Her parents had arranged their duties so her mother tended to matters on Alderaan itself while her father represented Alderaan in the Imperial Senate and handled their diplomatic efforts. In the Clone Wars, he’d been their military leader as well, and as a little girl Leia had thrilled to his stories of adventure—and as she matured, she heard some of the darker, sadder stories that formed the largest part of any great war.
But there had been no major wars in a generation. The galaxy was unified in the worst possible way, under the tyranny of Emperor Palpatine. As a representative of one of the most influential Core Worlds, Bail Organa served as one of the few voices in the Imperial Senate that could moderate Palpatine’s autocratic rule. Politics involved its own kind of battles, and Leia discovered early on that she liked a good fight. Interning in her father’s Senate offices the past two years had meant proofreading his speeches, practice-debating with him on various issues, and unwinding after sessions as they traveled home on the royal yacht or the Tantive IV. She’d felt she wasn’t only a daughter to Bail Organa but also a partner in his work, and that had made her prouder than her crown ever could.
She’d done her part. She’d been a good daughter. So why had they stopped caring about being parents?
It wasn’t like they hit her or were mean to her. It was worse than that.
They ignored her.
Her father began having more and more private sessions in his offices, discussions with senators from Uyter or Mon Cala that Leia couldn’t take part in. There had always been conferences like that, but they went from a few each month to sometimes several a day. Afterward Bail would be distracted for hours. If Leia tried to sound him out about them, he’d sternly tell her to attend to her own duties. It was as though power-brokering had become more important to him than anything else, including his own daughter.
Her mother was even worse. She’d suddenly turned into a society hostess, inviting dignitaries from around the galaxy to sumptuous banquets where the revelry lasted until nearly dawn. Sometimes Leia would even catch Breha dozing over the account books the next day. Her responsibility to her people didn’t matter anymore, not compared to throwing a fabulous party.
Leia felt her corner of their world shrinking tighter and tighter until she could hardly breathe in their presence. Nothing she said or did seemed to affect them in the slightest. Although she was too old to call out for her parents when she had a bad dream, every once in a while she wanted to do it anyway.
But she never called for them. She never wanted to find out for sure that they wouldn’t come.
“Come away from that window,” 2V scolded as she rolled to Leia’s bed and spread the silk coverlet over it. “You could be struck by lightning.”
Leia didn’t budge from her seat. The open windows let the stormy breeze blow through, stirring her long hair as it hung loose down her back. Her billowy white nightgown covered the knees she hugged to her chest as she watched the horizon flicker bright with another thunderbolt.
2V rolled toward her, jointed arms on the stiff apron that passed for her hips. “Your Highness, please! It’s not safe.”
“I’m not going to be struck by lightning,” Leia said. “Besides, I like the storm.”
2V rolled ominously close. “My programming allows me to forcibly remove you from any major physical risk.”
“All right, all right. I’m going. See?” Hopping down from the window seat, Leia went to her bed. It was one of the artifacts of a grander age, carved of priceless Glee Anselm hardwoods and inlaid with thin, curling lines of pure gold and silver. Royalty no longer wasted money on splendor like this, but Breha always said it was silly not to use a perfectly good bed, or tiara, or palace.
“The protocol droids inform me you were splendid today.” 2V tidied up the vanity table, putting each brush and comb back in place. “I’m sure your appearance was much admired.”
Leia had to smile. “Everyone saw what good work you did, TooVee. You should be proud.”
Gleaming with satisfaction, 2V did a little half bow, then rolled out of the room. As soon as the door was shut, Leia threw back the coverlet and returned to her window. Another lightning bolt struck the ground, half-hidden by Appenza Peak; for one second, the mountain was sharply outlined against the brilliant light.
It was so beautiful, she imagined saying to her parents over breakfast—though of course they never breakfasted with her any longer. They were already busy planning their next party before the sun even rose.
Leia threw open the window again and let the wind flow through the room. Her cheeks and arms felt the coolness of a few small raindrops. The ceremony hadn’t lived up to her childhood dreams, but a storm like this could never disappoint her. She liked the wildness of it, the unpredictability, even the distant danger. This was something she’d only discovered about herself recently, her love of storms, and she treasured it because it was one of the few things she hadn’t shared with her parents. This belonged to her alone.
Still, she wanted to tell them someday, once things had finally gone back to the way they used to be.
Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow I’ll take up my first challenge. I’ll prove myself.
I’ll do something too great for them to ignore.
Three weeks remained before the next session of the Apprentice Legislature would begin. Leia ought to have been preparing—reviewing top issues, drafting potential bills to introduce. That was what her father always did before returning to the Imperial Senate; she’d helped him for two years now, more than long enough to know how to handle the work on her own. So she should’ve been holed up in the study, surrounded by political materials.
Instead, she was dashing through the principal Aldera spaceport, 2V whirring along at her side.
“You need to show respect for the Imperial officials there,” 2V insisted as they swerved around a Gozanti freighter where worker droids levitated crates of cargo into the hold. “You’re traveling as a diplomat on a humanitarian mission and must present yourself accordingly. A princess must always dress for the occasion.”
“I will, I will,” Leia sighed. It had been years since she’d protested wearing dresses or putting her hair up, but 2V remained convinced that as soon as she let her charge out of her sight, Leia would immediately change back into her childhood play coveralls and a ponytail. “This occasion is providing rations to starving refugees on Wobani. So I don’t need to braid my hair with pearls.”
2V pulled back her upper torso in a move Leia could only describe as prim. “There’s no need to be ridiculous. Pearls are so passé.”