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Every day I wonder if I’m going to snap and take the next ship back to Ylesia. I’m afraid I’m not strong enough to resist—but I must resist. I must face the fact that I am addicted to the Exultation, and that I must fight this addiction. I will need all my energy to do this and win, I’m afraid. I’ve been leaning on you for strength, but that’s not good for either of us. You need all your strength and determination to pass those tests and make it through the Academy.

Please don’t abandon your dream of becoming an officer, Han. Don’t be afraid to use the money I left. My father gave it to us freely, because he likes you and is grateful to you. Like me, he recognizes that you saved my life. Accept his gift, please. We both want you to succeed.

I’ve learned so much from you. How to love, how to be loyal and brave. I’ve also learned how to find people who will help me change my identity, so don’t bother looking for me. I’m going away, and I’m going to beat this addiction. I’m going to do it if it takes my last measure of strength and courage.

You’ve been free all your life, Han. And strong. I envy you for that. I’m going to be free someday, too. And strong.

Maybe then, we can meet again.

Try not to hate me too much for what I’m doing. I dont blame you if you do, though. Please know that, now and forever, I love you …

Yours,

Bria

Han made himself finish the letter all the way through. Each word burned its way into his mind like a laser torch. When he finished, he decided to go back and reread it, because he was trying to put off the moment when he’d have to start feeling and thinking again. While he was reading Bria’s flimsy, it was as if she were still here. He could almost hear her voice. Han knew that the moment he stopped reading, she would be gone again.

But this time, although he squinted hard, he couldn’t make out the words. They were too blurred.

“Honey,” he whispered to the letter, his throat so raw that he could barely force the words out, “you shouldn’t have done this. We were a team, remember?”

Hearing himself use the past tense, Han shuddered, like a man in the grip of a fever. He got up and began pacing back and forth, back and forth. Moving seemed to be the only thing that could help him bear this. Waves of anger and frustration alternated with moments of grief so profound that he thought it might be easier to go mad.

She lied. Never loved me. Rich girl, stuck-up, just having a fling … used me to escape, used me till she got bored. I hate her …

Han groaned aloud, shaking his head. No I don’t. I love her. How could she do this to me? She said she loved me. Liar! Liar? No … she meant it. Face it, Han, she’s been suffering, you know it. Bria was troubled, in pain …

Yes, she’d been in pain. Han remembered all those nights he’d found her sobbing, and had held her, tried to comfort her. Baby … why? I tried so hard to help. You shouldn’t be alone. You should have stayed. We’d have worked it out …

He was terrified that her addiction might send her running back to Ylesia. Han had no illusions about Teroenza’s reaction if she did. The t’landa Til had no capacity to feel pity or to be merciful. The High Priest would order Bria killed if he ever laid eyes on her again.

Han stared dazedly around the squalid little room. Had it only been last night that they’d been here, in each other’s arms? Bria had held him tightly, fiercely. Now Han realized the reason for her passion. She’d known she was holding him for the last time …

He shook his head. How could things change so irrevocably in just a few hours?

Turn time back, some childish part of his mind said. Make it be THEN, not NOW. I don’t like NOW. I want it to be THEN …

But of course that was stupid. Han caught his breath, and the sound was ragged, filled with pain. Almost a sob.

Suddenly he couldn’t stand being here, seeing this dreadful little room, any longer. Stuffing his few belongings into his small bag, Han distributed handfuls of credit vouchers into his inside pockets, against his skin. Then he put on his