Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [232]
“She couldn’t—” Anakin pressed a hand to his forehead; his dizziness was getting worse. When had he last eaten? He couldn’t remember. It might have been before the last time he’d slept. “She could never …”
“Of course she could,” Palpatine said. “That is the nature of politics, my boy. Don’t take it too personally. It doesn’t mean the two of you can’t be happy together.”
“What—?” The room seemed to darken around him. “What do you mean?”
“Please, Anakin. Are we not past the point of playing childish games with one another? I know, do you understand? I have always known. I have pretended ignorance only to spare you discomfort.”
Anakin had to lean on the desk. “What—what do you know?”
“Anakin, Padmé was my Queen; I was her ambassador to the Senate. Naboo is my home. You of all people know how I value loyalty and friendship; do you think I have no friends among the civil clergy in Theed? Your secret ceremony has never been secret. Not from me, at any rate. I have always been very happy for you both.”
“You—” Words whirled through Anakin’s mind, and none of them made sense. “But if she’s going to betray us—”
“That, my boy,” Palpatine said, “is entirely up to you.”
The fog inside Anakin’s head seemed to solidify into a long, dark tunnel. The point of light at the end was Palpatine’s face. “I don’t—I don’t understand …”
“Oh yes, that’s very clear.” The Chancellor’s voice seemed to be coming from very far away. “Please sit, my boy. You’re looking rather unwell. May I offer you something to drink?”
“I—no. No, I’m all right.” Anakin sank gratefully into a dangerously comfortable chair. “I’m just—a little tired, that’s all.”
“Not sleeping well?”
“No.” Anakin offered an exhausted chuckle. “I haven’t been sleeping well for a few years, now.”
“I quite understand, my boy. Quite.” Palpatine rose and rounded his desk, sitting casually on its front edge. “Anakin, we must stop pretending. The final crisis is approaching, and our only hope to survive it is to be completely, absolutely, ruthlessly honest with each other. And with ourselves. You must understand that what is at stake here is nothing less than the fate of the galaxy.”
“I don’t know—”
“Don’t be afraid, Anakin. What is said between us here need never pass beyond these walls. Anakin, think: think how hard it has been to hold all your secrets inside. Have you ever needed to keep a secret from me?”
He ticked his fingers one by one. “I have kept the secret of your marriage all these years. The slaughter at the Tusken camp, you shared with me. I was there when you executed Count Dooku. And I know where you got the power to defeat him. You see? You have never needed to pretend with me, the way you must with your Jedi comrades. Do you understand that you need never hide anything from me? That I accept you exactly as you are?”
He spread his hands as though offering a hug. “Share with me the truth. Your absolute truth. Let yourself out, Anakin.”
“I—” Anakin shook his head. How many times had he dreamed of not having to pretend to be the perfect Jedi? But what else could he be? “I wouldn’t even know how to begin.”
“It’s quite simple, in the end: tell me what you want.”
Anakin squinted up at him. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t.” The last of the sunset haloed his ice-white hair and threw his face into shadow. “You’ve been trained to never think about that. The Jedi never ask what you want. They simply tell you what you’re supposed to want. They never give you a choice at all. That’s why they take their students—their victims—at an age so young that choice is meaningless. By the time a Padawan is old enough to choose, he has been so indoctrinated—so brainwashed—that he is incapable of even considering the question. But you’re different, Anakin. You had a real life, outside the Jedi Temple. You can break through the fog of lies the Jedi have