They ran out of the gathering together, second glasses of glowwine in their hands, into the dazzling lights of Coruscant at night. At first they dashed across the suspended walkways, happy to dodge the passers-by around them, to feel as if they were racing on thin air. Even the holoprojections of the Imperial symbol on huge screens all around couldn’t dull Leia’s giddiness.
When they found a hoversled rental place, Kier steered them directly to it. Once he’d given the Rodian proprietor some credits, and taken the scan that proved they’d imbibed nothing stronger than glowwine, they were off—zooming through the air, wind rushing around them. Leia kept their course simple, partly to be safe but also because it let her attention wander to the warmth of Kier’s arms wrapped around her as he embraced her from behind.
“Hey,” he called, pointing toward the senatorial complex. “Let’s head up there.”
Atop the complex, an elaborate garden had been planted for the enjoyment of senior members of the government; on Coruscant, the rich greenness of leaves was the ultimate luxury. On most nights, a number of people could be found there relaxing with family and friends. Tonight, however, the Senate was in late session and the other apprentice legislators remained at the ball, so Leia was able to land in the very center, and they had the garden to themselves.
Kier took her hand as he drew her away from the hoversled to walk on the soft ground. The belomi-palm fronds swayed in the breezes, surrounding them so fully it was almost possible to believe they were on a planet’s surface instead of high above it.
“No place is as beautiful as Alderaan,” Kier said, “but this comes close.”
She thought of his fierce wish to protect Alderaan against the coming conflict, the danger again intruding on her happiness.
“Hey.” He brought his fingers up beneath her chin, tilting her face toward his. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I am, really.”
Kier knew her better than that. “Are you worried about your mother?”
He’d been so concerned about the so-called family emergency that took her away from the challenge on Pamarthe. She’d been forced to concoct a lie, which she hated—but this lie was intended to protect both Kier and her parents, so she stuck to it. “Everything’s okay. Her pulmonodes really only needed a small repair. It scared us, that’s all.”
The light filtering through the palms highlighted the sharp angles of his face, the depth of his dark eyes. “Then what is it? Are you nervous about your challenges, after what happened on Pamarthe?” His smile warmed her through. “You’ll make that ascent of Appenza. I’d be honored to climb it with you, if you’d like.”
The would-be heir could take a companion on the climb, and she could imagine nothing better than standing atop that mountain, declaring herself the next queen, with Kier by her side. “Yes. I’d like that.”
“But it’s not what you’re worried about.”
Surely he deserved some small measure of the truth. How much could she parcel out and declare safe? Leia finally said, “Recently I traveled somewhere that made me—made me realize that what my parents are planning—that it’s inevitable.”
His expression clouded. “Are they about to do something dangerous?”
“No, no, not yet.” She shook her head vehemently. All of this was dangerous, but Kier was asking whether action was imminent. That, at least, Leia felt sure she could deny. “I don’t know how long it’s going to be, though. I just know it’s going to happen. Everything about our lives is about to change.”
He embraced her tightly. She rested her head against his chest, at the exact place where she could best hear his heartbeat. They were so breakable, so mortal. The fight to come would overtake them, and there was nothing she could do to protect either of them.
“I know it has to change,” Kier whispered. “The Empire can’t stand. People can’t live like this, and that means an uprising is inevitable. We have to prepare for it; we need it. But what’s about to happen—”
“Don’t.” She placed two of her fingers over his lips. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I want to forget about it completely, just for tonight.”
Leia sank down onto the soft ground, relishing the coolness of grass beneath her palms. After a moment, Kier knelt beside her. When he hesitated still longer, she started to ask him what he was thinking—but then he reached out, fingers trembling, and removed one long pin from her hair. He held it between them, a silent question as to whether he should continue.
Alderaan had any number of traditions about braids, about who wore them, and when, and why. The customs varied from continent to continent, age to age. But always, one of the most profoundly intimate acts was to allow someone else to take the braids down.
After one deep, shaky breath, Leia turned, offering him the back of her head.
Kier went slowly at first, figuring out how to proceed, but he gained confidence as he went. Each pin was carefully placed in a pile off to the side so that they could keep only the slightest sliver of space between them. Every time their eyes met, the troubling world around them fell further away.
2V knew her work. Leia’s hair didn’t begin to tumble free until the very last braids were loosed. When at last it fell heavy and dark around her shoulders, Kier buried his hands in it, and she didn’t have to think or worry anymore, just close her eyes, kiss him, and let go.
Apprentice legislators rarely contented themselves with the experience itself. Kier’s academic interest was the exception; most apprentices hoped for political or Imperial careers, and their time with the Senate served as a mere starting point. Therefore, attracting the attention of a senior official usually meant good news.
A princess of Alderaan didn’t need that kind of attention—and even if she had, Leia would’ve been horrified to receive the summons to meet with Grand Moff Tarkin.
“What can he want?” Kier shook his head in consternation when she showed him the screen. They sat together in her family’s apartments, watching one of the famously melodramatic holovids from Shili. “It’s not like we’ve seen him anywhere near the Apprentice Legislature since day one.”
“He’s been to Alderaan, though.” Leia remembered that terrible dinner party, the suspense that had hung over them all like a canopy of black. “Recently. I think he was trying to rattle my parents.”
“You think he suspects something?” Kier sat upright, almost as if he would leap to his feet in alarm. She remembered the sharpness of that initial fear. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It would only move you into the bull’s-eye along with us.” She curled into a ball on the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest. Their family apartments hadn’t felt as empty since she began spending more time here with Kier, but Tarkin’s message had made her father’s absence freshly vivid. “I wish I could ask my dad about how to handle this.”
“Could you call him?”
Not where he’s gone. Leia pulled herself together. “Not in time. The summons says this morning.”
When she rose from the sofa, smoothing the simple tunic she wore, Kier got to his feet beside her. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Tarkin’s not going to allow that.”