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She was standing at the forge, back to Bo-Katan. But there was no mistaking that helmet.
“Your sister wasn’t afraid of me,” She said. “I hadn’t expected that from her.”
Truth be told, Bo-Katan wouldn’t have expected it either. Satine had been hurt in a way altogether too similar to the terrible thing that could have happened today, an ambush in her own home, and nobody would have blamed her for having had a trauma response. Instead, she’d seemed remarkably unscathed. “The Mand’alor is not afraid in her own home.”
“The Mand’alor is not unarmed either. But she was.”
Under her armour, Bo-Katan felt a chill run across her skin, hairs standing on end. Was this a threat?
“The Mand’alor is never unarmed, not while I or the Duke-Consort yet breathe.”
Her hammer slammed down, metal ringing clear as a bell. “You would be her sword and shield.”
Rex the shield, Bo-Katan the sword.
“Yes.”
“And without even the reward of being her heir?”
Bo-Katan and Satine had debated it, though She had no way of knowing it. In the end, they’d both decided that Korkie was the best future Mandalore had on offer. “I don’t need a reward to love my sister or my people, whatever you might think of me.”
She submerged the pauldron, for that was what it was, in a bath of cool water, and turned to Bo-Katan. Her eyes were hidden behind Her helmet. It was both a blessing and a curse that they had never been foolish enough to wed. Bo-Katan could only imagine the strength of the gaze that lay beneath that armour. “Did she tell you what we discussed, your sister?”
“Only that she thought you really wanted to speak to me. But I could have guessed that myself, with the invisible ink on your note.”
If She was surprised by Satine’s confidentiality, She gave no sign. “Did you tell anyone you were coming?”
Perhaps she would die here, the way Satine had once almost died, but Bo-Katan told the truth anyhow. “No. But I ran into a jetii on my way out of Sundari. You know what they’re like.” She said nothing, and so Bo-Katan pressed, as gentle as she could manage, “why did you call me here?”
“Why did you leave me?”
That wasn’t a fair way of putting it. “I didn’t leave you. But… she’s my family. Not just because of our blood, but in my heart I love her.” Perhaps it was the drink still humming in her that made her bold, or a rush of something far stronger than any substance. “And I love the others. I love Korkie as much as I could love any son. I love Duke Rex. He’s the most worthy warrior I know. The stars may have made us for each other, but do not ask me to reconsider my choice. I will not give them up.”
She reached into the water, grabbed the now-cool pauldron in Her hands. Clutching it close to Her heart, She said, “I didn’t go to see you. I went to see your sister for myself, to see if it was the right decision.”
“I don’t think seeing Satine at a party could ever tell you how much she means to me.”
“Not your decision,” She corrected, “mine.”
And She held out the pauldron, and Bo-Katan knew exactly what it meant even before the words were spoken. “I offer you my armour. Should you choose to accept it.”
“I can’t marry you. We haven’t spoken in years.” The words twisted her heart to say. “We don’t even know each other any more.”
She didn’t pull Her hand back. “I would like you to have it anyways. I am tired of only knowing you’re alive because of stray gifts from Manda. I would like to share my life with you, if you would have me.”
“And the vows? How could we ever ‘share all’ when everything of true importance to me is tied up in the things you loathe?”
Bo-Katan wasn’t sure what she expected to hear, but it wasn’t, “you were right.”
“What?”
“You were right. When you said that the least important part of being a true Mandalorian is being a warrior.”
It took her a minute to place the quote. “I said that on the holonet last month.”
“And you were right,” She said. It was patently absurd.
“I don’t believe you changed your mind because I gave a nice speech.”
“I changed my mind because I adopted a foundling last year, and I’m almost sure his soulmate is a jetii, and I don’t think that there is any part of any creed that could ever be more important than the oath I swore to him.”
Oh. “So you did understand what I meant, what the most important thing really is.”
Her voice gained a curl of amusement. “We were made for each other, Bo-Katan. I don’t believe any soulmate of yours could ever be less than your match in any field, even intellectual.”
Bo’s eyes were prickling with tears. Osik. “So what are you going to do now?”
“Do you think there is a place in Sundari for someone who wishes to hold to the old ways? In her traditions, if not her values?”
The helmet was going to be a logistical nightmare. Immigration usually wanted either their removal or a genetic test to prove new residents weren’t wanted criminals. “And to share that place with her son?”
“Who else?”
“Perhaps with one other?”
The amusement became even more prominent. “That could certainly be arranged. If you believe you could ever trust me.”
If Bo-Katan were asked to list a thousand terrible things about her soulmate, she never would have accused Her of being a liar. “It would take time.”
“These things tend to.”
“It might be a disaster.”
“And even if it is, I do not, in all sincerity, believe I could turn back from this path of reconciliation. Not when I am not travelling it alone. There are some things children should not be carried into, least of all children who have seen enough violence already.”
Of course, foundling. Most likely a war orphan, from their aborted civil war, or the greater galactic one. “You may come to regret it.”
“Regret you? Perhaps. But not him.”
“You understand,” Bo-Katan repeated for the second time that evening.
She nodded. “I do.”
Bo-Katan reached out, and accepted the Pauldron, their gloved and armoured fingers brushing together for a barest second. “I accept this as a courting gift. Let us see where the courtship takes us.”
“Perhaps a kiss?”
They stood, with their helmets pressed together in Keldabe, until the forge had burned low.