Their vagueness about where they came from. The violent deaths of Nan’s parents. The carbon scoring on the plates of their ship. The blue streaks in Nan’s hair.

He whispered, “They’re Nihil.”

Chapter Sixteen

A luxury hotel on Coruscant made the “luxury” of other planets look like rags and ashes. In the Alisandre Hotel, rooms were situated at the highest levels of the highest buildings, complete with personal landing decks, bath pools, and servitor droids dispensing the finest wines, meals, and desserts. Affie, who spent the majority of her days in her tiny, bare-bones bunk on the Vessel, spent a solid five minutes running her hands over the silky sheets of her utterly enormous bed.

“The beds are required to be this size,” pointed out Scover as the servitor droids put away her things. “Although they are extremely large by the standards of most humanoid species, nothing smaller than this would feel luxurious to a Gigoran, or even be sufficient for a Trodatome.”

Affie flopped back into a nest of pillows, relishing the unaccustomed softness. “Okay, you’re not impressed. So why bother staying in a place like this at all?” Scover’s home was nice but hardly grandiose, and she was always careful with money.

“Important industrialists and politicians stay in such hotels, particularly here in the Federal District,” Scover replied. “These may be our future clients. I will be able to set up multiple meetings in the club levels below.”

“Leave it to you to find the perfect excuse.”

It wasn’t an excuse—it was Scover’s real reason, as Affie knew—but it sounded enough like teasing that it made Scover smile and ruffle her foster daughter’s hair.

Convinced of Affie’s contentment, Scover thought little of leaving an hour later to begin working on some of those meetings. Affie lay still in the balcony’s antigravity hammock for several minutes afterward, pretending to watch the clouds drifting by just above eye level. Almost idly, she reached out with one hand and swatted the control that would put all the servitor droids into dormant mode.

The moment their mesh eyes went dark, she jumped up. Heart thumping, she dashed across the suite to the wardrobe where Scover’s things were stored.

I may be the worst daughter ever, Affie thought as she picked up one of Scover’s infopads. I ought to trust her. I shouldn’t poke around in her stuff. The entire time she was thinking this, her fingers were deftly typing in one of the top-level passcodes, one Scover had shared without a second thought.