Their two planets had been at odds for so long that no cooperation was seen as possible, and so none was sought.

How long had it been since anyone had even tried? Sometimes it felt as though Eiram defined itself not by its own merits but simply as those who stood against E’ronoh. She was beginning to suspect E’ronoh had done the same thing in reverse. Did anyone even truly recall the reasons for all this hate? Were those reasons still valid in the present day?

I’ll ask Dima, Thandeka thought before remembering that she would almost certainly never see her wife again.

“Besides, why wouldn’t we be in this position?” Cassel said. “These criminals—they weren’t a part of any trade talks between Eiram and E’ronoh, I’m sure—”

“No. But if we’d made trade deals with the Republic before, the scum of the galaxy wouldn’t be trying to edge their way in now. And the main reason we’ve never imagined dealing with the Republic is because we’ve never even learned to deal with each other.” For so long, they’d been proud of their independence. But at what point did pride become mere stubbornness? At what point did independence become willful ignorance?

Wherever that point was, Thandeka suspected both their planets had passed it a long time before.

Cassel’s face fell, but he tried to smile for her. He seemed to be a kind man. “At least our kidnappers aren’t having any fun, either. To judge by the big furry fellow’s scowl, he’s having nearly as bad a day as we are.”

Thandeka simply smiled back. It was kinder than mentioning that the angrier their captors became, the more likely they were to wind up dead.

Chapter Seventeen

What do they do with a leftover Padawan?

Reath had been pondering this question since a few hours after he’d learned of Master Jora’s death, as soon as he’d recovered from the extreme shock. It stood to reason that he’d be chosen by another master eventually, but when and how?

(It was a measure of the peace and prosperity of the Republic that Reath had never known an apprentice in the same situation.)

When he’d been summoned to another meeting of the Council, he’d assumed that it was about the Nihil he had identified on the Amaxine station. Reath was working hard to think of them that way, as the Nihil, instead of Nan and Hague. Ferocious warriors instead of refugees. Resetting his thinking, excising the kindness he’d felt toward them, might help him handle some of the intense shame he felt for betraying knowledge to an enemy—to the enemy who had killed Master Jora, no less. They had made a fool of him once but never would again.