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“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Mon turned her head to look Kleya in the eyes. She suppressed a sigh.
“This.”
The room was pleasant enough. The walls were painted in soft earth tones, and there were so many plants that Mon was reminded of the jungles of Yavin, even though she was certain they were from Niamos. Music played so softly that Mon could barely make out the melody. That, too, was calming. The view was nothing Mon would have objected to – quite the opposite. Kleya’s and her own lounge chairs stood not far apart, close enough that Mon’s eyes could follow the silhouette of Kleya’s naked body, something she never tired of doing.
Their time together was limited. Even in the New Republic, the Senate felt more like Mon’s home than anywhere else. And Kleya traveled a lot, even though she stopped over at Chandrila more often than was strictly necessary.
A day like today – alone, the two of them, undisturbed – was a gift. It was, in fact, a gift. From Runai Sculdun, who, Mon suspected, wanted to show the mother-in-law of her son – and the still-wife of her lover – how little bad blood there was between them. It was a nice gesture. One that Mon would have genuinely appreciated, if she hadn’t been so certain that Kleya would rather have shoveled a path through the snow on Hoth than be here. She had accepted the plan without complaint, but Mon suspected that sometimes Kleya played by Mon’s rules because she wasn’t entirely sure how this relationship game was supposed to work. Even if she would never admit that.
It was something Mon didn’t want to take advantage of. Still, she hadn’t wanted to offend Runai. She’d been nothing but kind to Leida, and thanks to her, Perrin wasn’t a problem at all. But Mon hadn’t known how much mud would be involved in this spa day. Not that it didn’t look good on Kleya.
Kleya gave her a brief smile. It still had the power to surprise Mon, even though she never doubted its sincerity. But Kleya had always been hard when it came to the cause – she still was. And she had always used her smile when it served that cause. In Luthen’s gallery, as the friendly assistant. At Leida’s wedding, at Sculdun’s soirée, as the young, attractive single woman she had been. Mon had noticed. She also knew perfectly well that the smile Kleya gave her was a different one. She had suspected it from the very first time.
It was still a surprise. It still felt special.
“Relax. Next week is going to be rough.”
Mon closed her eyes. Kleya was right. There were so many votes on the agenda that she’d nearly lost track. Good thing Erskin was still around to keep her grounded. She heard Kleya clear her throat and opened her eyes again. Unlike her own face, Kleya’s was mostly free of mud.
“I can’t have it around my eyes,” Kleya had said in a polite tone to the masseuse. She was generally kind to people who served her, had always been. Mon had noticed that too.
It was a good thing, Mon thought. To be able to look at those eyes freely. Sometimes it was hard not to lose herself in them, but she would never keep her gaze away as long as she could.
“I’ve done this before.”
Mon propped herself up on one arm.
“You’ve been here?”
“I was.”
The next question was out before Mon could decide whether it was an appropriate one. Relationship rules were complicated, for her too.
“With whom?”
Kleya said nothing, just looked at her. Then a smile crept back onto her lips.
“On my own.”
It was childish to feel relieved, Mon thought. But that’s how it was. She held Kleya’s gaze. She would be honest about this.
Kleya raised her eyebrows.
“An assistant who works hard needs a break.”
Now Mon didn’t need any more time to put two and two together.
“You planted a listening device.”
Kleya’s grin was wider than that of a Tooka cat.
“Maybe it’s still there.”
She rolled back onto her back. For a moment, she seemed far away. Still here, but not with Mon.
“It was a different room.”
Her voice had gone flat. Mon understood. It would have made no difference anyway, even if the device had been hidden close by. The comms that once received its signals hadn’t existed for a long time. It was something they didn’t talk about. Because they couldn’t, because they didn’t have to. Things had disappeared with the Rebellion. People were gone. It was a price they had both paid, willingly.
“How did you smuggle it in?”
Mon knew her light tone sounded forced, but Kleya turned back toward her, and a glint of mischief crept into her eyes.
“What do you think?”
Mon let her gaze wander over Kleya’s body. She held her breath. Kleya had wiped her expression clean, then laughed.
“One way, yes.”
She nodded toward the stand where their bathrobes were hanging.
“They have deep pockets.”
Mon reached out and touched Kleya’s arm. It was warm beneath the mud.
“So it’s not too bad being here?”
“Covered in mud?”
“Yes.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
Kleya was silent for so long that Mon began to fear the answer. Then she turned onto her side again and met Mon’s gaze.
“It was boring, lying here.”
She paused.
“Remarkably boring later, listening to all those people. What they talked about. What they didn’t talk about.”
She sounded almost surprised as she continued.
“It’s never boring with you.”
Then she shook her head, as if trying to shake the mud from her cheeks. Her mouth curled again into that mischievous smile.
“And…”
“And…?”
Mon held her breath. Kleya laughed – almost carefree.
“Wait till you see their fresher. It’s very big. One shouldn’t use it alone.”