Jacen shook his head. “Even so, it should never have happened. I should have—”
“The responsibility is mine,” Tenel Ka broke in, stamping one foot adamantly, her face flushed with emotion. As if she suddenly felt too hot, she unclasped her cloak and tossed it over the back of a cushioned bench, leaving both of her arms bare.
With a stubborn lift of his chin, Jacen looked at the stump of her left arm. It made him feel sick, and he wanted to turn away. This was the first time he had really seen her injury. “I … I won’t let you take all the blame. If I’d been letting the Force direct my movements, I would have sensed something was wrong.” He pointed to where her arm ended so abruptly. “And that would never have happened.”
Tenel Ka’s eyes flashed with smoky gray fire and, using her right arm to hike up her gown to a comfortable thigh level, she plopped onto the cushioned bench. “And had I been using the Force,” she argued, “I would already have known my lightsaber blade was inadequate.”
“Well, I …” Jacen stopped, unable to dredge up a counterargument to convince his infuriatingly proud friend. “I …” He cast about furiously for something else to say and finally finished, “Um, want to hear a joke?”
His mouth dropped open in amazement as Tenel Ka burst into peals of laughter. He could tell that this was neither polite amusement nor hysteria, but the laughter of enjoyment that sprang from the heart. It was a wonderful sound—one he had wanted to hear since the first day they met.
“But …” Jacen shook his head in confusion. “I didn’t even tell my joke.”
“Ah,” Tenel Ka gasped, and tears of merriment began to stream from her eyes. “Aha. I am so glad you’re here.”
Jacen shrugged as fresh waves of mirth assailed her. “I’m not objecting, mind you. I just don’t get it. What’s so funny?”
“We have often been in competition, you and I,” she said. “I have missed that. Shall we now compete for the greater share of blame?”
Jacen gave her a lopsided grin. “Nah. I guess all I really need is for you to accept my apology.”
Tenel Ka began to object but stopped herself. Her laughter faded and her expression turned sober. As if it took a great deal of effort, she said, “Apology accepted. I … forgive you, if that is what you desire.” Her last words came out in a whisper: “Jacen, my friend.”
Relief rushed through Jacen like a morning breeze clearing remnants of lingering fog. He had been holding his breath, and he nearly choked with emotion at her reply. There were no words to express the flood of feelings that welled up in him, so he sat beside Tenel Ka and put both arms around her.
Tenel Ka returned his hug, as best she could, with both arms. Shaking, she pressed a face wet with tears against his shoulder, and Jacen did not think that they were tears of laughter anymore.
When Tenel Ka and Jacen had both composed themselves, they went in search of Jaina and Lowbacca. Then Tenel Ka took the companions on a whirlwind tour of the Fountain Palace, ending at her own chambers. Because chattering went against her nature, the descriptions she provided were brief and succinct.
When they were alone in her rooms, Tenel Ka showed them her favorite—and most private—place in the Fountain Palace, a completely enclosed terrace garden at the center of her suite of rooms. The three-story-high ceiling was domed, and could be adjusted to simulate any kind of weather and any time of day or night.
The garden room was fifty meters across, its curved walls decorated with scenes from Dathomir. Terraced planters held bushes and trees, cunningly arranged to look as if they were part of the painted primitive landscapes.
At the middle of the garden, smooth stone benches surrounded a tiny artificial lake. Centered in the crystal-clear water, like a miniature volcano emerging from a primordial sea, stood a peaked island with a real waterfall flowing down one side.
“I come here when my heart is heavy, or whenever I miss my mother’s homeworld.”
“Beautiful,” Jaina whispered.
Warmed by her friend’s approval, Tenel Ka took a seat on one of the stone benches and gestured for the others to join her. “We may speak freely here,” she said, “and I will answer your questions.”
And so the friends talked, more frankly than they had ever dared before, until Tenel Ka’s grandmother arrived to summon them to evening meal.
“The banquet hall is ready,” Ta’a Chume announced.
Tenel Ka’s jaw took on a stubborn set. For the first time since her return to Hapes, she felt alive. How could her grandmother interrupt now? “We would prefer to eat in privacy,” Tenel Ka said, knowing that she was displaying an appalling lack of courtly manners. But she didn’t care.
The matriarch gave her granddaughter a smug smile. “I’ve already taken care of that,” she said. “I sent away all my attendants and advisors for the evening.”
This was an old game that she and her grandmother played—who could outmaneuver whom—and Tenel Ka took up the challenge. “Then it should be no problem if we choose to eat here.”
“Oh, but the serving droids have already gone into the banquet hall,” the former queen objected. “The meal will be served directly on the hour.”
Tenel Ka saw Jaina glance at her chronometer. “But that’s only five minutes from now,” Jaina said, her eyes registering surprise. “I’ll need some time to wash up first.”
Lowie grunted his agreement, and Jacen said, “Hey, me too. I think we’d all be a lot more comfortable if we weren’t so formal on our first night here.” His grin, aimed at Ta’a Chume, was charming and infectious. “And we’re all pretty tired from our travels.”
Flashing Tenel Ka a look that said she would not give in so easily next time, the matriarch nodded. “Very well, then. I will have the serving droids sent in.”
Ta’a Chume withdrew from Tenel Ka’s private sanctuary, and they all relaxed, glad of the reprieve. Tenel Ka looked gratefully around at her friends and then said, “Let me show you to the refresher units before our meal arrives.” She had just stood up to lead them to the door when suddenly the polished stone shook beneath her feet. An ear-splitting roar rent the air, along with a heavy blast, throwing Tenel Ka to her knees.
Lowbacca yelped with alarm, and Em Teedee replied, “Dear me, yes! Master Lowbacca wishes to inquire as to the origins of all this noise and commotion.”
“Yeah,” Jacen said, “you didn’t warn us you had groundquakes.”
Tenel Ka looked back to see the Wookiee scrambling to his feet and helping the twins back up as well. “That was no groundquake,” she said, grimly launching herself toward the door. “Come with me.”
Tenel Ka’s heart raced, though not with exertion, as the four of them pelted down the corridor toward the private dining hall. Thick smoke billowed from the far end of the vaulted passageway. She felt her stomach clench.
Her dread lessened when a pair of guards emerged from the roiling, sooty clouds, supporting her grandmother. Emergency squads rushed to extinguish the fires still blazing inside the dining hall. Ta’a Chume coughed a few times and waved imperiously for the guards to allow her to walk on her own.
“No one hurt,” she croaked.
“It was a bomb?” Tenel Ka asked.
Her grandmother motioned them all back the way they had come. “Yes. In the dining hall,” she said. “Must leave immediately.”
“We were all supposed to be in the dining hall!” Jaina blanched. “So that bomb—”
The matriarch nodded. “—was meant for the princess and me.”