Private Blood and Fire

[Jaina Grayson]

Necropolis, Core Worlds
One Year Later...​

"C'mon, I know you can hit me!"

Jaina grinned from ear to ear as Aramis struggled to find a weak spot in her defense. Hoping to improve his skills as a fighter via sparring, they had cleared out a spare room of the spa to serve as a makeshift dojo. Jaina was in her Warrior Form, all blood and fire. While she wielded a simple staff, Aramis had chosen a vibroblade. So far she had parried every strike he made.

"Really, darling," he huffed. "You're much too capable in this Form. I'm at a disadvantage."

"What, you want me to go easy on you?" She laughed. "We're playing on Normal level here, not Hard. And definitely not Legendary!" She pouted. "Don't tell me you're afraid of hurting me."

Aramis balked at the absurdity of the notion. "Don't be ridiculous. As if I could ever hurt you."

Maybe not physically. Jaina pushed the thought down and tapped her staff against the mat. "Try again. You can score a hit against me. You just need to keep at it."

He raised his blade, eyes watching her every move. She launched an offensive, lashing out in a series of rapid attacks. He was able to block the blows, even if he lacked a certain finesse. There were plenty of gaps in which he could've made a move of his own, but he never took them.

"You know, for a revolutionary activist, you're pretty reluctant to be on the offensive." She swept her staff low, attempting to knock his feet out from under him. He leaped out of the way in the nick of time, but now she had him cornered. "You can't just keep defending forever. Someone has to win the fight. Will it be you?"

She thrust the blunt end of her staff toward him. Rather than parry it, he dodged the thrust and lashed forward, striking her neck and opening a deep gash in her flesh.

Aramis' face lost all color, his expression stricken. "Oh god, Jaina..."

"It's all right, remember?" she assured him with a grin even as a severed artery in her neck spurted blood. She reached up and pushed her dangling head back into place. The severed tissue began to rapidly heal, sealing itself. "I'm okay. You did great! I told you you could hit me."

 

[Jaina Grayson]

Aramis still looked a little queasy even after her head sewed itself back on. "I think that's enough sparring for today," Jaina continued, hoping to divert his attention away from her curious physiology. "Ah, lunchtime. Are you hungry?"

"Famished," he murmured, finally tearing his eyes away from her neck.

She led the way to the dining room, where her server droids had prepared grilled nuna sandwiches. Lalu arrived at around the same time they did, escorted by a nanny droid Jaina had coded especially for the girl. She and Aramis began conversing cheerfully while Jaina discreetly wiped off the blood on her neck with a towel, making sure Lalu didn't see it. No doubt the little girl noticed that she didn't eat with them, but if she suspected something was awry with Jaina, she didn't say anything.

She listened to the father and daughter's discussion, but her thoughts were elsewhere. So far Mara's reports hadn't been all that promising. She had managed to gradually worm her way into the upper echelons of Hapan society, but Ducha Entora Vaelor's whereabouts remained unknown. Come to think of it, the news from the Cluster lately hadn't been good at all. For one, the new Hapan Queen had been reported dead at the hands of a Sith assassin, of all people. The bastard even destroyed the Queen's Tiara! Just thinking of all those rainbow gems shattering was enough to get Jaina's blood boiling...

"Daddy, are we ever going home?"

Lalu's question pulled Jaina from her musings. She glanced from the little girl to Aramis, wondering what he would say. Lalu hadn't asked about returning to Hapes in a while, but it was only a matter of time. They never did give her a satisfying answer, after all.

Her father hesitated to answer. Lalu made her pitch: "They say the Queen Mother is dead. There's going to be a new Queen. Maybe she'll be good, and give everyone equality."

Jaina tried to hide her wince. Mara's intel about Aurellia had been... grim. Yet another misandrist touting a return to tradition, she had almost certainly orchestrated her predecessor's death. Now she was using a pirate fleet, of all fucking things, to take control of the empty throne of Hapes. Jaina could call her many things, but she couldn't call Aurellia stupid. After the fall of the Core, the Alliance was at its weakest point. Their border states were ripe for the picking. The Hapes Cluster was lucky they weren't being invaded by a faction with even poorer intentions, and no would-be Queen Mother at the forefront.

"Is that so?" Aramis broke his lengthy pause, speaking in a soft, gentle voice. "I don't believe Queen Nimaa'ri Daaray is really dead."

Jaina raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"They found her body," Lalu added, peering at him incredulously. "How can she still be alive?"

Aramis reached across the table, picking up the porcelain teapot. "The Queen of Naboo has her handmaidens..." Steam rose from her cup as he poured the freshly brewed tea. "And it is said that the King of Alderaan employs shapeshifters as his bodyguards..." He poured himself a cup. "Hapan society is far more cutthroat than either of those worlds. Why wouldn't the Ereneda have decoys who look just like her, ready to die in her place?"

Huh. Wait, what?

"I don't know." Lalu's feet fidgeted underneath the table. "Wouldn't it be dishonorable?"

"Hapan nobles don't really have honor, my dear. They only pretend to." He set the teapot down. "How many spoonfuls of sugar do you want?"

 

[Jaina Grayson]

"Three, please," Lalu answered.

"But that doesn't make any sense," Jaina said. "Why hasn't Nimaa'ri come out and let everyone know she's not dead? Why let someone else take the throne?"

"I'm not sure," Aramis replied. "Perhaps she wants to know what her enemies are up to."

"And the only way to do that is to let them play their hand? Lose everything for the sake of knowledge?"

"While she remains safely in hiding." Aramis continued to prepare his daughter's tea exactly the way she liked it, his movements casual and unhurried. "If I'm right, and she's still alive somewhere, she must have a reason for staying hidden."

"Playing the waiting game while her own people are being killed?" Jaina scoffed. Leaders who cowered away from danger disgusted her. They weren't worthy of the power they held. Then again... maybe Nimaa'ri knew she was outmatched. With the GA crumbling and divided loyalties in the Cluster, the odds weren't in her favor. She didn't have a pirate fleet to back her, either.

He shrugged. "Maybe it's a trap. Let Aurellia think she has everything she wants, then..." He ran a hand across his throat. "Close the noose.

"But to answer your question, Lalu..." He heaved a weary sigh. "No, we won't be returning to Hapes any time soon. In fact, perhaps it would be best for you to consider this your new home now."

Lalu's lower lip began to quiver. "But I want to see Mama!" she exclaimed.

"There, now," Jaina laid a hand on her shoulder. "We, uh, still don't know where your mother is."

"It's too dangerous to go home," Aramis said sadly. "I'm sorry, Lalu. I wish things were different."

 

[Jaina Grayson]

After lunch, Jaina went outside on the deck. It was early autumn on Necropolis, and up in the mountains there was already a chill in the air. She was looking out at the landscape, deep in thought, when Aramis walked up behind her.

"You're still in your Warrior Form," he remarked.

She glanced down at herself. Normally she would've shifted to her Civilian Form already, but today she didn't feel anything like the soft, lovely, kind woman that Form represented. "Sometimes I feel like this is the real me," she murmured. "Or the closest to the real me as it gets. Hard, rough, and brutal. Despite my good intentions..."

He moved to stand beside her, his fingertips tracing slow patterns on her upper arm. "Is this about Lalu? I've been talking to her about her mother. She may not understand now, but she will when she's older."

"Understand what?" Jaina asked, turning to face him. "That her parents are never getting back together? That it will be years before she gets to go back to Hapes? That her mom is a monster, and I'm probably going to have to kill her - and that you're okay with that?"

Aramis sighed and pursed his lips. "She has to find out eventually. We can't keep her innocent forever." The admission sounded bitter, but at least he wasn't in denial. "I do wish things were better. But we've got to make the best of what we have."

He leaned in to kiss her. She responded passionately, engulfing him in a strong-armed embrace. "Aw, Aramis," she moaned. "I love you."

"And I adore you." He smiled up at her. "Speaking of which..."

Jaina watched as he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small black velvet box. He'd given her gifts before; over the past year he had become something of an artisan, earning his keep by producing jewelry and, on occasion, weapons. "Is it another necklace?" she asked. "Or, ooh - earrings?"

"Not quite," Aramis said, carefully lifting the lid. "I know it's not your custom here on Necropolis, but on Hapes, this is how we propose."

Inside the box was an engagement ring. The center stone was a rainbow gem flanked by two slightly smaller diamonds. Jaina's eyes nearly popped out of her head at the sight of it, and his words provoked a euphoric squeal. "But... You're still married!" she blurted. "It's too fast... Isn't it?"

"An engagement is more of a promise to marry, darling," he assured her. "Besides, if Hapan law didn't forbid a man from divorcing his wife, I would be free already. I won't let the unfairness of society stop me from pursuing happiness. So, Jaina Grayson... Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" Jaina hopped up and down, the deck rattling with every impact of her booted feet. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!"

He removed the ring from the box and, as Jaina presented her left hand, he slipped the ring onto her finger.

 

[Mara Aurelai]

Harterra, Hapes Cluster
Meanwhile...​

Mara gazed out at the sunlit gardens of Moonmist Palace, the same noble estate she had first visited a year ago. House Khal had been letting her stay with them for the past few days. Thanks to a bit of charisma and pheromones, she had become a good friend of the family.

But it wasn't enough. After a year of attending parties and hobnobbing with the elites of Hapan society, she still had not found the elusive Entora Vaelor. What's more, the political situation in the Cluster had worsened. Queen Nimaa'ri had been declared dead, and the new Queen Aurellia was already stripping away the hard-won rights of Hapan males.

"Mara, will you be having dinner with us?"

Mara turned around, coming face to face with Arlessa Khal. The Hapan lady was impeccably dressed (as always) in a silver gown and pearl jewelry. Over the past year, the two women had grown quite close. Arlessa was more fond of Mara than the reverse, but Mara made sure to cultivate their friendship, if only for its value to her as a source of information and clout.

"Yes, I will be here," Mara replied, stepping away from the window. "How is your mother?"

Though the family had endeavored to keep the diagnosis under wraps, their fearsome matriarch was suffering from dementia. It hadn't been just the effects of Mara's pheromones that got her spilling secrets last year. "Better than yesterday," Arlessa replied. She pursed her lips together in a tight line and leaned forward, lowering her voice to a more confidential volume. "You know, I think I would have put her out of her misery already, if it didn't please me so much to see her suffer."

Ah. Family relations in the Khal household, Mara had quickly learned, were less than cordial. Arlessa harbored a deep resentment for her mother, calling her cruel and controlling. Secciah's venom and lust for power had been transmitted to her children, who were a bunch of nasty, conniving, bitter creatures. Their evil exploits had decimated their numbers: Lenore, the eldest, had died at the hands of her husband after years of abusing him, while Mirella had been arrested by the Jedi for dabbling in the Dark Side. Only Arlessa, the youngest, remained unscathed - and despite the enmity between them, she was still very much under their mother's thumb.

Arlessa was an interesting woman. Though she was a Sibsi Balzarg, she had refused to hand over her only son to serve as breeding stock, instead sending him to the Jedi Order. Such a decision could not have been without consequences, if not from the Sibsi then certainly from Secciah, who despised the Jedi... But she didn't talk about it as anything other than a practical choice. "I determined that my Ben would better serve Hapes as a Jedi," she claimed.

"Arlessa, if I may ask... What will you do after your mother's illness runs its course?" Mara inquired. While she kept her own expression neutral, she watched Arlessa's face carefully, looking for tells that would indicate her true feelings beneath the mask of cultured nobility...

 

[Mara Aurelai]

Arlessa shrugged. "I will become the next Ducha. My sister Mirella can't claim the title from Azrael Asylum."

"What I meant to say was," Mara gently pressed the subject, "what would you like to do? That is, what do you want?"

This gave Arlessa pause. "There is a house by the beach," she said. For a moment her gaze seemed distant, thoughtful. "Here on Harterra. It's small and private, nothing so extravagant as this palace. I should like to retire there someday, to work on my inventions." She ended her moment of reverie with a shake of her head, then asked, "You are the last of your House. Do you plan to take the Duchy of Stalsinek for yourself?"

"Oh, I technically already have," Mara answered with a demure smile. "I'm eager to prove my devotion to the new Ereneda."

Over the past year she had built up her backstory, painting a portrait of a naive but well-intentioned ingenue, the sole survivor of a disgraced clan. The real Mara Aurelai had been a vapid college student who sold out her family to save her own skin. She was killed in an accident during the Crisis, but her body was never positively identified - a convenient detail which made her a perfect candidate for the android's mission. She had stepped into Mara Aurelai's gilded slippers with ease.

"Then congratulations are in order," Arlessa said. "You deserve an ascent fitting of a Ducha."

"Oh no, I better not," Mara protested, batting her lashes. "I wouldn't want to look like I'm trying to take attention off the Queen Mother, especially when her birthday is coming up so soon."

"Very well, you may do as you wish." Arlessa seemed amused. "Come now, let us go to dinner. I have a surprise planned for our guests this evening..."

 

[Mara Aurelai]

Dinners were usually held in the dining room, which was about as grand as the rest of the house. The walls were painted white with gilded patterns, and the table, carved from imported Alderaanian rainbow wood, was big enough to seat more than thirty people.

Most of the household was already seated when Arlessa and Mara arrived. Secciah still occupied the head of the table, with Arlessa's husband Cedrin a couple of seats down. Cedrin was a quiet man with a scarred face. He drank too much.

No sooner had Mara sat down in one of the plush dining chairs, a young male servant appeared carrying a tray full of drinks. "I took the liberty of ordering your usual liquor," Arlessa said, smiling as the waiter laid the crystal glass before her guest. It contained pink champagne, Mara's signature drink.

"Why, thank you," Mara said. She raised the champagne flute to her lips and took a sip.

WARNING - TOXIN DETECTED

Poison! Her expression showed no change even as internal alarms blared. Who would want to poison her, and why?

Moreover, the poison wouldn't work on her. She could pretend it had, perhaps even fake her own death if need be. The question was, was it necessary?

She had a few minutes before the toxin was supposed to take effect. If she used the time wisely, perhaps she could pinpoint who was responsible and determine what she should do.

 

[Mara Aurelai]

Act natural.

She lowered the glass and turned to the server. "I'll have a fruit bowl, Shi-Shok style. Make sure to include shuura in it."

"Of course, my lady."

"She is a Ducha now," Secciah said suddenly, her tone sharp. "You must address her as 'Your Grace'."

The waiter cast a nervous glance between the two women. "Y-Your Grace," he sputtered, bowing low before heading for the kitchens.

Secciah's aged eyes followed him until he disappeared from view. "I don't know why we don't replace all our servants with droids. They'd certainly be more efficient. Though not nearly as pretty to look at."

"How did you know I've become a Ducha?" Mara asked her.

"A little bird told me," Secciah purred, then snarled. "Do you think I don't know every word uttered in my own house? If you so much as moan in your sleep, I'll hear it. I know everything."

"I'm sure you do." Mara leaned toward Arlessa. "So, what's the surprise?"

"Well, we are supposed to have another guest with us tonight," Arlessa replied. "My sister-in-law is in town. After the murder of Queen Kha'la, she went into hiding. But now that we have a true Queen Mother on the throne again, she has returned to reclaim her duchy."

"How wonderful. What is her duchy?"

"Arabanth."

Mara, of course, kept her cool. But internally she was screaming. After an entire year of fruitless searching, Entora Vaelor was coming to dinner. Why not serve her up on a silver platter while you're at it?

"Men and their whiskey," Secciah screeched at her son-in-law. "How can you drink that swill? It tastes like burning piss."

Cedrin said nothing, keeping his gaze lowered. "That's enough, Mother," Arlessa said, arranging her napkin on her lap. "Have you taken your medication today?"

Secciah grumbled something under her breath. Cedrin drained his glass of whiskey, then silently gestured to the waiter to fill it again. Mara glanced at her champagne. It was still mostly full, but the poison - a variant unique to the Hapes Cluster - was exceptionally potent. Even one sip should've been enough to kill her already.

She glanced around the room, discreetly searching the faces of those present. Cedrin barely knew her and would gain nothing from her death. Arlessa was her friend, and apart from her having been the one to order the champagne, there was little reason to suspect her. Secciah was a mad old woman - but she was also the most powerful person in the room. She could've ordered one of her servants to poison the drink. But what would be her motive? Bitterness, envy, some unknown plot... or perhaps pure insanity?

Just then, Mara heard high-heeled footsteps approaching.

 

[Mara Aurelai]

All heads turned as Entora Vaelor entered the room. The Ducha of Arabanth was a tall, pale figure wrapped in a white fur coat. Only her head was visible, with its sharp cheekbones and square jaw framed by short black hair.

"Entora," Arlessa greeted the other woman in a friendly tone. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"Your Grace," Entora said, bowing her head slightly. Her piercing blue eyes, at once frigid and molten, focused on Mara with cool amusement. "And you must be the new Ducha of Stalsinek. Congratulations."

"Pleased to meet you," Mara replied politely, putting on an innocent smile.

"Have a seat," Arlessa said. "I'll have the servants fetch you some wine. Are you hungry?"

"Famished." Entora sat in the chair next to Arlessa, directly across from Mara. She removed her coat, revealing a pink satin gown underneath. Its elegance couldn't hide how disturbingly thin she was, her bones visible beneath paper-thin skin.

"Where have you been all this time, Your Grace?" Mara asked.

Entora's eyes flashed toward her. "I was imprisoned in the Well by Nimaa'ri. Queen Mother Aurellia pardoned me."

"Oh, how terrible." Mara feigned sympathy quite convincingly. "I assume she restored your title as well?"

"Of course." Entora seemed annoyed by the questions, turning to the waiter who had returned from the kitchen. "I want a bantha steak, medium-rare, with a side of mashed potatoes." After a pause, she smirked up at him. "And I want you to come to my quarters tonight."

The waiter blinked in shock. Arlessa frowned, then tried to play it off as a joke. "If you were in need of another servant, I would have happily offered you one of ours."

"I want this one," Entora said, turning to her. "Don't worry. I'll return him to you only lightly used."

"It isn't that I care about him specifically, it's the principle of the thing," Arlessa argued. "You may be our guest, but that doesn't give you the right to make such demands of a fellow Ducha."

"Let her have him," Secciah interrupted. "You have good taste, Arabanth."

Arlessa pursed her lips together. Perhaps she had forgotten for a moment that she was not yet the Ducha of Harterra. The reminder clearly stung, but she made no further protest. Her mother's word was law.

Thoroughly disgusted with the women, Mara met the eyes of the waiter. His face had gone white and his expression was stricken. For a moment there was anger in his gaze, but the fire sputtered out as quickly as it sparked. There was no point in fighting.

Entora Vaelor won't live to see tomorrow, Mara decided then and there. She would make sure of it.

 

[Mara Aurelai]

It would be very easy to kill Entora now that they were under the same roof. Alas, she couldn't very well dispatch her in the middle of dinner. She would have to wait until the opportune time presented itself.

Moreover, she had yet to solve the mystery of the poisoned champagne. As their food was served and everyone began eating, Mara decided to finish the glass. She did quite enjoy the pink-tinted bubbly.

After dinner, she excused herself - but rather than retiring to her room, she went in search of the unfortunate waiter. She managed to catch him on his way out of the kitchens.

"You there," she whispered from a shadowy alcove, catching his attention. "Don't go to the Ducha of Arabanth's room."

He shook his head. "If I don't do as she says, I could lose my job. Or worse."

"Never mind that." She reached for his hand and pressed a wad of credits into his palm. "Get on the next flight out of here. Go to the town of Summerhaven, on the planet Necropolis, and ask for Nomi Dawnstrider."

Wide-eyed, the man nodded.

"One more thing," she said. "The pink champagne you served me at dinner. Did you know there was poison in it?"

He looked alarmed. "N-No, I didn't. Y-Your Grace..."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Both of them turned their heads at the sound of another voice. Standing at the end of the hallway was a hunched figure. As she approached them, a shaft of moonlight revealed the aged face of Secciah Khal. Her violet eyes glittered with malicious glee.

"Only a fool would rely on a man to get the job done. I put the poison in your glass myself."

 

[Mara Aurelai]

Mara turned to the servant. "Go now," she whispered. After he had left, she faced Secciah alone. "Why did you try to poison me?"

Secciah snorted. "I wanted to know what you are, Mara of House Aurelai. And you've confirmed my suspicions about you. It isn’t just that you drank enough poison to kill ten people without so much as choking. Those weapons-grade pheromones, the Force Dead aura, your selfless care for innocents... You're not some long-lost Ducha. You're a biotic android designed by House Li-Ves, planted here for some purpose.”

For once, Mara didn't try to hide her shock. "How do you know all that?" she asked incredulously.

"I too am not as I seem.” Secciah smirked. “Watch.”

With that, Secciah began to change form. Her flesh wriggled and warped, reshaping and recoloring into the visage of a complete stranger. In place of the elderly Ducha was a beautiful young woman with long black hair and dark brown eyes. She looked human, and yet alien at the same time.

"My name is Syreeta Ming," she said. "I'm a Shi'ido. I'm with the rebels."

 

[Mara Aurelai]

That was about the last answer Mara expected. She wasn't sure whether to be annoyed at having been so thoroughly caught off guard, or impressed by this strange new twist in the plot. "Which rebel group?" she asked, her tone slightly haughty. She wasn't ready to drop the Hapan noblewoman act just yet. "The Crimson Veil? They're a bunch of terrorists."

"They call themselves the Veythari now. It means 'those who rise'." Syreeta smirked again. It looked much sweeter on her face than on Secciah's withered visage, though no less deadly. "General Kalen made a deal with my Mistress. We have killed and replaced two Duchas loyal to Queen Aurellia with our own operatives. While the Duchas appear to pay lip service to the Chume, their worlds become hidden bases for the rebels to undermine the Consortium from within."

By the Force! It sounded crazy. Perhaps it was. "And why exactly are you telling me all this?" Mara asked. "How do you know I won't betray you?"

Syreeta scoffed. "No android produced by House Li-Ves could possibly support the tyranny of the Consortium."

"I may have been designed by House Li-Ves, but I don't take orders from Lady Li-Ves," Mara countered. "Although you are right about me not supporting the Consortium. That's not the reason why I'm here, though."

"And why are you here, 'Your Grace'?" Syreeta asked, still smiling.

Mara resisted the strangely human urge to shudder. "To kill Entora Vaelor."

"Then you are an assassin?" Syreeta raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."

Mara clenched her hands into fists at her sides. "Even for a Ducha, she's evil. I'd be doing the galaxy a favor."

"No doubt." Syreeta tapped her chin. "Perhaps you and I can help each other. I assume you need access to Entora's room in order to finish her off?"

Mara had planned on switching to her Serpent Form and slithering in via an air vent. But she wouldn't say no to simply walking through the door. "Are you offering to help me get inside?" she asked.

Syreeta shifted back into the shape of Secciah Khal. "Why not? After all, this is my house." She grinned cruelly. "I'll unlock the door myself."

 

[Mara Aurelai]

Entora Vaelor's quarters were among the most luxurious in Moonmist Palace, consisting of a two-story suite more akin to an apartment (or even a small house). A monument to the excesses of the Hapan elite, it had two entrances, one on each floor it occupied, and no less than three attached 'freshers.

What a waste of space, Mara thought as she approached the main floor entrance. For the first time since her arrival in the Cluster, she had changed out of her standard Civilian Form and into the stealth-driven Serpent mode. Unlike Jaina's silver-blonde Serpent, Mara's was a masked figure who looked to be sculpted from mud and gold.

Secciah - or rather Syreeta - had already unlocked the door. It opened easily, letting Mara slip inside without incident.

The interior of the suite was just as lavish as one would expect. A huge four-poster bed hung with a dreamsilk canopy dominated the center of the room, which also featured plush armchairs, an antique wooden computer desk, a top-of-the-line holo projector, a table and chairs, and a genuine fireplace carved from pure white marble.

The bed, however, was empty. Mara crept around silently, searching the room thoroughly before she ascended the steps leading to the second level. It was much like the first, with the addition of two 'fresher units and a walk-in closet. Again, she found the bed empty, but her sensors registered a heat signature coming from the closet...

 

[Mara Aurelai]

Suddenly Entora burst from the closet, lunging at Mara. Though clad in only a pink satin nightgown, she wielded a golden dagger with a warrior's grace, striking at the intruder in her quarters with Force-enhanced speed. Mara moved just as quickly, dodging the blow.

Entora was still on the offensive. She slashed at Mara again with her dagger, managing to draw a line of pink glowing blood from the android's arm. Mara reshaped her other arm into a blade and thrust it at Entora's chest. The Ducha narrowly escaped being impaled, her expression revealing her shock and disbelief at what she had just witnessed. "What are you?!" she cried.

"Your death, monster," Mara replied, attacking her again in a flurry of rapid slashes and stabs. Entora parried or evaded every strike, putting up quite the fight. Despite Mara's efforts to avoid making too much noise, the furniture suffered several casualties. Chairs were knocked over; antique books were launched like projectiles; an ornate glass lamp was used as a makeshift bludgeon, shattering on impact and scattering shards of broken glass across the carpet. The dreamsilk canopy hung in tattered shreds and the sheets bore telltale puncture wounds. Despite all that, none of the guards or servants ever came to investigate the ruckus, whether because Secciah had ordered them to stay away or because they were used to the cutthroat antics of the Hapan nobility and knew better than to try and intervene.

At last, the duel seemed to come to a standstill. Entora was covered in cuts and bruises which oozed red blood. Mara was in a similar condition, but neither the Ducha nor the android assassin showed any sign of slowing down. Frankly, Mara was stunned that Entora had lasted this long

"Who sent you?" Entora demanded, holding her knife at the ready. "Nimaa'ri loyalists? The Crimson Veil?"

Mara did not answer. But the Force, ever the servant of its Users, did. Entora's pale blue eyes widened as she was granted swift and sudden clarity. "Aramis!" she hissed, her tone carrying more vitriol than when she had spoken the names of her other enemies. "So he is alive. And he has my daughter with him too. Where has he taken them?"

"You'll never touch them," Mara snarled. She raised her blade arm to deal a killing blow...