Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [178]
But then again, he wouldn’t be with Roki Kem if Vol were alive.
She did not grant interviews, smiling apologetically every time a reporter shouted out something to her, moving steadily up the steps in a long, shimmering dress that looked like flowing water. They reached the top, then turned around and looked down.
So much adoration in the faces as they looked up at her. So much faith, and trust, and hope. And she—her face alight with love, if completely false, for the people she had been chosen to guide.
It occurred to Workan that it might not be such a big step to “goddess” after all.
With a final wave, Roki turned and entered the Temple. Several Sith stood at attention. Among them were Senators, business owners, holoanchors, security chiefs. They all were beautiful, and ready to serve, and Workan was terribly proud of them.
One of Roki’s assistants was speaking into a comm. She clicked it off, approached her mistress, and bowed.
“I have news, my lady, both good and bad,” she said. “First, I am pleased to report to you that as of two minutes ago, Senator Padnel Ovin is dead.”
Roki smiled her falsely sweet smile. “I knew that already,” she said, and actually giggled a little. “What is the rest of your news?”
The woman hesitated. “Well,” she said, “unfortunately, it appears that Jedi Solo escaped before we could move her to a more secure location to await her execution.”
The blue-green brows drew together, and even Workan had to brace himself against the fury he knew was coming. “An escape? She is gone? Who did this? I will find and destroy them!”
“My lady,” the woman kept insisting, “please—we were able to capture one of those who had assisted with the escape. We have arranged for him to be brought here, assuming that you would wish to see him and … attend to his punishment yourself.”
Workan felt the storm of Roki’s anger subsiding before the prospect of torturing one who had displeased her. “You assumed rightly,” she said. “Bring him before me. Now.”
The woman bowed again and hurried off, speaking into her comlink. Workan turned toward Roki. “You do realize that Leia and her rescuers couldn’t possibly have known about your, ah, new policy toward the Jedi,” he said. “This is simply an unfortunate coincidence.”
She jerked her head to look at him. “Unfortunate for them,” she said. “They will regret ever knowing her by the time I am through with them. But I will learn what I want to know.”
Workan wondered who had dared break Leia out of prison. Whoever it was, her husband certainly had to be among them. He wondered where Leia’s adopted daughter was—Amelia, he believed her name to be. If they could find her, that would certainly be excellent leverage.
The assistant was returning. With her were two human males. Between them, they half carried, half dragged another male. His head was covered by a hood and his hands were tightly, obviously painfully, bound. The guards brought their prisoner up to Roki and stood, awaiting their orders.
She addressed the prisoner first. “Kneel,” she ordered. “Show proper respect to your Beloved Queen of the Stars.”
The prisoner didn’t move. One of the guards shoved him down, and he grunted as his knees struck stone.
“Remove the hood,” Roki said.
They had thrown the hood over him the second he had appeared, tackling him and literally beating him into submission. Dorvan had passed out and had only recent awakened to find his wrists tied together and the hood still firmly in place over his head. When they pulled it off him, the light was so bright it hurt his eyes.
His vision cleared, and he found himself looking up into a blue, beautiful, female face.
Rokari Kem. He blinked, utterly disbelieving. Surely he was still unconscious.
“Wynn Dorvan,” Roki purred. “I confess, this is a surprise. But a happy one. You have served two Chiefs of State. And, I think,