“I’ll watch my targets, hotshot. You watch yours.” A glittering at the edge of Leia’s peripheral vision made her spin sideways, her fingers tightening on the trigger the very moment she’d taken aim. The holographic target “shattered” into dizzying swirls of light before vanishing. She gave Kier a glance over her shoulder, as if she were being smug.
He obviously understood what she really felt, because he breathed in sharply, his targets forgotten. When she smiled, he leaned closer to her, the way he had back on Felucia…
…which gave her the chance to reach past him and blast one of his targets to bits.
“Stang,” he muttered, which made her laugh. “You’re distracting me on purpose, aren’t you?”
“A girl’s gotta win somehow.”
“You usually win by just outshooting me.”
Leia shrugged. “If I don’t change it up, how can I keep you on your toes?”
Abandoning all pretense of paying attention to the game, Kier slung one arm around her and pulled her close for a quick, tantalizing kiss. Too quick, in Leia’s opinion. She drew him back to her, and for a few long minutes the shimmering holographic targets spun and swirled around them in the darkness, safe from harm.
So this was what it felt like to live only in the moment—to forget responsibilities and rules—to find a secret part of yourself within another person, where somehow it had been hidden all along. The ominous future no longer loomed constantly over her; it had been banished to the distant place where it belonged. (It was only a possibility, not even a real thing yet, a prediction that might not come to pass.) She could hardly sleep for thinking about Kier at night, but woke up smiling every morning. After months of loneliness, she was again cherished. Even that wasn’t as sweet as the feeling of cherishing someone back—caring about someone else so much that it felt as if she had two lives to lead, two perspectives on the galaxy, instead of just one. How had she ever managed with just one?
The end chime sounded, startling them from their embrace. Leia laughed when she saw their abysmal scores projected into the arena, and Kier groaned. “Okay,” he said, “next time we have to concentrate, or else our skill levels are going to reset back to beginner.”
“Think about it.” Leia ran her hand along his wiry black hair, idly wishing he’d grow it long enough for her to weave her fingers through. “If our levels reset to beginner, we’ll have to work our way back up again. That means hours and hours of practicing together, all alone in here, just you and me.”
Exaggerating his thoughtful expression, he nodded. “You know, we could use lots more practice like today.”
“So much more.”
“Infinite amounts.”
Before Leia could respond again, a red light shone down from the ceiling of the arena—a familiar signal in the senatorial complex, one that indicated a special announcement. Lettering appeared on the highest screen as a droid voice intoned, “There will be a formal address in the main chamber at sixteen hundred hours. All senators currently on Coruscant are required to attend.”
Such mandatory addresses were rare, and they never meant anything good. A queasy uncertainty punctured Leia’s giddiness; one look at Kier’s face made it clear he felt the same way. He said only, “I don’t think the requirement applies to apprentice legislators—but I think we ought to attend.”
“No, it doesn’t apply to us, and yes, we absolutely have to go.”
Instantly Leia hurried toward the changing rooms. At least being so distracted with each other meant that she and Kier hadn’t worked up a sweat in the arena. If they only changed, with no need to shower, they could make the session easily. She hadn’t realized she could snap back into official mode with such speed. Probably that was a good thing.
However, there was a moment when Kier came out of his changing room still tying his wraparound jacket shut, revealing a glimpse of his bare chest—
“Let’s go,” she said to him, adding inside her head, Snap out of it.
Leia had been allowed to sit in her father’s senatorial pod a few times as a little girl, and she’d accompanied him to most of his sessions while she’d been working as his intern. To her it felt very familiar, or it should have.
Yet as she took her place in the pod that afternoon, she became sharply aware that the mood in the Imperial Senate had shifted in the past few months. Normally senators spoke to each other via comms almost constantly in the minutes before an address began, mostly bureaucratic chitchat, the verbal equivalent of the majority of the work they did. While the Imperial Senate was too heavily yoked by Palpatine’s rule, they maintained a sense of busyness and endeavor—an eagerness to accomplish whatever they could.
Today the chamber was very nearly silent. Senators filed in, took their seats, and said almost nothing, not even to the staffers sitting with them in their pods. Most of the sounds Leia heard were the thumps of footsteps and the rustles of robes, along with a few odd coughs and chirps. The stillness unnerved her.
Come to think of it, the Senate sessions had been quieting for a while. The boisterous beginnings she remembered as a tiny child had become more subdued later on, the stillness falling so gradually that Leia had missed it until now. Had the senators forgotten that they still held some authority? That they were one of the few forces standing between Palpatine and absolute power? They couldn’t afford to become passive in the face of resistance; that was when they needed to bear down and work harder….
Then she remembered Arreyel, and sagged in her seat.
“Are you all right?” Kier murmured next to her. Despite his concern, he didn’t seem to recognize the depth of her disquiet—but of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t know her reasons.
Instead of answering his question, she said, “This is your first time in the Senate chamber, isn’t it?”
“Except for one introductory tour.” His grin pierced her through. He was excited about this, thrilled to see it, because he had no better days to compare it to. He still believes. I have to believe too. We can accomplish something in this chamber, even if it’s harder than it used to be.
The entry to the pod slid open, and Bail Organa walked through. His expression seemed as distant as usual, until he saw Leia and Kier sitting side by side, closer than she’d realized they were until now. He raised one eyebrow in what ought to have been a gentle joke. Instead it sparked Leia’s temper. How could he shut her out for so long and yell at her when she was only trying to help, then act like nothing was wrong?
At least she was grown-up enough not to say any of that out loud. She simply half-turned her head, refusing to meet her father’s eyes.
Kier, however, was already getting to his feet. “Good afternoon, Viceroy. I hope it’s not inappropriate for us to attend.”
“Of course not, Mr. Domadi. It’s good you’re both here.” Bail took his seat, drawing his long coat closer around him. The Senate chamber was kept relatively cool—a concession to the many senators whose planets’ elaborate court dress could be suffocating. But Leia knew her father well enough to recognize that gesture and know it had nothing to do with cold. It was a sign he was worried.