She brought the live blade around slowly and he simply batted it down dismissively, "Like you mean it."
Raising her eyebrows, Mara swung back and brought her saber in horizontally with real force, Skywalker catching it up with his own, leaning back just slightly on his centre of gravity as he angled the two blades forward without looking, to guide them over and past his head, taking a short backstep as he did so, the move ending with his own blade over Mara's; always the desired position since it gave the wielder control.
Mara nodded in appreciation as he straightened and took a slow step forward and to her side to illustrate this, his sabre remaining high but horizontal, so that as he moved forward he was effectively inside her defences with a killing blow.
"That's why you can't be afraid of your own blade- it's always got to be between you and your opponent's lightsaber, no matter how close that is." He stepped to the side, hands out low before him, making slow loops with his saber to either side of his body, passing the hilt smoothly from one hand to the other as he did so. "Just try this- you can go wide to start with."
Mara followed suit, holding her blade out before her, the look of concentration on her face as she made the first loop and tried a cagey pass-over of the hilt making Skywalker stifle a smile.
"Are you laughing at me?!" she said, stopping dead.
"Absolutely not." he countered, "Keep going..."
Mara started the slow loop again then paused, "You are!"
"I'm not! I'm laughing with you."
"I'm not laughing."
"Really? You would if you could see your expression."
"Okay, that's it."
"Sorry." He smiled disarmingly, "Sorry; I take it back. You should... keep practicing. When you can do it without... scrunching your face up like that, you'll know you've mastered it."
"Is that why you do it-" Mara asked, "So you're not afraid of a live blade?
"Yeah-" He grinned wickedly, allowing the casual drawl of his natural Rim accent for a moment- something he often did when alone with Mara, "But I also like to do it just because it freaks you out."
Mara just couldn't help but flash a sarcastic smile in return, "Hey, you want to cut your own ears off, that's fine with me."
"You just don't want to have to be the one who has to tell Palpatine when I do, right?"
"Precisely." Mara said primly, "He was just trying to make sure he wasn't afraid, Excellency, and he accidentally cut his own head off."
Luke shrugged, "No great loss."
Mara glanced down to her saber, her own smile fading just slightly, "Is that why you did the thing in your TIE fighter yesterday?"
"What thing?" Luke was instantly, visibly uncomfortable, his Coruscanti accent returning as all his shields slammed into place.
"What- d'you think I haven't noticed?" she glanced up, trying to keep her tone at once light and sincere. "Every so often you go completely off the deep and do something outrageously stupid. Like that firefight on Tanaab. And when you were flying down to the Palace yesterday. You just... flip out."
"Thanks." Luke said dryly.
"I'm serious-" she maintained, an earnest tone coming through in her voice; no side, no pretence- just genuine, upfront concern. "Why do you do that?"
"I just..." he shrugged uneasily, caught offguard by the undisguised gravity in her voice, that perfect accent falling away again in response, "I guess I'm... giving Fate a chance."
Mara frowned, uncertain at the explanation, though she knew he was telling the truth. "What does that mean?"
He sighed, eyes to the ground, "Just... giving it a free shot, I guess. If I'm not... meant to be here, doing what I'm doing - if I'm wrong - then... that's Fate's chance to set it right."
"So you're... giving Fate a free shot at you?" Mara asked doubtfully.
What was going on in his head that he would do that?
A few months before the Assassination attempt, in a running firefight between the 701st and local militia on Neimodia, he'd made Mara's heart rise into her mouth as he walked to the front line and out from cover over to a wall panel which closed down the far doors and so rendered the militia trapped within a storage compound. Just walked out - not crouched or run, not lifted a hand in self-defence - just walked out, as if he were taking a quiet stroll.
And a few months before that on Ord Mirit, when a Twi-Lek had stepped out from the crowd and taken two shots at him - two shots from a heavy handgun at close range - he'd just stood there and let her. Just watched her step from the crowd- had watched her before that, Mara knew, knowing her intent, because by the time she pushed forward he'd already stopped and turned face on to her, head tilted to one side just... waiting.
She'd been wrestled to the ground and disarmed of course, Mara and Reece stepping in, Reece to place himself forward of Skywalker as Mara tried to yank him back, but he'd twisted easily free without even seeming to notice. He'd just kept his eyes on the Twi-Lek as they'd bundled her up and into a troop transport, stormtroopers closing in about him to obscure his view, though in truth it was pretty much over by then. The danger had passed and, unsettling as it was, Mara realised that even knowing it was coming he'd done nothing to prevent it or change its outcome.
What could possibly be going on in his head that he allowed - even sought out - these insane moments of risk? What did he believe he was doing that was so reprehensible that the only way to appease his own conscience was to allow 'Fate' its chance at redress?
He remained as ever a puzzle within a mystery within an enigma to Mara, and the more she tried to fathom him, the less she realised she knew. But the more it drew her in, that distant whispering presence at the edge of her consciousness as addictive as ever, pushing all other considerations aside in her fascination.
Did he feel the same? Because despite his recent unprecedented easing of the composed reserve which had always maintained a polite distance between them, she had no idea - none at all.
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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Luke stood again in the huge, gilded ante-room which connected to his Master's Private Audience Chamber, staring out through the massed banks of tall windows to the distant Capital, his mind focused on the delicate negotiations which he was about to initiate.
He had remained in the Palace for almost a week now, keeping to himself, trying to maintain a low profile in his quarters aside from his daily trips to the Practice Halls and attending Court when commanded to do so by the Emperor, remaining always just within the bounds of respectful behaviour without involving himself further.
The Emperor had of course noted this, but so far had elected to hold his silence, choosing instead to charge his Jedi with a thousand petty assignments in and around the Palace, forcing him to interact with various Courtiers and sycophants and attendants, all of which Luke had completed without comment.
Lord Vader had been recalled to Coruscant, which meant that at least Luke had managed to delay having to pass the information on by recommending that communicating such sensitive information over even secure channels was inadvisable, and based on his present schedule, Lord Vader would have time to be briefed in person on Coruscant before setting out to Bothawuii. On these terms, the Emperor had permitted Luke to continue making preparations for the strike, allowing the illusion that he may yet have some involvement even though Luke knew that Palpatine was simply waiting for the perfect moment to snatch it from his grasp again.
It was the kind of petty battle of wills which Luke tired of very quickly yet his Master seemed to thrive on, leaving Luke feeling frustrated and trapped, knowing that Palpatine was simply playing his games with no intention of ever letting his precious Jedi out of the Core Systems, forcing Luke into the kind of underhand, circuitous schemes that he so detested in others.