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The lighthearted moment vanished. Jag greeted the former queen with a crisp, proper bow and excused himself. He nodded to Jaina and then disappeared back into the swirling crowd. Ta’a Chume led the way to a small receiving room across the hall. Neither woman spoke until they were settled down.

“Enjoying yourself?” Ta’a Chume inquired.

“I think I was about to.”

The queen’s eyes took on a speculative gleam, but she did not comment on the turn of phrase. “Teneniel Djo should have led the dancing, but she did not attend. Do you know why?”

Jaina shook her head.

“Her health did not permit. She was expecting a second child, an heir to the throne of Hapes, or at the very least a son who might find a suitable wife. Then came the attack upon Fondor and the destruction of the Hapan fleet. Teneniel Djo is not precisely a Jedi, but she is what I believe you call Force-sensitive.”

“That’s right,” Jaina confirmed.

“She felt the destruction of the fleet, the deaths of our pilots. The shock was more than she could bear. The child was born too soon, and born dead. Teneniel Djo has never fully recovered.”

The disdain in Ta’a Chume’s voice put Jaina on the defensive. “It’s possible to feel actual pain through the Force, and to experience strong emotions. One of the things a Jedi learns to do is guard against constant bombardment. Teneniel Djo’s sensitivity was stronger than her shields. That doesn’t make her weak.”

“Be that as it may, I am not interested in philosophy, but governance. My son’s wife is not able to attend a diplomatic dinner, much less lead the entire Consortium into war. Isolder is no fool, nor does he shirk his duty. It’s time for him to divorce Teneniel Djo and find a new wife, someone capable of ruling during a time of war.”

Jaina regarded the older woman warily. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”

“You’re in a position to understand such complexities. Your mother was a ruler—a queen of sorts—for many years. Tell me, what came first in your family?”

“She walked a better balance than most people could have,” Jaina said shortly. “My father doesn’t complain. Much.”

“A very pragmatic response,” Ta’a Chume approved. “I see you don’t subscribe to the myths surrounding marriage. It’s not at all what the poets try to make of it, but rather a pragmatic, mutually beneficial alliance, one that is entered into when expedient, and abandoned when it is of no further value.”

Jaina began to get a lock on Ta’a Chume’s target. “You’re considering my mother for Teneniel Djo’s job, and you want me to act as intermediary. With all respect, Your Majesty, you might as well jettison that idea with the rest of the trash.”

The queen’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you always so direct?”

Jaina shrugged. “It saves time. Who knows how long we might have circled around that point, otherwise?”

“Perhaps so. Then let’s speak of more pleasant things. Baron Fel’s son seems a promising young man.”

“He’s an excellent pilot.”

“So are you. But if you are to be an effective leader, you’ll have to know enough of men to be able to take their full measure.” She paused for a sour smile. “Don’t expect too much.”

Jaina rose. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The queen watched her leave, then her gaze shifted to a painted screen. “What do you think?”

A young man in festive garb strolled into the room. “I think I’ve missed something,” Trisdin observed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re nudging your protégée toward this would-be nobleman with bad fashion sense.”

Ta’a Chume sent an arch glance toward her favorite. “Colonel Fel’s formal manner lends itself well to court life and conventions, and his military record is most impressive. He is earnest and handsome and idealistic—very much as Prince Isolder was at that age.”

The woman smiled like a hunting manka cat. “Jaina Solo has little understanding of her own personal power and appeal. She must discover it before she can use it.”

“Ah!” he said slowly. “An unseasoned girl is not likely