Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [213]
“I’ll do my best. You, too.”
She blew him a kiss, and the screen went blank.
Anakin fired thrusters and slid the speeder expertly into traffic, angling toward the Jedi Temple, because that part—the part about spending the night at the Temple—was the part that wasn’t a lie.
The lie was that he was going to rest. That he was going to even try. How could he rest when every time he closed his eyes he could see her screaming on the birthing table?
Now the Council’s insult burned hotter than ever; he even had a name, a story, a place to start—but how could he explain to the archives Master why he needed to research a Sith legend of immortality?
Yet maybe he didn’t need the archives after all.
The Temple was still the greatest nexus of Force energy on the planet, perhaps even the galaxy, and it was unquestionably the best place in the galaxy for intense, focused meditation. He had much he needed the Force to teach him, and a very short time to learn.
He would start by thinking inward.
Thinking about himself…
THE WILL OF THE FORCE
When her handmaiden Moteé awakened her with the word that C-3PO had announced a Jedi was waiting to see her, Padmé flew out of bed, threw on a robe, and hurried out to her living room, a smile breaking through her sleepiness like the dawn outside—
But it was Obi-Wan.
The Jedi Master had his back to her, hands clasped behind him as he drifted restlessly about the room, gazing with abstracted lack of interest at her collection of rare sculpture.
“Obi-Wan,” she said breathlessly, “has—” She bit off the following something happened to Anakin? How would she explain why this was the first thing out of her mouth?
“—has See-Threepio offered you anything to drink?”
He turned to her, a frown clearing from his brow. “Senator,” he said warmly. “So good to see you again. I apologize for the early hour, and yes, your protocol droid has been quite insistent on offering me refreshment.” His frown began to regather. “But as you may guess, this is not a social call. I’ve come to speak with you about Anakin.”
Her years in politics had trained her well; even as her heart lurched and a shrill How much does he know? echoed inside her head, her face remained only attentively blank.
A primary rule of Republic politics: tell as much truth as you can. Especially to a Jedi. “I was very happy to learn of his appointment to the Council.”
“Yes. It is perhaps less than he deserves—though I’m afraid it may be more than he can handle. Has he been to see you?”
“Several times,” she said evenly. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”
Obi-Wan tilted his head, and a hint of rueful smile showed through his beard. “You should have been a Jedi.”
She managed a light laugh. “And you should never go into politics. You’re not very good at hiding your feelings. What is it?”
“It’s Anakin.” With his pretense of cheer fading away, he seemed to age before her eyes. He looked very tired, and profoundly troubled. “May I sit?”
“Please.” She waved him to the couch and lowered herself onto its edge beside him. “Is he in trouble again?”
“I certainly hope not. This is more … a personal matter.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “He’s been put in a difficult position as the Chancellor’s representative, but I think there’s more to it than that. We—had words, yesterday, and we parted badly.”
Her heart shrank; he must know, and he’d come to confront her—to bring their whole lives crashing down around their ears. She ached for Anakin, but her face showed only polite curiosity.
“What were these words about?” she asked delicately.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” he said with a vaguely apologetic frown. “Jedi business. You understand.”
She inclined her head. “Of course.”
“It’s only that—well, I’ve been a bit worried about him. I was hoping he may have talked to you.”
“Why would he talk to me about—” She favored him with her best friendly-but-skeptical smile. “—Jedi business?”
“Senator—Padmé. Please.” He gazed into her eyes with nothing on his face but compassion and fatigued anxiety. “I am not blind,