Cry, Part 3
“Lady Durron?” The voice was cool, hard. Jaina was used to that.
She looked up over Kyp’s latest letter. He had been gone when she woke up, even after their bittersweet reunion. Last night he had told her he loved her, and she had believed him. Never trust a Dark sider, she berated herself silently.
“Durron.” The woman’s voice became sharp, and Jaina pulled her mind back to the present. Before her stood Sanar Klis, the Imperial slave the Emperor had assigned to the Durron quarters.
“Yes, Sanar?”
“Will you be eating here, this morning?” Twin fires lit in Sanar’s eyes, and Jaina looked down. She knew exactly how Sanar felt.
“I’m not really hungry,” Jaina said quietly, “but thank you for asking.”
Sanar turned without a word and stomped toward the door. Before she left, however, she paused and said, “You’re going to become ill, if you continue like this. You can’t do anything if you’re dead.”
Jaina’s eyes flashed. “I can’t do anything now; why bother? I don’t see you storming into the Emperor’s chamber, threatening to cut off his head if he doesn’t free you.”
Sanar appeared to think for a moment before she closed the door and walked back to the side of Jaina’s bed. “Get up,” she ordered, steel in her eyes. Jaina blinked, then swung her feet out from under the blanket, and down to the carpeted floor. She and Sanar would have come eye-to-eye, once, but now Jaina felt like a small child in front of her mother. She was painfully aware of her thinness.
The slave grasped Jaina by both shoulders and shook her. “Stop with your self-pity,” the older woman growled. “No one cares unless you make them.”
“Maybe I don’t care.”
“Well, that’s your mistake - when you don’t care, you die.”
Jaina brushed her hair out of her face. The gesture was weary. “So?”
“You can’t do anything for your husband if you’re dead.”
The statement struck Jaina as hilarious. “My husband? My husband?” She snorted. “Kyp’s not my husband anymore; he’s not the man I married. He’s a stranger. Eventually Palpatine will make him kill me, and then it won’t matter if I eat.”
Sanar grabbed Jaina by the chin. “Look at me,” the slave hissed. “No one is completely evil, nor completely good.”
Jaina slapped Sanar’s hand away. “Really? Well, then, I’ll just take a few happy pills, eat a buffet, and wait for Kyp to be normal again.” She burrowed back into her bed, pillow over her head.
She couldn’t, however, block out Sanar’s next words. “What would you do to bring Kyp back?”
Jaina shot up, eyes wide. “You know something? Tell me!” she begged, seeing Sanar’s hard expression.
“Would you do anything?” Sanar demanded, her lip curling as she realized she had sufficiently caught the girl’s attention.
Affirmation was on the tip of her tongue before Jaina paused and scrutinized Sanar. “What do you mean by anything?” she asked warily.
Sanar’s face closed. “Obviously not.”
Jaina panicked and tried to stop the woman from leaving, but Sanar was too far away. “I’ll bring your food in, Lady Durron; you may not want to live, but your baby must.” Sanar’s head turned, just a little, to smirk at Jaina’s stunned expression. “Oh? Didn’t you know? Lord Durron’ heir was created last night.”
When the door shut behind her, Sanar muttered, “Force save us, but time’s getting short.”
:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:
I didn’t tell Kyp I was pregnant; I didn’t want my child to be trained by Palpatine or even Kyp. The collar that the Empire had issued me dampened my Force presence, and Kyp was none the wiser. By the time I showed, Kyp was gone for months at a time. Sanar was the only one there during my daughter’s birth.
I named her Mikela, which means “light in the darkness”. Sanar looked at me strangely when I named my daughter thus, and she told me that in her language, it meant “war’s tragedy”. Sometimes I wonder which definition better suited my daughter.
Sanar refused to speak further on stopping Kyp, even when I begged. “You hesitated,” she retorted each time. “Come to me when you won’t balk, even for a split second. When you’d do anything, you’ll be willing to listen to me.”
A thousand times I tried to force myself to say “Anything”, but every time I looked into my daughter’s eyes and all assurances disappeared.
Anything - that could mean turning, myself, couldn’t it? Even worse, though, it could mean something that would hurt my daughter.
:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:
Kyp was home that night, and Jaina had had only a minute’s notice. Mikela, who was nearing her second birthday, was with Sanar, as she always was when Kyp was nearby. No one would question the toddler’s presence; Sanar was a slave, and Sanar and Jaina were alike enough in looks to be sisters.
“You’re not eating again,” Lord Durron remarked, eyes on his wife.
She was eating, actually; she couldn’t let Mikela down, and when Jaina was close to giving up, Sanar would force the food down. Jaina wondered at that, but had come to the uncertain conclusion that Sanar was besotted with Mikela, who was almost as much her daughter as Jaina’s. And Mikela needed her mother.
It was strain, not malnutrition, that made Jaina so thin. Her illness, too, was beginning to return, but she didn’t tell Kyp that. Palpatine would just make her medical care another debt. Jaina wasn’t going to be Kyp’s excuse for turning a little more - again.
“I’m alright, just a little tired,” Jaina replied, eyes flitting up to Kyp’s for a moment.
He frowned and caught her hand. “Too little sleep doesn’t make you look like a wraith.”
She snatched her hand back, eyes gleaming unnaturally. “Well, what did you expect, dragging me into this?” she demanded. Without warning, tears spilled down her cheeks, and she turned her back to him, trying to hide them. “I told you I’d rather die than be in Imperial hands.”
“You’re safe, aren’t you?” he retorted angrily. “You have everything you could possibly want - ”
She rounded on him, uncaring of her tear-streaked face. “I want you, Kyp Durron, but I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Kyp’s eyes moved nervously over her. “I love you,” he said finally, harshly.
“I love you, too, more than you know.” Jaina sniffed and rubbed her eyes, forcing the tears to the side. “But maybe,” she finished, “I’m getting tired of sharing you with Palpatine.”
:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:
That night was the first - and last - time Kyp ever struck me. Although he was immediately contrite, I knew it had come to an end. Despite his pleas for forgiveness and vows of love, I knew I would never tell him about Mikela. Not even the desperate kisses and the night’s passion, which followed what he thought was my acceptance of his apology, could change my mind.
I knew how to answer Sanar’s question, now:
Anything.
---------------