• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Typically, he found the sound soothing. Now, when he thought of the word fountain, all he could recall was the Fountain of the Hutt Ancients on Klatooine. It had been the epitome of arrogance and foolishness for Taalon to want to harvest a piece of the thing. It had led to the unnecessary loss of several members of the Lost Tribe. Normally, such a thing would not concern him. But he could not help but wonder if perhaps, had they had another ship full of Sith, they might have been able to triumph over and properly subdue Abeloth after all, rather than being in the unpleasant position of trying to strike an alliance with her.

Yet … this could be a good thing. If she were, indeed, more powerful than the Lost Tribe—

He sensed his wife’s wakefulness and concern, heard the soft pad of bare feet as she came up behind him and slipped her arms around his trim waist. Absently he covered one of her hands with his cybernetic one. Her cheek pressed against his back.

“Why does my husband not rest soundly in his own bed?” Lahka asked quietly. “Surely he is not worrying about the event to come.”

Gavar did not answer immediately. He sighed, then turned to face his wife and gather her in his arms.

“I am, yes,” he confessed. “There is much riding on how things go tomorrow night.” He glanced up at the moon and amended his words. “Tonight.”

She smiled up at him. Lahka had not a speck of Force sensitivity in her. Normally, that would have made her automatically undeserving of his affections. But Lahka had other extremely worthy qualities. She was intelligent, patient, and knew how to keep secrets. And she was beautiful, as beautiful as any Keshiri woman, though she was human. Even now, well past her youth, her soft smile moved him. She had proven a good mate and mother, and he had missed her.

Her eyes searched his. “You are worried about our daughter,” she said.

Gavar tapped her nose lightly. “And you tell people you aren’t Force-sensitive.”

“I am Gavar-sensitive,” she said, humor warm in her voice, “which is perhaps even better.”

They had not spoken of Vestara until now, and Gavar found that he yearned to unburden himself of the worry. No one in the galaxy knew Vestara as well as he and Lahka did. Perhaps she could shed some insight.

So standing on the balcony, his arms around his wife, Gavar Khai spoke quietly of the challenges he had set their daughter. Of her success, or possible failure. Of killing High Lord Taalon. Lahka didn’t protest, or seem upset in any way. Both her daughter and her mate were powerful dark side users. He was the one best suited to guide Vestara, not she. But Gavar knew she loved them both, and he welcomed the chance to speak freely.

“She loves this Jedi boy?” Lahka asked.

“While he is yet a boy, he is already a Jedi Knight. Their equivalent of a Saber. And yes, I believe she does.”

“Do you think she could sway him? He could be a powerful asset to the Tribe, and it sounds like he will treat our daughter properly—with respect and care.” Lahka had the correct priorities—first the Tribe, and then their child.

“I fear he might sway her. Sometimes I think she is truly my daughter, a fierce and proud Sith, as I have trained her to be. And sometimes I think she is on the verge of betraying all of us.”

She gave him another one of her smiles, almost radiant with love. “Not our Vestara. She knows her duty. To the dark side, to the Sith, to the Lost Tribe, to us. Even if she falters, I have faith she will not truly fall from the path.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, sighing softly. “I hope you are right,” he said. He did not have to elaborate. If Vestara betrayed them, his duty would be to slay her. And Lahka knew it.

Wordlessly, Lahka lifted her mouth to his and kissed him. Her fingers curled around his cybernetic arm, and she led him back into the bedroom.

Gavar left her again once she had fallen asleep, quickly donning his robes and slipping out. He walked the halls of his own home as if he were a stranger, seeing everything