• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“You can’t face Sirak in the ring, but I can,” he said.

“What?” Githany’s surprise was completely genuine. “He nearly beat you to death last time! He’ll kill you for sure this time!”

“This time I intend to win.”

The way he spoke made Githany realize she was missing something. “What’s going on, Bane?” she demanded.

He hesitated a moment before admitting, “I’ve been training with Lord Kas’im in secret.”

That made sense, she saw. In fact, she should have figured it out on her own. Maybe you would have if, if you hadn’t let Bane get to you, she chided herself. You knew you were starting to have feelings for him; you let them cloud your judgment.

Out loud she said, “I don’t like being played for a fool, Bane.”

“Neither do I,” he said. “I’m not stupid, Githany. I know what you wanted from me. I know what you expected me to say. I will get my revenge on Sirak. But I’m taking my own path.”

Without even realizing it she had begun chewing on her lower lip. “When?”

“Tomorrow morning. Just as you said you were going to.”

“But you know I wasn’t serious.”

“And you know I am.”

Unbidden, Githany’s finger began to twine itself in a lock of her hair. She pulled her arm down sharply as soon as she realized what she was doing.

Bane reached out a hand and let it rest gently on her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry,” he reassured her. “Nobody will know you were involved.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she whispered.

He tilted his head to one side, studying her closely to see if she was being honest with him. Much to her own surprise, she actually was.

Bane must have sensed her sincerity, because he leaned in close and kissed her softly on the lips. He drew back slowly, letting his hand slip from her shoulder. Without another word, he rose to his feet and made his way toward the door leading out of the archives.

She watched him go in silence, then at the last second called out, “Good luck, Bane. Be careful.”

He stopped as if he’d taken a blaster bolt in the throat, his body rigid. “I will,” he replied without looking back. And then he was gone.

Moments later Githany felt her face burning. She absently brushed away a tear coiling down her cheek, then brought her hand up slowly, staring in disbelief at the moisture smeared across her palm.

Disgusted at her own weakness, she wiped the tear away on the folds of her cloak. She stood up from the chair and threw her shoulders back, bracing her spine and holding her head high and proud.

So what if things hadn’t quite gone according to plan? If Bane killed Sirak in the ring, her rival would still be dead. And if Bane failed, she could always find someone else to assassinate the Zabrak. It would all work out the same in the end.

But as she marched smartly from the room, part of her knew that wasn’t true. No matter how this played out, things were going to be very different from anything she had imagined.

The morning sky was dark with storm clouds. Far in the distance thunder could be heard rumbling across the empty plains that separated the temple from the Valley of the Dark Lords.

Bane hadn’t slept that night. After his confrontation with Githany, he had returned to his room to meditate. Even that had proved difficult; his mind was churning with too many thoughts to properly focus.

Memories of the gruesome beating he had suffered kept forcing themselves to the fore, dragging doubt and the fear of failure behind them. So far he’d managed to resist the whispers that threatened his resolve, and he’d stayed firm in his original plan.

The apprentices were gathering, some casting sour glances at the clouds overhead. The temple roof was completely exposed to the elements, but no matter how wet, cold, and miserable the students got, they knew the drills and challenges would not be canceled. A little rain was nothing to a Sith, Kas’im was fond of saying.

Bane found his place amid the throng in preparation for the group drills. The apprentices around him studiously ignored his presence. It had been this way