Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [328]
In some ways the Jedi had led a life of royalty.
The order had been wealthy, privileged, entitled.
And that was why we didn’t see it coming, Shryne thought.
Why so many of the Jedi had turned a blind eye to the trap Palpatine had been setting. Because they had refused to accept that such entitlement could ever come to an end—could all come crashing down around them. And yet even those who hadn’t denied the possibility would never have believed that thousands of Jedi could be killed in one fell swoop, or that the order could be ended with one bold stroke, as if pierced through the heart.
We were played, he told himself.
And Skeck was right: knowing that you had been played was worse than losing.
But Roan Shryne—by a quirk of fate, circumstance, the will of the Force—had survived, been brought face-to-face with his mother, and was now at a loss as to what to make of it.
He had seen his share of mothers interacting with their children, and he understood what a child was supposed to feel, how he or she was supposed to behave. But all he felt toward the woman opposite him was an unspecific connection in the Force.
Shryne wasn’t the first Jedi to have inadvertently encountered a blood relative. Over the years he had heard stories about Padawans, Jedi Knights, even Masters running into parents, siblings, cousins …
Unfortunately, he had never heard how any of the stories ended.
“I never wanted you to be found,” Jula said when she had deactivated the holoprojector. “To this day I don’t understand how your father could hand you over to the Jedi. When I learned he had contacted the Temple, and that Jedi agents were coming for you, I tried to talk your father into hiding you.”
“That rarely happens,” Shryne said. “Most Force-sensitive infants were voluntarily surrendered to the Temple.”
“Really? Well, it happened to me.”
Shryne regarded her with his eyes, and through the Force.
“Who do you think you inherited your abilities from?” Jula asked.
“Awareness does not always run in families.” He smiled lightly. “But I sensed the Force in you the moment you entered the cabin.”
“And I knew you did.”
Shryne exhaled and sat back in the chair. “So your own parents chose to keep you from joining the order.”
She nodded. “And I’m grateful they did. I would never have been able to abide by the rules. And I never wanted you to have to abide by them, Roan.” She considered something. “I have a confession to make: all my life I’ve known that I would meet you somewhere along the way. I think that’s partly the reason I took up piloting after your father and I separated. In the hope of, well, bumping into you. It’s because of our Force connection that I brought the Dancer to this sector. I sensed you, Roan.”
For many Jedi, luck and coincidence didn’t exist, but Shryne wasn’t one of them. “What happened between you and your husband?” he asked finally.
Jula laughed shortly. “You, really. Jen, your father, simply didn’t agree with me about the need to protect you—to hide you, I mean. We argued bitterly about it, but he was a true believer. He felt that I should never have been hidden; that I’d basically turned my back on what would ultimately have been a more fulfilling life. And, of course, that you would profit from being raised in the Temple.
“Jen had the strength—I guess you could call it strength—to forget about you after he handed you over to the Jedi. No, that’s too harsh. He had confidence enough in his decision to believe that he had made the right choice, and that you were doing well.” Jula shook her head. “I could never get there. I missed you. It broke my heart to see you leave, and know that I might never see you again. That’s what eventually ruined us.”
Shryne mulled it over. “Jen sounds like he was Jedi without the title.”
“How so?”
“Because he understood that you have to accept what destiny sets in front of you. That you have to pick and choose your battles.”
Her gray eyes searched his face.