Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [274]
“Even a fraction of the dark side is more power than your Jedi arrogance can conceive; living in the light, you have never seen the depth of the darkness.”
The shadow spread arms that made its sleeves into black wings.
“Until now.”
Lightning speared from outstretched hands, and the battle was on.
Padmé stumbled down the landing ramp into Anakin’s arms.
Her eyes were raw and numb; once inside the ship, her emotional control had finally shattered and she had sobbed the whole way there, crying from relentless mind-shredding dread, and so her lips were swollen and her whole body shook and she was just so grateful, so incredibly grateful, that again she flooded with fresh tears: grateful that he was alive, grateful that he’d come bounding across the landing deck to meet her, that he was still strong and beautiful, that his arms still were warm around her and his lips were soft against her hair.
“Anakin, my Anakin …” She shivered against his chest. “I’ve been so frightened …”
“Shh. Shh, it’s all right.” He stroked her hair until her trembling began to fade, then he cupped her chin and gently raised her face to look into his eyes. “You never need to worry about me. Didn’t you understand? No one can hurt me. No one will ever hurt either of us.”
“It wasn’t that, my love, it was—oh, Anakin, he said such terrible things about you!”
He smiled down at her. “About me? Who would want to say bad things about me?” He chuckled. “Who would dare?”
“Obi-Wan.” She smeared tears from her cheeks. “He said—he told me you turned to the dark side, that you murdered Jedi … even younglings …”
Just having gotten the words out made her feel better; now all she had to do was rest in his arms while he held her and hugged her and promised her he would never do anything like any of that, and she started half a smile aimed up toward his eyes—
But instead of the light of love in his eyes, she saw only reflections of lava.
He didn’t say, I could never turn to the dark side.
He didn’t say, Murder younglings? Me? That’s just crazy.
He said, “Obi-Wan’s alive?”
His voice had dropped an octave, and had gone colder than the chills that were spreading from the base of her spine.
“Y-yes—he, he said he was looking for you …”
“Did you tell him where I am?”
“No, Anakin! He wants to kill you. I didn’t tell him anything—I wouldn’t!”
“Too bad.”
“Anakin, what—”
“He’s a traitor, Padmé. He’s an enemy of the state. He has to die.”
“Stop it,” she said. “Stop talking like that … you’re frightening me!”
“You’re not the one who needs to be afraid.”
“It’s like—it’s like—” Tears brimmed again. “I don’t even know who you are anymore …”
“I’m the man who loves you,” he said, but he said it through clenched teeth. “I’m the man who would do anything to protect you. Everything I have done, I have done for you.”
“Anakin …” Horror squeezed her voice down to a whisper: small, and fragile, and very young. “… what have you done?”
And she prayed that he wouldn’t actually answer.
“What I have done is bring peace to the Republic.”
“The Republic is dead,” she whispered. “You killed it. You and Palpatine.”
“It needed to die.”
New tears started, but they didn’t matter; she’d never have enough tears for this. “Anakin, can’t we just … go? Please. Let’s leave. Together. Today. Now. Before you—before something happens—”
“Nothing will happen. Nothing can happen. Let Palpatine call himself Emperor. Let him. He can do the dirty work, all the messy, brutal oppression it’ll take to unite the galaxy forever—unite it against him. He’ll make himself into the most hated man in history. And when the time is right, we’ll throw him down—”
“Anakin, stop—”
“Don’t you see? We’ll be heroes. The whole galaxy will love us, and we will rule. Together.”
“Please stop—Anakin, please, stop, I can’t stand it …”
He wasn’t listening to her. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking past her shoulder.
Feral joy burned from his eyes, and his face was no longer human.
“You …”
From behind her, calmly precise, with that clipped Coruscanti accent: “Padmé. Move away from him.”