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┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒ chapter six: the right people ┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚
The ship was not just big. No, the training grounds in the Temple were big, the trees in the jungles of Kashyyyk were big — this starship was enormous. Elysar hadn't been on many yachts, in the sense that she hadn't even seen one in person, but was pretty sure that the flying vessel she was currently aboard of was exactly that. It took Elysar more than an hour to inspect the two levels with every luxurious chamber, every gambling lounge and the greenhouse filled with most beautiful plants — Lady Dooku's yacht was glimmering with striking opulence, the kind of which Elysar had never seen before.
She talked with the crew, checked the perimeter for all potential exit routes and hiding places in case of an emergency and discussed the evacuation procedure with the captain of Lady Jenza's guard.
Elysar told herself that she was doing all of this out of duty. In truth, however, she was very diligently avoiding the auburn-haired woman with watchful emerald eyes that seemed to follow her everywhere. There was something in them that Elysar couldn't quite decipher: amusement? Curiosity? Whatever it was, it made her extremely uncomfortable.
When every crook and corner of the grand traveling yacht had been thoroughly inspected, Elysar had no choice but to return to the resting lounge — the abode of Lady Jenza. Walking in there was akin to entering a rock-lion's lair where the cunning creature was waiting for its simple pray, its handmaidens lined up along the wall in the flowing dresses of blue — the color of the cloudless sky.
"Do sit down, child." Her voice dripped like sweet honey; there was a raspy quality to it.
If Elysar was allowed to roll her eyes, she would have. Instead, she took a begrudging seat on an incredibly soft leather sofa. It was decidedly more comfortable than the hardy sleep couches in the dormitories of the Temple.
"The ship is clear, my lady," she reported dutifully.
Jenza's red lips stretched into a lazy smile, "My worries are all put to rest. Thank you." It took a lot of Elysar not to bristle at the sarcasm.
She said nothing and continued to say nothing, all under the woman's stare — Elysar felt stiff with awkwardness, trying her hardest to look anywhere but at Jenza. The handmaidens seemed to be doing the same. Their lady, however, was in a keen mood for talking.
"You have your mother's looks," she said, studying Elysar's delicate profile, "It is quite uncanny."
Elysar shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. The only tell of her discomfort was a pointed indifference to this conversation.
"And your father's moods," Jenza noted with a feline smile. It was as if she knew just how to play on Elysar's strings — like a well-rehearsed sonata, only slightly out of tune.
