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“I’m still working on that,” Jaina admitted. Her gaze strayed to Lowbacca, who was hunched over what appeared to be an enormous villip.

“Then I’ll leave you to it.”

She caught her mother’s hand as she turned to go. “Thanks, Mom.”

“For what?”

“You didn’t bring up Kyp Durron.”

Leia’s smile took on a sardonic edge. “I never thought you were serious about becoming his apprentice. When your father mentioned in Kyp’s hearing that you weren’t planning to attend Anakin’s funeral, he took after you with all the subtlety of an avenging Gamorrean. I’d assumed the apprentice comment was meant as a jab at him, prompted by his heavy-handedness.”

“Something like that,” she said absently. “Is Dad upset that I almost didn’t go to Anakin’s funeral?”

“Since I nearly had to use a stun baton on him to get him to attend Chewbacca’s memorial, I think he understands. Just make sure that you do.” She started to add something to that, then changed her mind. “I’d hoped to bring you back to the camp, but I can see that’s not going to happen. You’ve got work to do here. Be careful.”

Jaina promised she would, and held on to her impatient sigh until the brisk click of Leia’s footsteps faded away. She picked up the villip and resumed her attempts to attune it.

A tapping at the open portal distracted her. Muttering imprecations, she stomped toward the door. She was momentarily nonplused to learn that her visitor was Jag.

“I came for an apology,” he said without preamble.

Jaina folded her arms. “Fine, but make it quick. I’m busy.”

“Actually, I came prepared to listen.”

Her eyebrows leapt up. “Then I hope your schedule is wide open, because you’re likely to be standing there for a very long time. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You deliberately tried to provoke an argument.”

“Yeah? So?”

He stared at her for a moment, shoved a hand through his short black hair. “How did an Alderaanian princess end up with such a daughter?”

Jaina’s temper flared. “Do you want the short answer, or do you need someone to explain the details to you with charts and diagrams?”

Spots of color appeared high on his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant, as I’m sure you know.”

His discomfiture was oddly satisfying. If this had been a fencing match, Jaina would have awarded herself a point. Scenting victory, she reached out with the Force and considered the emotions she perceived in the young man’s powerful presence. He was angry, more than a little embarrassed, and not entirely certain about his purpose in coming here.

Uncertainty, she decided. Of all the emotions she sensed coming from Jag Fel, that one would bother him the most. So she envisioned a thick fog, then sent it toward Jag like a psychic shove. His brow furrowed, and he glanced around in puzzlement.

“Why are you here, Jag?” she asked, just to twist the knife a bit.

He composed himself quickly. “Tenel Ka told me that you will be training with Kyp Durron. Since Kyp flies under my command, may I assume that you’ll be joining the Vanguard Squadron?”

“Tenel Ka was misinformed. So are you, if you think that Kyp does anything for anyone unless it suits him.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Assuming you’re right, I get the impression that Kyp is not the only one playing some sort of game.”

“And winning,” she added smugly.

“Since that perception gives you such apparent satisfaction, I hope the rules of engagement can be modified for solitaire.” He executed a deep and extremely formal bow and strode off.

To her surprise, Jaina realized she was grinning like a well-fed Hutt. Baiting the Chiss commander was the first truly enjoyable thing she had experienced in a long time. Watching his retreat was satisfying, for more reasons than one. Jag Fel was one of those people who looked good from every angle.

She felt Lowbacca’s presence approaching. He came up beside her and grumbled a question.

“I don’t have anything against Jag Fel,” she commented. “He can be a lot of fun, whether he means to be or not.”

Lowbacca made a derisive comment about her idea of fun.

Her bright mood tarnished as she