secretly investigated her."

Cem chuckled. "Point."

Wyn grinned. "You know that from personal experience, Jag?"

They all laughed, including him. Even though it was silly, and there was no reason for it, he felt a flush rising to his face. Truthfully, he replied, "No."

"Good," his mother said.

Jag had to agree. He didn't need actual experience to know how Jaina would react. He could summarize it in one word: Badly. Even better in two words: Really badly. Experience was unnecessary when imagination was frightening enough by itself. Which was probably exactly the deterrence Jaina was counting on. She could be devious that way.

"Absolutely," he said, and gave his mother a little smile.

They ate for a few more minutes, interspersed with idle thoughts about the various alternatives for relaxation at the resort over the next several hours. When Cem finally cleared his plate – he was the last to finish, as always – Soontir pushed back his chair and sat forward to the edge.

"Well," he said, motioning to the wait staff who had huddled inconspicuously in a corner throughout the meal, "that was delicious, but please take it away before I am tempted to eat any more. Cem, inform ISS of your unavailability until we head for the rehearsal. Wyn, monitor your brother and make sure he does it. Jag, you're in charge of choosing our activity."

Rising from the table, they all nodded. Jag wandered out of the sitting room in the direction of sunroom, bordered on three sides by floor-to-ceiling windows. The sky was clear and bright, and sunlight streamed into the room. How could it not raise his spirits?

Still, as much as he tried to focus on his assigned task, Jag found his thoughts constantly yanked back to Jaina. Absentmindedly, he pinged her comlink, and heard only the dull tone indicating no response. After a few minutes he just gave up and simply stood there, gazing out over the brilliant Maramere seas. It wasn't long before he heard someone come up behind him.

"Get over yourself," Wyn said.

He blinked. Then took a long, slow breath. Then turned around and looked at her. "What?"

Her gaze wasn't harsh, but mischievous. "I said, get over yourself."

Jag scowled. "Very supportive of you. Thanks."

Wyn put a hand on his arm. "You're worried that Jaina's flipped out again."

Momentarily he closed his eyes, and nodded once.

When he opened them again, Wyn squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Well, you're worried for nothing."

"You can't know that."

Patting his arm before she took back her hand, she smiled. "Actually, I can."

"How?"

"Because I'm a woman, and I know these things."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I imagine you realize that's not particularly helpful."

"Jag, her wedding is one of the things a girl looks forward to her whole life." Wyn's face was blissful, almost dreamy. "She dreams about it. Imagines it. Plans every little detail a hundred different ways a hundred times over. Every girl does – even Jaina."

He had to admit, despite all the time she spent flying and fixing things, Jaina wasn't above flights of fancy. "All right. And?"

"And now it's here. Not just any wedding, either. The ultimate fairy tale." For just a moment, Wyn looked profoundly jealous. Then it passed, and she met Jag's eyes again. "So yes, brother, I have absolutely no doubt Jaina is well and truly flipped out right now."

He raised a brow. "But?"

"But…" She balled a fist and gently slugged him in the arm. "But I'm also absolutely certain it has nothing to do with you. At all."

Jag held his breath for just a second, then let it out. "For once, I hope you're right."

Wyn's eyes narrowed, and she hefted the fist again. "Jag…"

"Okay, okay," he said, holding up his palms defensively. "You're right. I know you're right."

In a flash she stepped up to him and pulled him into an embrace. "Good."

He hugged her back. "Thanks."

She pulled back and nodded. Then she turned to walk back to the sitting room. "You're welcome."

He watched her go, then gazed back out over the ocean once more. Get over yourself. It was good advice; he knew that. But it was easier said than done.

He took a deep breath. On reflection, he didn't need to be at Jaina's side every moment until the ceremony. In truth, he didn't even need to see her. Just a quick call, or a short message; that would be enough. Just enough – something, anything – to let him know she loved him, and couldn't wait for tomorrow. Yes, just that would be enough.

Jag sighed. No, Wyn was right. He already knew those things. Despite the fear in his heart, he knew they'd be married tomorrow. Deep down, beneath the fear, he didn't doubt Jaina at all. He was –

The sharp, abrupt warble of the comlink broke his reverie with such startling intrusiveness his grip slipped, sending the device clattering to the floor. He bent to retrieve it, only to watch it seemingly scatter away from his fingers like a small rodent on the run. He dove, lunging with both hands, and captured the traitorous instrument.

He clicked it on. "Jaina?"

"Hey. Yeah."

"Are you –"

"What ti–" She paused, and Jag was pretty sure the silence was a poorly concealed yawn. "What time is it? Did I miss breakfast?"

"You did," he said. "But don't worry about it. Everything's all right."