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“Thanks,” Ben said. “Sounds like you might have to face the same problem.”

“I don’t know any of the apprentices who have gone mad,” she replied. Again, honesty. “I’m sure it would be very difficult if I did, though.”

“You’re Sith,” Ben said suddenly, feeling a bit petty. “You’re not supposed to care about other people, even your so-called friends.”

Vestara shrugged. “Of course I care. I’m human, Ben, not a droid. I love my family and my pet Tikk and—and I loved my friend Ahri. Whom you killed.”

Ben winced inwardly, but pressed on. “Did you love your Master? Lady Rhea?”

She shook her head. “No, but I respected and feared her.”

“Isn’t fear better than love?”

Her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed, and he immediately sensed she was growing irritated with his combative questioning.

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” She turned away from him to regard Dyon Stad, who had been unceremoniously tossed into a vehicle. “So what are we going to do with him? Are you letting the Klatooinians just take him?”

“For now, that’s what Dad wants. He’s going to come down later and talk to the authorities, try to get them to turn him over to us. In the meantime, I think I am in dire need of a sanisteam.”

And just like that, the tension went away as Vestara gave him a quick, playful grin. “Yeah, I was going to say something.”

Ben mock-glared at her, then looked back. “Oh,” he said. “It’s a bit of a hike back to Treema.” Suddenly, his danger sense prickled, and both he and Vestara turned at the same time to see one of the guards aiming a blaster right at them.

“I think perhaps I can give you a lift,” said the guard.

TREEMA COURTHOUSE AND DETENTION AREA, KLATOOINE

“OUR DADS’LL BE HERE SOON,” BEN SAID.

Vestara frowned at him. “We wouldn’t have to wait on them to get us out of here if you’d just let me convince the guards to let us go.”

“Here” was an old, dilapidated holding cell located deep inside the Treema Courthouse and Detention Area. The security systems were utterly inadequate to the task of confining two powerful Force-users. They could have left any time they wished. Vestara was well aware of this and irritated with the fact.

“Problem is,” Ben said, “My dad would want us to cooperate with the officials. And if you try to use mind tricks on the wrong person, they notice and they get pretty ticked off with you. It’s just easier to go along with them.”

She snorted slightly and folded her arms, shifting a bit farther away on the cold durasteel bench. She clearly would have liked to put more distance between them, but there was only one bench in the cell. The only lighting came from glow rods older than they were, and the tiny room smelled musty and unused.

“My father wouldn’t have handled it that way,” Vestara said.

“Your father—” Ben began heatedly, then choked the words back. “Never mind.”

She eyed him, but with more curiosity than irritation. “My father what? Go on.”

It was Ben’s turn to fold his arms. “I said, never mind. They’re just … very different.”

“Well, of course, one is a Jedi and the other is a proud and well-respected Saber,” Vestara said.

He turned to her, angry, then saw that she was smiling at him. Not just her it’s-almost-but-not-really-a-smile, but a genuine one. She was teasing him. Or was she trying to lure him out? He could never tell.

Ben decided to play along. Maybe he’d learn something. At the very least, it was an entertaining way to kill time.

“You seem close to your father, but it’s very … distant,” he said, firing the first volley.

“And you seem overly familiar. Almost rude to him. He should beat you more often.”

“My dad never beat me and never would!” Ben said indignantly, then immediately modified the statement. “Well, when I was younger, I did usually end up a little battered after sparring with him, but that’s completely different.”

“Ah, so that’s what’s wrong with you!” The smile had reached her eyes. “Not beaten enough. A good Sith upbringing and you’d be just fine.