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She held one hand pressed to her chest as though to keep her heart from leaping out. “No—no, it’s all right. I just—Anakin, you shouldn’t be out here. It’s still daylight—”

“I couldn’t wait, Padmé. I had to see you.” He took her in his arms. “Tonight is forever from now—how am I supposed to live that long without you?”

Her hand went from her chest to his. “But we’re in full view of a million people, and you’re a very famous man. Let’s go inside.”

He drew her back from the edge of the veranda, but made no move to enter the apartment. “How are you feeling?”

Her smile was radiant as Tatooine’s primary as she took his flesh hand and pressed it to the soft fullness of her belly. “He keeps kicking.”

“He?” Anakin asked mildly. “I thought you’d ordered your medical droid not to spoil the surprise.”

“Oh, I didn’t get this from the Emdee. It’s my …” Her smile went softly sly. “… motherly intuition.”

He felt a sudden pulse against his palm and laughed. “Motherly intuition, huh? With a kick that hard? Definitely a girl.”

She laid her head against his chest. “Anakin, let’s go inside.”

He nuzzled her gleaming coils of hair. “I can’t stay. I’m on my way to meet with the Chancellor.”

“Yes, I heard about your appointment to the Council. Anakin, I’m so proud of you.”

He lifted his head, an instant scowl gathering on his forehead. Why did she have to bring that up?

“There’s nothing to be proud of,” he said. “This is just political maneuvering between the Council and the Chancellor. I got caught in the middle, that’s all.”

“But to be on the Council, at your age—”

“They put me on the Council because they had to. Because he told them to, once the Senate gave him control of the Jedi.” His voice lowered toward a growl. “And because they think they can use me against him.”

Padmé’s eyes went oddly remote, and thoughtful. “Against him,” she echoed. “The Jedi don’t trust him?”

“That doesn’t mean much. They don’t trust me, either.” Anakin’s mouth compressed to a thin bitter line. “They’ll give me a chair in the Council Chamber, but that’s as far as it will go. They won’t accept me as a Master.”

Her gaze returned from that thoughtful distance, and she smiled up at him. “Patience, my love. In time, they will recognize your ability.”

“They already recognize my abilities. They fear my abilities,” he said bitterly. “But this isn’t even about that. Like I said: it’s a political game.”

“Anakin—”

“I don’t know what’s happening to the Order, but whatever it is, I don’t like it.” He shook his head. “This war is destroying everything the Republic is supposed to stand for. I mean, what are we fighting for, anyway? What about all this is worth saving?”

Padmé nodded sadly, disengaging from Anakin’s arms and drifting away. “Sometimes I wonder if we’re on the wrong side.”

“The wrong side?”

You think everything I’ve accomplished has been for nothing—?

He frowned at her. “You can’t mean that.”

She turned from him, speaking to the vast airway beyond the veranda’s edge. “What if the democracy we’re fighting for no longer exists? What if the Republic itself has become the very evil we’ve been fighting to destroy?”

“Oh, this again.” Anakin irritably waved off her words. “I’ve been hearing that garbage ever since Geonosis. I never thought I’d hear it from you.”

“A few seconds ago you were saying almost the same thing!”

“Where would the Republic be without Palpatine?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m not sure it would be worse than where we are.”

All the danger, all the suffering, all the killing, all my friends who gave their lives—?

All for nothing—?

He bit down on his temper. “Everybody complains about Palpatine having too much power, but nobody offers a better alternative. Who should be running the war? The Senate? You’re in the Senate, you know those people—how many of them do you trust?”

“All I know is that things are going wrong here. Our government is headed in exactly the wrong direction. You know it, too—you just said so!”

“I didn’t mean that. I just—I’m tired of