Which meant the info portal in that room was cleared for access to the royal accounts.
Leia placed her palm over the silver circle of the sentry, then smiled when the portal lit up. Every member of the royal family could delve into the accounts, though she’d never done so except during her ill-fated attempt to learn bookkeeping. While her parents might have sealed off strategic information about their efforts, she was wagering that they wouldn’t have thought to hide the funds.
The wager paid off. Her brief acquaintance with the royal accounting told her which expenses were normal, and which were more unusual. Immense amounts of credits were coming in and out under the suspiciously generic-yet-unfamiliar label Spaceport Development. Leia knew full well Alderaan wasn’t currently building or even planning a major new spaceport. That meant she also knew where to start digging.
She hadn’t been examining the funds under that label very long before she first ran into Itapi Prime. Chandrila. Ocahont. Paucris Major. Crait. Unzel. Mon Cala.
What she already knew about the senators and places involved told her that probably all of these worlds were in some way connected to her parents’ efforts against the Empire. Paucris Major in particular seemed especially active in the past few months; the amount of credits directed there was staggering—far beyond the capacity of even the royal purse of Alderaan. Furthermore, like Crait, Paucris Major sent no money in, only received it.
They must be building a base there, she thought, just like Crait. But that explanation didn’t satisfy her. Paucris Major had received more than fifty times the credits given to Crait; whatever was going on there operated on an entirely different scale.
Leia had no intentions of dropping into yet another military outpost with a blaster on her hip. Her father’s words about shooting down possible intruders had stayed with her.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t take a look. Evaluate.
Once she’d memorized the information that seemed most pertinent, she eased out of the private stateroom and headed down the hallway. As she walked past the library, though, she heard her father’s voice: “Leia?”
Her first thought: busted. She caught herself, though. The act of walking around her own home wasn’t inherently sneaky. Guilt just made it feel that way.
She went through the library door to find her father sitting in one of the large leather chairs by the far windows. Outside the dark blue night was spangled with stars in the sky and candlewick blooms on the ground. He wore a deep green robe—once almost as impressive as his viceroy’s coat, now worn almost shabby. One of the old paper books lay across his lap.
“What are you doing with that?” she said as she came close.
Bail gestured idly at the book. “Looking for wisdom in the past. Though of course they had no more then than we do now.” His warm brown eyes regarded her more tenderly than they had in a long time. “I’m sorry I’ve been so short with you of late.”
Leia’s first impulse was to say “It’s okay,” but she resisted. Better to tell the truth. “It feels like I can’t do anything right where you’re concerned.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve done almost everything right your entire life! We’ve always been so proud of you, so fortunate in you. Sometimes I still can’t believe that of all the children in the galaxy, fate brought you to us.”
They’d always said such things to her, but it had been a while since Leia had last heard those words, and they affected her more than before. A lump in her throat, she said, “I got pretty lucky too.”
Bail held out one hand. She took it, sinking down onto the padded bench at his feet. As he squeezed her fingers, he said, “What your mother and I are trying to accomplish…it’s the most ambitious, dangerous, terrifying thing we’ve ever done. We’re risking everything, even you. The weight of that knowledge bears down on me every day. If I’ve taken my frustrations out on you, I apologize.”
Her voice wavered as she replied, “I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”
“I hope you never have to know.”
As long as they were being honest, Leia figured she might as well acknowledge the hardest truth of all: “You know keeping me in the dark won’t save me, if the Empire discovers what you’re doing.”
Her father closed his eyes, as if in pain. “Maybe not. But if there’s any chance, any at all, we have to give you that.”
“I still think I could help.”
“You can, in the Senate.” She rolled her eyes, but Bail leaned closer to her and continued, “Making allies, forming allegiances that exist independent of Palpatine’s control—that’s the most important work in the Imperial Senate, these days. If I hadn’t worked together with Mon Mothma for so long in the Senate, do you think we could be allies in this?”
Leia had never considered this angle before. “So it’s not just about the official work. It’s about the unofficial connections.”
“Precisely. Nowhere else can so many planetary leaders come together without danger or secrecy. The Imperial Senate is only a shadow of what it was in the days of the Republic, but someday, I hope, it will be remembered as the cradle of an alliance that brought freedom back to the galaxy.” He smiled gently at his daughter. “Learn to play your part in the politics behind the politics, Leia. There truly is valuable work to be done.”
“I never thought of it that way before.” Brightening, she added, “And the people in the Apprentice Legislature are the ones who might be senators in their own right in a few years.”
“Exactly. These are the people who will be important in your future.” Her father’s dark eyes took on the mischievous twinkle she knew so well. “Like, say, this Kier Domadi—”
“Stop.” Leia mock-shoved her father away, which made him laugh. She’d missed the sound of his laughter more than she’d known.
“You can’t stop us from asking questions forever, you know.” Bail’s curiosity appeared very real, but she knew him well enough to understand he wouldn’t pry if she didn’t want, and she didn’t. What she had with Kier was too new, too fragile to fully reveal yet. It would be like prying open the petals of a candlewick blossom in the daytime, only to have the sunbeams scorch the bud within and permanently extinguish the light.
“I’ll tell you about it when there’s more to tell,” she finally said. “Okay?”
Her father nodded once, sharply, like a man making a deal he was happy with. “Okay.”
When she left the library that night, she felt aglow with happiness and relief. Being at odds with her father had haunted her; at least now they were friends again, and she understood him better. More than that, she saw a way for her work in the Apprentice Legislature to be truly useful.
But that didn’t mean she’d forgotten about Paucris Major.