Breha persisted, as she always did when her mind was finally made up. “We could begin slowly, Bail. In secure conditions. When you lead the supply convoy to where we refurbish our ships in a few weeks—take her with you. We have more defenses there than anywhere else. She can look at what we’ve accomplished and start to understand.”
Leia had already seen the nascent fleet at Paucris Major, but this wasn’t the time to bring that up, if in fact that time existed. She bit her lower lip and tried to look innocent.
Her father wasn’t even paying attention. “I won’t have this. I won’t treat our daughter as a—a skifter in a sabacc deck. If you would, I’m not sure I’ve ever even known you.” Breha closed her eyes, and Bail breathed out sharply, as though he were the one who had been spoken to so hurtfully. Then he stalked out of the library, leaving mother and daughter alone.
By now, Leia felt so wretched she could hardly look at her mother’s pain-stricken face. She whispered, “I’m so sorry I caused trouble.”
“You didn’t. You had a lucky break that may well have saved lives. Eventually your father will see that.” Breha opened her eyes, which were red-rimmed, but her voice remained clear. “Your father isn’t himself right now. It’s a hard thing, allowing your child to go to war.”
Leia nodded, trying to remember the warmth and happiness between them not so long ago in this very room. The memory felt far away. “The rebellion has its own three challenges, I guess.”
“What do you mean?”
Her mother sounded more eager for distraction than interested, but that was reason enough to go on. “Before it becomes what it’s going to be, it has to be strong in mind, body, and heart. The Challenge of the Mind is getting everyone to agree. The Challenge of the Body is what you’re doing on Crait and Ocahont. Making the idea of rising up something real.”
“And the Challenge of the Heart is moving forward without becoming what we have beheld.” Breha sighed. “Well seen, my daughter.”
Mother and daughter sat together on one of the low couches, and Leia hugged her mom tightly, unsure whether she was taking comfort or giving it. When her mother rested her head atop Leia’s, she decided maybe it could be both.
“You have a role to play in the struggle to come, Leia. We’ll figure out what that role should be over the next months and years. Your father will fight us for a while yet, and we have to respect his feelings enough to let him fight.” Breha’s tone betrayed how difficult that would be for her, but her words to her daughter remained calm and steady. “I ask only one thing. From now on, whenever you undertake something like this—even if you fall into it by happenstance—you come to me or to Mon Mothma about it immediately. The very first moment you can tell us, whether in person or via holo, you do so. That way we can make sure what you’re doing is both as safe and as helpful as it can be.”
“You didn’t say to tell Dad.”
“Not yet,” Breha admitted.
Never before had Leia’s mother asked her to keep a secret from her father. She’d always thought that might be fun, but it wasn’t.
What do you do when you’re a sixteen-year-old girl who knows her world is about to end?
Leia felt as though she walked through the next several days in a trance. The palace, as familiar to her as any place ever could be, suddenly seemed too large, too dark, its layout complicated and knotty as the braids 2V insisted on weaving into her charge’s hair every single morning. Her father had left for Coruscant late on the night of that last, terrible family argument; he’d made that trip regularly throughout her entire life, but this time his departure carried an ominous sense of division. Her mother—always so strong, graceful, and poised—wore her wrapper and nightgown in the private areas of the palace until very nearly lunchtime, and once when 2V tried to cluck about it, Breha even snapped at the droid. Of course she apologized in the next breath, but Leia remained shocked all the same.
The trouble hasn’t even started yet, she reminded herself one night at dinner, while she and Breha ate silently on the terrace, looking at Aldera instead of each other. If everything’s so screwed up and strange already, what will it be like when things really get bad?
Her mother’s voice broke into her reverie. “Aren’t you supposed to return to Coruscant soon?”
“The Apprentice Legislature’s next session isn’t for a week yet.”
Frowning, Breha said, “I thought I remembered something about you scheduling a transport several days back.”
“There’s a party tomorrow night,” Leia admitted. “One of the formal balls they invite the Royal Academy grads to every year. The apprentice legislators usually attend too.”
The first smile in days appeared on Breha’s face. “Weren’t you planning on going with Kier Domadi?”
Leia shrugged. “I thought I might ask him if he wouldn’t rather come here instead. I could invite him to the palace, couldn’t I?” She badly wanted to talk with him about some of what she’d learned. Maybe he couldn’t yet know the truth about Paucris Major, but they could discuss the particulars about Winmey Lenz and his double-dealing—and, more importantly, about whatever role people their age ought to play in the coming fight. That conversation was one they should have on their own planet, beneath their shared sky.
“You can always invite your friends to our home,” Breha said. “Which is why you should go to the ball tomorrow night on Coruscant. That will only ever happen once, while your home will always be here.”
“It feels wrong,” Leia finally admitted, as a servitor droid rolled up with the after-dinner caf. “Going out to celebrate, while out there—” She gestured at the darkening sky, through which a few brighter stars had begun to twinkle.
“‘Out there’ is exactly why you should go to the ball.” Leaning across the table, Breha took her daughter’s hand in hers. “We won’t always be free to travel wherever we will. We won’t always be able to take the time to attend elaborate parties. We won’t always have the chance to dance with the ones we love.” The quaver in her voice made Leia’s chest ache as she finished, “So dance now.”
Leia hadn’t realized she could love her mother even more than she already did. She squeezed her mother’s fingers tightly, and for a few long seconds they simply smiled at each other in the most perfect understanding they would ever share.
It was Breha who broke the silence: “And TooVee will be so happy to pick out your gown.”
“Overjoyed.”