[Last Of The Jedi] - 04(23)

She’d had her secrets. Ryoo knew that. She’d known before Padme had that she was in love. She’d known that love was entwined with heartbreak.

Padme’s death had broken her own heart. Ryoo had, according to custom, been the overseer of her funeral. She had kissed her granddaughter’s cold cheek. She had tucked small white blossoms into her clothing and hair. She had wept on a cold floor.

The grief was still a stone in her belly, but she’d found peace here. Padme had loved this place, and Padme was all around her. Padme was part of the galaxy now.

Part of her stays. Somewhere out there in the stars. I feel it. It is enough to feel it. Perhaps someday…

Ryoo stood at the window looking out at the azure lake. She pressed a hand to her chest and felt her heart flutter. Why had she woken this morning with such a sense of foreboding? Why did Padme feel so especially close to her today?

What was this feeling? Why was she so restless?

She had been here for six months, mourning. It was time to return to her life in Theed. She wasn’t too old to find a renewed sense of purpose. Padme would want that.

Maybe that was the source of her anxiety. She knew it was time to let go of her grief, and she was reluctant. She had to remind herself that leaving this place wouldn’t mean leaving her memories of Padme behind.

Ryoo paused by the comlink station. Its insistent blinking told her of messages she should listen to. But she wasn’t ready. Not now. Later. Her family was used to her returning messages later in the day. They wouldn’t worry. They knew her grief needed solitude.

Ryoo smiled at that insistent red light. It spoke of the warm voices of friends and family, eager to bring her news or check on her well-being. It contained the threads of her life.

It was time to pick them up again.

She would leave tomorrow. It was time.

She heard footsteps in the reception hall below. Strange. She was alone here, without servants, and the neighbors weren’t close. She would have seen a gondola, or a speeder, if someone had come to visit.

She walked down the stairs, her slippers whispering on the stone.

He stood, his face in shadow. His robe was deep maroon, the color of dried blood. For a moment her steps faltered. It was as though Death himself had come to call.

Then she recognized the flutter she had felt all morning, the unease. It wasn’t old age at all, it wasn’t restlessness or the realization it was time to be gone.

It was fear.

Padme, Padme, I’m afraid.

She told herself she was being ridiculous. She’d been right; she’d been here too long alone. She walked forward, her hand outstretched, ready to greet the stranger, for on Naboo every stranger is a. potential friend.

He threw back the hood. She saw his eyes, and suddenly she understood, with absolute certainty, what she’d felt the moment she’d awakened. She’d looked for the streaks of lavender that meant the sun was rising, light infiltrating darkness. Now she knew what had been chasing her throughout the day, what she’d believed, what she’d feared.

She was going to die today.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


The old woman was still strong. At first she appeared to greet the stranger with respect. She even offered him tea, which he refused. Malorum hadn’t received the title of Inquisitor for nothing. He knew when even the most skillful being was holding back.

No matter. He would find out. He had come to the end of his journey. He had no more time to waste.

“I know about Naboo rituals,” he said. “I know that you were in charge of your granddaughter’s funeral.”

The woman, small and sturdy, her white hair coiled in back of her head, smiled in a condescending way that made Malorum’s vision go red for a moment. “No one is ‘in charge’ in our funeral rites. I was there to support our grieving family. Naboo, you see, is not hierarchical like your system. Yes, we have a queen, but we elect her, as well as her advisors.”

Malorum felt his teeth grind. “I don’t need a lesson on Naboo political philosophy.”

She inclined her head, but he could see its meaning. She thought him a pompous fool.

She would learn.

“The grandmother is there to make sure everything runs smoothly. This can be quite complicated in a state funeral,” she continued.

“Senator Amidala died of what, would you say?”

“We don’t know.”

“Were there marks on her body?”

He saw her flinch. She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“Who brought her to Theed?”

“I don’t know. I was summoned after she’d arrived.”

“She couldn’t have come on her own,” Malorum said dryly. “She was dead when she got here.”