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“I could have been right in the middle of delicate negotiations or working on something highly classified, you know.”

“You weren’t. Ashik would have told me.” Ashik was the “core name” of Kthira’shi’ktarloo, the Chiss male who was Jag’s assistant, attendant, and head of his personal security. Jag trusted the Chiss completely, and it had surprised no one when a member of that species had been appointed to such a position. Ashik—tall, soft-spoken, with a sharp nose, full lips, and piercing eyes—was genial enough, and certainly understood the relationship Jaina and Jag had, but he had no compunctions about denying her, or anyone, entrance if he did not feel it appropriate. Jaina had bridled initially, but it was clear she also respected Ashik’s determination.

Jag sighed. He had a feeling he knew what the favor was about to be, and he didn’t want to get involved. It seemed that more and more, events—and people, even people they loved—were conspiring to drive them apart. Even though he had vowed to her that nothing as petty as politics would come between them, a vow he fully intended to keep, he had to admit that it was certainly causing things to become frayed around the edges.

“I suppose he would have, yes,” he said. “So what’s the favor?”

Jaina smiled, slipped her legs neatly over the edge of the desk, and slid off it to sit in his lap. Despite his worry about the nature of the favor, Jag found himself smiling as he pulled her into his arms. They kissed, passionately but sweetly, and he felt the tension inside him ease. He loved Jaina Solo, was looking forward to marrying her, and nothing in the galaxy was going to change that.

She sat back and grinned at him. “Okay,” Jag said, “That’s a favor I can get behind.”

She punched his shoulder in mock annoyance. “That’s not the favor, that’s the bribe. I figure if I’m going to become a politician’s wife, I have to start thinking of things like that.”

“So you should,” he agreed in his most serious voice, nodding and settling her into his lap. “And I approve of the nature of the bribe. So, Jedi Solo. You have my full attention. Ask your favor.”

The playful smile faded from her lovely face, and her eyes turned serious. “It’s about Tahiri Veila.”

Jag felt his own good humor bleed out. “That’s what I thought.”

“Jag, she’s already lost two advocates. She’s going to get someone the court appoints, and the court has it in for her,” Jaina said.

“I know that both you and I have had our issues with the Chief of State, but I really don’t think she’d go so far as to pack the jury or deliberately appoint someone to lose Tahiri’s case for her.”

“I do,” Jaina said.

He eyed her. “Really?”

“Of course! Daala’s smarting from Niathal’s suicide. Tahiri Veila is a perfect target for her frustration. You think she’s going to let that go? She’d be like Anji with her stuffed eopie.”

It was an apt analogy. Jag and Jaina had been over to dinner at the Solos’ residence before Han, Leia, and Allana had been forced to find new quarters. Jag had met the latest member of the family, Anji, a young nexu cub. Leia had been forced to kill its mother when the Jedi Knight Natua Wan had snapped and let loose the dangerous animals at the Coruscant Livestock Show and Exhibition. Allana, according to Jaina, had argued that they therefore had a responsibility to care for the orphaned animals—one of them, at least. And that fortunate cub had been Anji.

Anji had dulled quills, clipped claws, and a restraint that prevented her from biting hard enough to draw blood. She adored Allana and seemed gentle enough, for what she was, but kept attacking a stuffed eopie. She would let no one come near it, growling and gnawing upon it despite the bite restraint until Jag was certain that bits of the eopie’s fabric innards would be strewn over the carpeting and furniture. It was testimony to how well made the toy was that that didn’t happen. Jag thought perhaps he should invest in the toy company; their products