Star Wars: The Last Qymaili | ✔

2 | Secret Love

Song: "That Girl With the Staff" from The Force Awakens OST

Shia baij Audrana was a tall half-human with soft skin and round pupils, strangely beautiful in her foreignity. When she spotted Ronderu at the door, she gasped and hurried over. "My lady! Why did no one provide you an escort?"

"There weren't enough people to spare," she replied coolly. "It's fine, Shia." She leaned on the medic's shoulder as they went back to a private room where Shia could fix her roggwart wound before it was infected.

"What happened?" the medic asked.

"Roggwart. It'll be fine. I just ruined my dress along with it." As Ronderu endured the sting from the oils, she sighed. "Were you nervous at your coming-of-age?"

Shia giggled gently as a stiff brown curl fell over her shoulder. "Nervous? Absolutely. Do you need reassurance?"

"I'm not scared of anything but making a fool of myself," Ronderu said. "I already have to deal with that page who wounded me to begin with."

"You won't make a fool of yourself," she said stoutly, taking linens that had been soaked in herbs and wrapping them around Ronderu's bare torso. "And neither will Qymaen."

She pressed her lips together as his name brought sweet feelings to her bones. Her mind slipped into daydream-they'd run somewhere safe where she wouldn't be harmed by the traditionalists after the war, where they could live together and be safe. To be impure was bad enough; to be impure and married to a man they considered of the gods....she could list off ten ways they would kill her for it, and none of them were quick or painless.

But their love, always a secret in the moments when she cherished the forbidden warmth of his mouth against hers, was priceless. It was worth every instant of every moment they were together. When the war was over, they would explore the galaxy, leaving the dogma of the traditionalists behind.

She jumped out of her thoughts when Shia chuckled. "Your face when you're thinking is so cute, my lady."

"I'm not cute," she muttered.

She took a roll of dry linens and wrapped them around the wet cloth. "I'm going to tend to the other patients. Stay here a few hours and I'll replace the bandages."

"Very well."

She turned to the wall. A few more hours, and her waiting would be over.

✺✺✺

Qymaen dropped his small ship, nicknamed the Martyr for his late father, at the Advar spaceport. Smoothing his robes, he exited the ship, immediately looking for Ronderu-but only soldiers flanked the area. At least she had thought to station the area so he wouldn't get crowded by the locals.

His face dropped. Isn't she waiting for me?

Perhaps she's waiting for me to find her.

He stopped where soldiers guarded an enormous roggwart, its great legs and arms chained to the tree trunks. It had calmed down by now, regarding its captors with sleepy eyes and low rumbles of protest. Qymaen reached out to touch its flat nose. "I presume she captured you," he said. "You will be her keep."

The roggwart glared at him but made no reply, and Qymaen smiled. "What's she calling you?"

"We've been calling it Gor," one of the young pages said. "And I was the one who provoked it to injure her, so-"

He tilted his head. "I apologize?"

"Your Grace," the page stammered, "forgive me. But I was scared, so I acted rashly and provoked it. She was clawed in the back, and she's been in the medical bay for a couple hours now."