Her parents were doing more for the galaxy than anyone else could dream. More, even, than they should?
“I believe in the royal house of Alderaan,” Kier said sincerely. His eyes met hers with his usual uncanny intensity, as if catching the light of the candledroids floating overhead. “We’ve been served well by our monarchy for a hundred generations. That’s more than most planets can say, and a hell of a lot more than the galaxy at large could ever claim.”
That was the second time today she’d heard someone freely criticize Palpatine without looking around to make sure nobody was listening. Kier’s courage struck her even more powerfully than Mon Mothma’s had. Leia lifted her chin. “You don’t believe in the Empire.”
“Who does, besides his brainwashed cannon fodder? Palpatine’s rule is a—a mockery of what government should be. Corruption is everywhere, and they don’t even bother hiding it. His cruelty is known to everybody, but the only ones who admit it are the ones loathsome enough to praise him for it. I know the Republic had its problems, but compared to this, they were nothing.” Kier leaned back in his chair, turning his gaze toward the russet-red horizon. The first stars had become visible in the darkening sky above. “Every day I thank the Force I was born on Alderaan. At least I can be loyal to my planet and its rulers. At least I know our happiness and safety isn’t bought with other people’s misery. We’re free here in a way almost no one else in the Empire will ever be.”
A shadowy idea in Leia’s mind began to take form. Even minutes ago, she’d thought this move would be too daring for tonight—that it was something she could consider later on, weeks or even months in the future. But now…
I trust him. He’s a good person who cares about our planet and believes in my mother’s rule. Maybe he cares about me, too. And Kier would always want to do the right thing.
Maybe he can help me figure out just what the right thing would be.
She took up her own goblet of nectar, mostly to have something to do with her hands. “You know,” she said as casually as she could manage, “the most ancient parts of this palace are more than a thousand years old?”
Kier nodded. “I’ve studied the palace—even wrote a paper on it once. It’s the whole history of Alderaanian architecture in one massive building.” His smile turned shy. “What are my chances of a tour?”
Stay focused, Leia told herself. “The banquet hall is one of the oldest rooms of all. Back then, everything was lit with lamps and candles, and servants were all living beings instead of droids—”
“Only living servants? Sounds…primitive,” he said, straight-faced.
In the same dry tone, Leia replied, “Somehow we endured. Anyway, back then, if you wanted to listen to what was being said—without being seen—you couldn’t plant listening devices. They had other methods.”
Kier sat up straighter, a hint of a smile playing on his face. “Your Highness, are you considering eavesdropping?”
He was eager to play a game. For one instant, she wished that was all she was inviting him to do.
The invitation she had to offer was far more precious, and far more dangerous.
Leia sat up straight and leaned across the table, willing him to understand at least part of how serious this was. “You have to make me a promise. No matter what you hear tonight, it goes no further than this palace. You never mention it to anyone but me, ever. I don’t want to reveal my parents’ secrets. I just want to—to share them.” So someone else will know what I know. So I don’t have to carry this information alone. “You have to promise me on whatever it is you hold most sacred.”
Kier’s entire demeanor changed. Maybe he couldn’t guess what he was about to discover, but he knew this was far more than a game. Slowly he nodded. “I promise you on Alderaan itself.”
“All right then.” A shiver swept through Leia, and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or anticipation. “Follow me.”
Several hundred years before, Alderaan’s people had favored a style of architecture featuring ornately carved screens of pale stone. Sometimes these screens would be inlaid with precious gems by the rich and powerful, while the common citizen enjoyed intricate patterns carved straight through the rock. Truly fine artisans would cut spots in the stone so thin that light could shine through it, though the surface remained unbroken.
For the most part, it was this last, most finely wrought stone that lined the banquet hall of the palace. The royal family back then had conducted espionage the old-fashioned way, by eavesdropping. Their artisans had skillfully crafted the walls so that natural indentations or shadows in the stone hid tiny openings, each of which was angled to amplify sound from the room into the small passageways between these carved screens and the inner walls.
Very small passageways.
“Were humans smaller back then?” Kier whispered as they crawled along the floor. Shadows and dim light played in patterns along their bodies as they went.
“Probably.” The passage wasn’t as uncomfortable for Leia, but even she found it a squeeze. Then again, maybe the royals of old wanted espionage to be difficult.
They reached one of the tiny chambers large enough for someone to sit down. It was barely big enough to fit both her and Kier, and they could only manage by sitting side by side, shoulders and legs touching, their faces very close.
Leia didn’t mind.
“The soup is delicious,” said Cinderon Malpe. “Really, Breha, your chefs have outdone themselves.”
“Why, thank you.” Leia’s mother spoke in her most queenly voice. “I shall be sure to share your compliments.”
Kier raised an eyebrow. “Scandalous.”
“Just wait, all right?” Doubt nagged at Leia for an instant. What if she was wrong about the purpose of these dinner parties? What if it was really all rich food and conversation?
No. I’m right about this. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t already done talking about their plans for the night.
“Do you hide down here all the time?” Kier murmured. The light filtering unevenly through the thin-carved stone painted half his face in shadow. “Storing up secrets?”
“I used to sneak around in here when I was little. Not so much anymore.” The last time she’d ventured behind these screens had been about seven years prior, when her parents were dining alone a week before her Name Day. Leia had been young and self-centered enough to assume they’d probably talk about her presents. Instead, she’d heard them laughing softly and flirting…and she’d wound up scurrying out, red-faced, just in time to avoid a very unwelcome lesson about exactly what spouses did together in their private hours. That had been enough to keep her from ever venturing back here until this night.
“Was it lonely, growing up in the palace?”