Aryn placed Master Zallow’s blade at Eleena’s neck.

Raw emotion surged out of Malgus, a gust of rage.

“I promise you I will do it,” Aryn said.

Malgus’s free hand clenched into a fist. “If you have harmed her permanently, I will see that you suffer. I promise you that.”

Aryn understood less and less about Malgus with each word he spoke. Still, she maintained her bluff. “Give the order, Malgus!”

Malgus glared at her, snarled, spoke into his comlink. “Jard, belay my previous order. The drop ship is to be allowed to leave the system.”

“My lord?”

“Do it, Jard!”

“Yes, my lord.”

Malgus walked toward Aryn, the slow movements of a hunter that smelled prey.

“And now, Jedi? You cannot leave here.”

“I don’t want to leave, Malgus.”

His eyes smiled. “No. You want to kill me. Need to, yes? Because of your master?”

The feelings the words mined out of the dark parts of her soul felt uncomfortably close to the rage flowing from Malgus. A day earlier and her feelings might have mirrored his. That they didn’t she owed to Eleena.

And Zeerid.

And Master Zallow.

“I wanted to hurt you, Sith. Hurt you by hurting her. But I won’t add to her pain. She suffers enough already.”

Malgus stopped in his advance. His eyes went to the Twi’lek, and to her surprise, Aryn felt something akin to pity radiate from him, just a flash, quickly washed away by hate.

“Enough words,” he said, returning his gaze to Aryn. “Make your attempt, Aryn Leneer. I am here.”

He discarded his cape, stood up straight, and saluted her with his lightsaber.

She hefted her lightsaber, Master Zallow’s lightsaber, felt the weight of both in her hands. She fell into the lines of the Force, at peace, calm.

Still heart. Still mind.

She had trained in dual lightsaber combat when she had been a Padawan, but she rarely fought with two blades in a genuine combat situation. She would now, here, today. She thought it fitting that she do so.

She did not wait for Malgus. She bounded across the hangar, her speed augmented by the Force, the lines of her blades leaving a blur of light in their wake. Malgus held his ground, blade ready.

She stabbed low with her primary blade, high with her secondary. Malgus leapt over both, flipped, landed behind her, and crosscut for her neck.

She ducked under it while spinning into a reverse leg sweep that caught his feet and tripped him. When he hit the ground, she rose, turned, raised both blades, and drove them down in a parallel overhand slash. Malgus somersaulted backward, and Aryn’s blades cut gashes in the floor of the hangar. Sparks flew.