17 – Wind
Jag spoke.
His voice was calm but there was an underlying nuance in his voice that seemed strained. As if he didn't like what he was about to say. As if he didn't like something, but Jaina had no idea what it was. The light of Borleias' sun was stifling, the shadow of the forests preferable during midday. And yet she sat on the base's roof and stared into the sky.
Trickster Queen.
The wind picked up. It roared in the tree tops so loudly she couldn't hear Jag's voice, and Anakin still was dead no matter what she did.