Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [69]
She nodded to the apprentice leading Tikk. The youth paused, drew Tikk’s head down, activated his lightsaber, and lifted it high.
Tikk!
Vestara bit down on her tongue so hard she tasted blood. She kept her arms locked at her sides, swallowing the cry that ached to be uttered. Her eyes were enormous, and she did not tear them away from the scene before her.
“Very good,” Lady Rhea said in a voice that was almost a purr. Another barely perceptible nod of her white-gold head and the apprentice deactivated his weapon. Tugging gently on the reins, he led Tikk down a ramp. The uvak, blissfully unaware of just how close he had come to decapitation by lightsaber, followed compliantly.
“Had you protested, your uvak would be dead now.” Lady Rhea’s hand dropped to Vestara’s shoulder. “Go ahead and be fond of him, my dear. And of your pets, and family, and lovers you may take one day. Enjoy to the fullest all the trappings that power gives you, for you will have earned them. Want everything you wish—hunger, burn for it, if that fuels you. But never love anyone or anything so much that you cannot bear to lose it.”
For just a moment, Vestara was angry at the display and the brutal casualness of it all. And then she realized that Lady Rhea was right. Completely right. With that realization, the anger bled out of her and she inhaled a hitching breath. Lady Rhea was watching her closely.
“My lady is correct, of course. I apologize for my reaction.”
“Your reaction was better than most, my dear. I expected nothing less. Come.”
THE DORMITORY HALL WAS CAVERNOUS AND COLD. NO ATTEMPT HAD been made to beautify or soften the black stone from which the room had been hewn. The floors were smooth and even, but the walls were still rough. Only one side had windows, and those were high, round, and small. The little pools of light they cast on the ebony floor seemed feeble.
There were other lights, though. Two large fires roared in hearths large enough for Vestara to stand upright in, and each bed had a candle on the small table beside it. The beds themselves were simple cots with sheets, blankets, and a single pillow. Vestara thought of her lavish, canopied bed at home, piled so high with comfortable pillows that one could sink into sleep surrounded by them, and could not suppress a brief sigh.
One day, she would have such a bed again. Until then, she was certain that by the time she was permitted to return to this simple, crude, uncomfortable-looking cot, she would be so exhausted she would fall asleep the moment she crawled between the sheets.
They were alone in the vast hall at the moment, and Vestara followed Lady Rhea as she walked down between the rows of beds.
“This one is yours,” Lady Rhea said, stopping before one of the beds. Indeed, Vestara recognized the small, neat pile of clothing as the simplest of her own. Folded on top of the pile was her black robe—the one in which she had been training when Ship had first arrived. It had been sweaty and sandy when she had discarded it; now it was clean and folded, ready to wear. Tucked beneath the cot were exactly two pairs of shoes—both boots.
On the table was a handful of personal grooming items. And that was it. That was all Vestara Khai would be permitted from her old life.
“You will soon realize that this is all you will need,” Lady Rhea said.
“Of course,” Vestara said automatically.
“Go ahead and change into your robe.”
Vestara hesitated. Belatedly she realized that there was no privacy at all in the vast room. Was there even a refresher or would she have to utilize a pot of some sort and bathe from the mountain streams?
“There is no place to change,” she said.
“No,” Lady Rhea said, her perfect mouth curving in a smile. “There isn’t. Nor will a room miraculously appear. You will quickly discover that no one here cares, Vestara.