In the far distance stood Appenza Peak. Although it wasn’t the tallest mountain on Alderaan, it was perhaps the most iconic—a slim, needlelike sliver pointing far above the modest hills at its base. The flag of this region bore its silhouette; fairy tales often began with a spirit flying away from its home on Appenza Peak to choose an adventurer. Religious pilgrims claimed that at its height, one could commune with the Force, and the relatively easy climb meant that hundreds of people made the trek each year.
But relatively easy wasn’t the same as easy. Even the fairy tales warned against trying Appenza Peak on a whim. Making the journey up the mountain required training, equipment, and will.
Equipment, check, Leia thought, feeling the backpack’s reassuring heft against her shoulder. Will, check. Training—coming right up.
After Wobani, she craved a physical, material challenge. Exact parameters. On the mountain, success and failure would be as solid as the rock beneath her feet. The pathfinding class would prepare her for that.
The jumper landed at the designated coordinates only long enough for Leia to hop out. She waved over her shoulder at the guards as it took off again, sending swirls of snowflakes into the air, then turned to join the pathfinding students who had already gathered in the clearing next to the high, gabled chalet that served as their headquarters for the day.
“Wait—aren’t you the princess?” said a slim, dark-skinned boy with aquiline features and an aristocratic accent. “How did you wind up flying here on that old barge?”
None of the royal family stood on ceremony except when diplomatic protocol demanded it. But proudly proclaiming you weren’t too good to ride on a jumper was just the same as hinting that, really, you were too good for it and wanted a reward for pretending otherwise. She simply said, “They were headed this way. And yes, I’m Leia Organa.”
“Chassellon Stevis of Coruscant.” He gave her an overly elaborate bow, twirling his outstretched hand at the wrist to make her laugh. It worked. “My mother heads our diplomatic legation, as you probably know—and now you and I follow our parents into the family business.”
When Breha Organa had arranged this class, she’d reached out to some of the other new members of the Apprentice Legislature to participate as well. The rationale had been for Leia to get to know a few people outside of Coruscant’s sparkling but artificial social whirl. It felt more like her mother was hurriedly trying to find some friends for her daughter. That way, she doesn’t have to feel guilty about ignoring me—if she even feels guilty at all—
“I’m looking forward to it,” Leia said easily—or what she hoped was easily. Her parents’ diplomatic polish still eluded her sometimes, and she envied the queen and viceroy their perfect, all-concealing masks. However, she knew the exact moment to stop favoring the aristocrat who’d greeted her and turn toward the others. Holding her hand out to a dark-haired girl, she began, “And you are—?”
She went from student to student, memorizing names and faces the way she’d been taught since childhood. Harp Allor of Chandrila, friendly and overprepared—Sssamm Ashsssen of Fillithar, an unusual student in a sport usually engaged in by bipeds—an Ithorian whose name she hadn’t caught, would have to ask about that later—
But then she got to someone who stopped her cold.
This student was human, a tall, gangly girl with a narrow face and long nose. Her hair was acid green, which meant that either she was from Iloh or she really liked standing out. While the others mostly wore white gear with silver or orange reflective stripes, this girl wore a rainbow of bright colors that clashed so painfully Leia had to fight the urge to squint. Her goggles were already strapped on, and they were of antique make, with pink lenses that curved out from the frames to an almost ridiculous degree. Although she’d obviously noticed Leia, she didn’t introduce herself. She just stood there, staring and smiling.
“Hi,” Leia began. “I’m Leia Organa.”
“Of Alderaan,” the girl said in a curiously even tone, like someone groggy after a bacta treatment. Her thinness and gawkiness reminded Leia of a marsh crane.
“Um, yeah. And you are—”
“Amilyn Holdo of Gatalenta.” The reply came in the exact same drawn-out monotone. “Thank your mom for inviting me to the class.”
All right, good. She can make normal conversation. Maybe she just needs to…warm up first. “Are you looking forward to trying pathfinding?”
“Definitely.” Amilyn’s loopy grin widened. “I hope it’s dangerous! I want to get more comfortable with the nearness and inevitability of death.”
“…okay.” Leia froze her smile on her face by force of will while thinking, There’s no way she’s handling my climbing ropes.
(Her father sometimes said she made up her mind too quickly about people. Her mother told her to trust her instincts. Today, she’d follow her mother’s advice.)
The final six students had all flown up with the instructor and were now tromping in from the nearby landing pad. Since Leia had already looked over the Apprentice Legislature directory, she recognized a few of them. One in particular stood out to her, a boy who wore what looked like cast-off military gear. He stood a head taller than her, which wasn’t the same as being tall. Some observers would’ve called him odd-looking, with his deep-set eyes and sharply angular features, but others would’ve called him handsome. Leia wasn’t sure which group she’d agree with. He was probably the one it was most important for her to know, so she trudged a few steps through the drift between them to hold out her hand. “You’re Kier Domadi, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Kier spoke with the deference she nearly always heard from citizens of Alderaan. His voice carried a surprising resonance for someone so young and wiry.
“I’m glad we’ll be serving in the Apprentice Legislature together. Sharing the same pod, going over the same material—we’ll have to cooperate almost every day.” She felt her smile brightening, too much, really, for the occasion.
His expression was hard to read, but his focus on her had intensified. He wasn’t greeting his princess any longer; he was evaluating her, the same way she was measuring him. “I look forward to it.”
“Luckily it looks like we’ll get along.” Did I just say that out loud? Am I flirting? Diplomats aren’t supposed to flirt. But she’d figured out that she was in the “handsome” camp.
“Luck didn’t have anything to do with my being here.” Kier straightened, and the intensity of his gaze became more uncomfortable. “I guess it didn’t have anything to do with you being here either.”
It felt like being slapped. Did he think she hadn’t earned her own spot in the Apprentice Legislature? She’d interned for two years with her father, was as familiar with the Senate’s workings as some senators (and more than others), and had passed every mandatory test with top marks. I work as hard as anyone! Leia wanted to protest. Harder than most.
Then she remembered Wobani, how proud she’d been of herself and her royal authority, so sure she knew what to do and how to do it. Instead she’d made a mistake that affected thousands of lives, maybe permanently. Never before had Leia doubted the wisdom of their hereditary monarchy, but now she thought, I inherited power before I earned it. I misused that power, and people got hurt.