Chassellon Stevis appeared to hold no grudges; he wore his hair in braids, a stylish silk suit, and a broad smile as he greeted her. “Good to be back in civilization, don’t you think?”
“I like this better than being stuck halfway up a mountain, if that’s what you mean,” Leia said, smiling back. If Chassellon wasn’t going to sulk, then she wouldn’t hold his attitude during the first challenge against him…but she wouldn’t forget it, either.
Harp Allor looked flushed and happy. “Isn’t this exciting? Senator Lenz says he’ll even introduce me to Grand Moff Tarkin personally, later on.”
“Your senator came?” Leia was caught off guard. Her father hadn’t mentioned the possibility.
“He said he wanted me to get off to a good start.” Harp glanced around, then pointed to Winmey Lenz, senior senator of Chandrila. A lean, dark-skinned man with a nearly trimmed beard, he was familiar to Leia from the receptions that preceded her mother’s dinner parties. He spoke with animation to a military official, one of the few in attendance. Lenz caught Harp’s gesture and waved at her briefly before resuming his conversation. Now that Leia looked around, she realized not all the adults in attendance were staffers; there were a few other senators mingling in the crowd.
My father could’ve been here with me the whole time. He just didn’t think it was important.
Kier interjected, “Senator Organa got our princess off to a good start years ago, I guess.”
He was trying to make her feel better, which meant he’d realized she felt bad. His knowing about her embarrassment just made it worse. “He could’ve come here for you,” she pointed out.
“I’m sure your father knows I’m in good hands,” Kier said.
Interesting turn of phrase, Leia thought, but she’d consider that later.
“We meet again.” Amilyn Holdo wafted along, the same slightly glazed expression on her face. Her hair had been dyed pale blue with orange tips, and she wore a flamboyant caftan in a dizzyingly bright pattern, trimmed with glittery tassels. Rather than stopping to chat, she headed straight for the snacks; at least she knew her priorities.
Leia leaned close to Kier and murmured, “I thought they valued simplicity on Gatalenta. Dressed plainly, except for those scarlet cloaks.”
“I thought so too. Apparently Holdo goes her own way.” Kier said it gently, which was a good reminder that it shouldn’t matter to Leia what this girl wore, or what colors she dyed parts of herself, or that she always spoke in the same airy monotone. A member of an alien species she wasn’t familiar with was currently hovering in midair near the punch bowl, its many striped tentacles gesturing in an elaborate and fluid sign language; if you took a galactic perspective, it was hard to call anything truly “weird.”
Maybe to cover the awkward pause, Harp said, “So, how much do you think we’ll get to do in the Apprentice Legislature? I know we have a few real tasks put before us, but how much do you think the Empire will listen to our recommendations?”
“Probably about as much as they listen to the Imperial Senate,” Kier answered. “In other words, hardly at all.”
“Excuse me?” Leia stepped back. “We work hard in the Senate. My father puts in ten-hour days, sometimes—”
“And so does Senator Lenz!” Harp protested.
Kier held up his hands. “Let’s just say, I have a lot more faith in the viceroy’s leadership on Alderaan than I do any leadership here on Coruscant.”
“Don’t go sounding like a radical,” Chassellon said, absently picking a bit of fluff off his jacket. “It’s so gauche.”
They needed a conversational segue, fast. Leia nodded toward Tarkin, who held court at the center point of the balcony. The setting sun silhouetted his stark profile. Again she thought of hawks, and talons. “I suppose we have to work our way around to our guest speaker. Might as well get that over with.”
“Seems like a bore, if you ask me.” Chassellon shrugged with the indifference only wealth could provide. “I propose we ditch this and find ourselves some real fun. They know me at some clubs on the lower levels.”
Since Chassellon was no older than Leia herself, she doubted this. But she said only, “No, I need to introduce myself to the Grand Moff. My father would expect me to.” Not that he’s likely ever to hear about it one way or the other.
Kier shook his head. “I doubt the Grand Moff cares much about meeting me, and the feeling’s mutual. Besides, I need to get settled into my dormitory room.”
Leia hadn’t thought much about the fact that the other apprentices would be living in a dormitory. She’d stay in her usual room in her father’s apartments. While the Organa family lived fairly simply on Coruscant—at least, for someone of his station—she felt sure her quarters were luxurious compared to the dorms. It was one more thing that set her apart from the others—apart from nearly anyone.
“I want to keep soaking up the atmosphere here,” Amilyn said as she drifted over to them again. That came across as reasonable until she added, “If you don’t let the gases in a new planet’s air sink into your skin organically, it can cause disturbances in your dreams.”
Chassellon rolled his eyes. Leia took that as a signal to head to the receiving line and get it over with.
So many of the apprentice legislators were nervous to meet a grand moff. She observed that feeling without sharing it in the slightest; she had been no more than six the first time she met a king. While the others trembled, stammered, and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot or tentacle to tentacle, Leia stood straight, glad she’d braided her hair in a coil atop her head to provide the illusion of extra height, and waited her turn. When at last she was face to face with Grand Moff Tarkin, she took his hand with assurance. “Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan.”
“Your Highness,” Tarkin said. His hand tightened around hers—only slightly more than would be customary, but enough that she felt he was holding her there. That lasted for only an instant, however, as did his brittle smile. “I look forward to discovering whether you’ll be the same kind of senator as your father.”
“I hope to be,” Leia said. “I’ll be visiting Eriadu for the first time soon, as part of a pathfinding class. They don’t tell us which mountain ranges we might have to find our way through, but I thought you might have an idea.” Diplomacy often meant flattering people. One way of flattering them was referencing their homeworlds; another was asking their opinion on a subject in which they would be well informed. She was proud of folding both into one question.
“The Rivoche Ranges,” Tarkin said without hesitation. His eyes remained fixed on hers with an unnerving directness. “You’ve done your homework.”
“I try to, sir.”
“A good habit to cultivate.” He paused, then added, “Unlike, for instance, looking for loopholes in Imperial regulations.”