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| - Milya heard the door open from her position in the kitchen finishing up the slow-cooked roast she’d been seasoning. Though normally she didn’t consider herself the picture of a domesticated housewife, every once in a while she figured it didn’t hurt to dabble in it—plus, she had needed to get away from work for an afternoon. Too many bureaucratic budget meetings could overwhelm even the Director of Yanibar Guard Intelligence. The door’s sound told her that her husband Selu was home, just in time for dinner. She added more tubbas spice to the roast, dipping a finger into the hot gravy to taste it, pleased with the savory flavor. “I’m home,” Selu Kraen called. “Ryion won’t be here for dinner tonight, he’s doing a late-night exercise with the rest of the team.” “Which one?” Milya asked. “Night nav,” Selu replied from across the house. “It’s just you and me tonight.” “Good, then you can help me with the dishes,” Milya answered jovially. “Dinner’s almost done, put your things up and we’ll eat.” Retrieving a pair of pot holders from the drawer, she lifted the heavy pan from the stove and carried it from the kitchen to the large oval wooden table that dominated the dining room. A basket of bread and a fresh salad were already there; she’d finished them earlier. Milya set the roast pan down on the table and then returned to the kitchen for dishes and utensils. While she could have afforded a serving droid to handle this duty, she saw no need in having one for something she could just as easily do herself. The Kraens had once owned a servant droid, J7-A0, who had helped around the house and with their daughter, Rhiannon. Rhiannon had been struck blind by a childhood illness and J7 had been created by Selu’s brother Sarth to help look after her. However, ten years ago, Rhiannon had left Selu and Milya and the safety of the Yanibar refuge where they lived to the harsh environs of the Outside to marry a farmer named Kavlis Burke. After Rhiannon had left, Milya had given J7-A0 back to Sarth, feeling that the droid reminded her too much of the daughter she had lost. “Hello, dear,” Selu told her as she returned to the dining room. He helped her distribute the dishes and utensils between two adjacent place settings and then kissed her on the cheek lightly. “How was your day?” she asked him as they sat down to eat. “Uneventful,” Selu answered drily. “Lots and lots of budget meetings.” “Just think, you’re helping preserve the fragile state of Yanibar’s continued existence, one credit at a time,” she told him teasingly. Once, that would not have been a joking matter. When Selu, Milya, Sarth, and Sarth’s wife Cassi had founded the Yanibar refuge over forty years earlier, the galaxy had been a very different place. The Empire had a crushing hold on much of known space and had brutally slaughtered the Jedi. Selu, who had once been a Jedi Knight in the Old Republic, had escaped the carnage and together with his companions, had created the refuge as a place for Force-users to live in exile until the Empire could one day be overthrown. That day had come and gone many years ago, and the New Republic that had replaced the Empire had even negotiated a treaty with their former enemies. The Yanibar refuge had grown and thrived in its decades of isolation, and now Selu, the head of its defense force, and Milya, the chief of its intelligence agency, no longer had to live with the impending worry of an overwhelming Imperial attack that might strike at any moment. While there were always threats to the colony, their situation was no longer dire. “They, uh, missed you,” Selu quipped. “I’m sure they did,” Milya said sarcastically. She wasn’t exactly known for her high tolerance of bureaucratic micromanagement. She was a spy, not a datapusher. “I brought you the daily intelligence brief you wanted,” Selu said, handing her a slim datapad. “The Yuuzhan Vong invasion continues to worsen and the New Republic’s rallying around Ithor to defend it. Nothing too surprising.” Milya glanced it over as she spooned some of the gravy into her mouth. “Good roast, by the way,” Selu complimented her. “Thanks,” she said. “Better than sitting in finance meetings all afternoon.” “Indeed.” Selu leaned in to kiss her again, but Milya frowned and held up a hand. “Did you see this, under the local intel section?” Her husband paused. “No, what is it?” he asked innocently. “Liar,” she replied flatly. “You did see it, and you weren’t going to tell me.” Selu sighed. “Guilty as charged,” he confessed. “I was just as disturbed as you are now, but I also realized that every particular infraction in this area is not cause for intervention. There are boundaries you know.” Milya’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I like this cavalier attitude about incidents of this type,” she told him. “Perhaps we should discuss this later, before you really ruin your chances tonight.” “Fair enough,” Selu demurred. “We’ll talk about it later.” “Good choice,” she said. Outside Evening supper was normally an unruly affair at the Burke residence. Dishes clattered against metal utensils. Conversation ebbed and flowed. The controlled chaos was a familiar experience for Kavlis Burke. The lanky farmer sat at his customary position at the head of the table with a hot bowl of stew in front of him. It was simple fare, but he enjoyed it. His wife of ten years, Rhiannon, sat beside him and their three children, Tavin, Tamaron, and Aurelise, rounded out the rest of the family. The small room was a tight fit with five people around the table, but they managed. The humble farmhouse was a roughhewn affair and built for practicality and durability over comfort or appearance. It was a modest dwelling for a modest family living on a modest farm. They eked out a living from the land most years and it was enough to support their family. Theirs was not a comfortable or extravagant existence, but it suited them. Kavlis reached over to caress his wife’s cheek gently. Her blindness meant that she couldn’t see him smile, so physical touch was the best way for him to express feeling to her. “Thanks for supper, Rhinny.” “You’re welcome,” she said, dimpling slightly as she smiled. “Tavin helped.” “Good work, son,” Kavlis told his seven-year-old second son. Tavin nodded as he continued eating his own soup. “Aure, don’t slurp,” Rhiannon reproved her four-year-old-daughter. “Okay Mama,” she replied. Kavlis noted that nine-year-old Tamaron hadn’t been his usual rambunctious self. Instead, he seemed surly. Furthermore, Tavin had been even quieter than normal. Something was wrong. Kavlis knew he should talk to them after dinner. Typically, he would have started with Tamaron as he found it easier to talk with his oldest son, whose personality was similar to his own. Tonight, though, he decided to ask Tavin—he didn’t want the boy to feel lesser than his brother. After dinner, Kavlis sought out Tavin and found him upstairs in the loft. The lad was lying on his bed and appeared to be doing the homework he had brought home from the school he and Tamaron attended outside of planting and harvest season. “How’s the math, son?” Kavlis asked him. “Only a dozen problems left, sir,” Tavin answered him. “Good work,” Kavlis said, reminded that Tavin had always been studious. “Did Tamaron help you?” “Not today, sir,” Tavin told him. Kavlis decided that enough small talk had passed. Sitting atop the light blue quilt covering the foot of the small bed, he patted the surface to get Tavin’s attention. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Tavin’s face fell. He gave no immediate reply. “I asked you a question, son,” Kavlis asked after a minute’s silence. Tavin grimaced, obviously uncomfortable with making a confession. “You can tell me,” Kavlis said coaxingly. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously chewin’ on Tamaron too. What could bother my two boys so much they don’t want to talk to their dad about it?” Tavin sighed. “Somebody said something today at school,” he admitted. “What’d they say?” Kavlis asked, his mind running through any number of possibilities. Depending on what Tavin had heard, he hadn’t expected to have some of these conversations quite just yet. Still, if that was what needed to happen, he’d do it. He owed it to his boys to not be squeamish about sensitive topics. Tavin continued to show obvious reluctance to divulge the events of that day. “Something mean,” the boy whispered. “Did someone make fun of you?” Kavlis asked him concernedly. “No, well . . . maybe? I don’t know.” “Just tell me,” Kavlis urged him. Tavin sighed again. “A couple of the other boys at school got mad at Tamaron when he was able to climb farther up Pioneer’s Rock than the rest of them. They couldn’t catch him, so they said . . . stuff instead.” “What kind of stuff?” Tavin suddenly burst into tears. “They talked about Mom,” he admitted. “They said their dad told them she was a blind whore-witch. Another one said his dad said she left the refuge because nobody else would take her. They said that their dads were lucky enough to not fall for her spell or give up the money you paid for her.” Kavlis suddenly felt his jaw and fist clench involuntarily. Anger flooded through him. He was an easy-going man, but he did not brook insults to his wife. “What did you and Tamaron do?” he asked. “Tamaron was going to fight them,” Tavin said. “I reminded him that you wouldn’t like that, and he said he didn’t care.” “Did he?” Kavlis asked. “He climbed down, but one of them grabbed me and threatened to punch me real hard if he tried anything. Then the teacher showed up and we had to go back inside. Tamaron wanted to fight them, but he never had a chance once we in school again. They taunted him the rest of the day, with whispering those mean things in his ear. He woulda fought ‘em, but he didn’t want to get in trouble again after what you said after last time.” “I see,” Kavlis answered thinly. “Well, I need to congratulate him on his restraint.” “What should we have done, Dad?” Tavin asked him. “They were talking bad about Mom!” Kavlis stiffened. “Sometimes, you have to be a bigger man and walk away from people who make fun of you,” he said. “You boys did that today, and I’m proud of you.” “Even though they said mean things about Mom?” “Who said those things?” Kavlis asked. “Well . . .” “Tell me,” Kavlis insisted. “Luda Arbo, Makel Sneel, and Taz Forbas,” Tavin confessed. “They said they heard it from their dads. Would they do such a thing?” Kavlis’s expression darkened. “I intend to find out,” he said firmly. “You did good today, son. You and Tamaron both. We’re going to settle this.” “By walking away?” Tavin asked. “Walkin’ away works most of the time,” Kavlis said. “On the other hand, there are boundaries that a man can’t let be crossed. This is something for me to handle, not you.” “Why?” “You’ll understand when you’re married,” Kavlis assured him. “Anythin’ else you need to get off your chest, son?” “Just one thing: what’s a whore?” Kavlis rolled his eyes and ruffled his son’s hair. “That one can also wait until you’re older,” he said. “It’s not a very nice word for a lady, and you’re not to use it. Ever. Understand?” Tavin nodded obediently. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Finish up your homework, and then we’ll see about some popcorn and chocolate by the fire,” Kavlis told his son. “I’m going to go find Tamaron.” “He’s in the shed, punching hay bales,” Tavin mumbled. Kavlis smiled. His oldest was so much like him at that age. “Thanks,” he told his son. “You know you can talk to me about anything—any time—right?” “I know,” Tavin said simply. Kavlis rose to go, but halted before he left the loft. “One last thing,” he said. “Don’t mention this to your mother.” “Okay, Dad,” said Tavin, engrossed in his homework again. “I mean it,” Kavlis said sternly. “Let me know that you mean it, too.” That got Tavin’s attention. “Yes, sir,” he replied. “Good,” Kavlis said, then he managed a smile despite the silent fury building inside him. “Popcorn in half an hour.” Inside, three hours later Selu was lying comfortably in their bed, staring out across the room at the crackling embers of the fire he’d lit in the fireplace more for mood lighting than warmth. He was smiling easily, the cares of the day washed away by an evening spent with his beloved wife and an excellent wine selection that had accompanied their dinner. This was his time to relax and unwind before it was time to sleep and start the new day again tomorrow. He was drowsy and comfortable under the covers and intended to keep growing increasingly so until he fell asleep when he sensed Milya stiffen from where she was lying beside him. Reaching out with the Force, he could sense that her mind was full of turmoil. He rolled over to face her, his finger gently caressing the upper sleeve of the silken robe she was wearing. “All right,” he said. “What’s wrong?” Milya was silent for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “What’s wrong is that a bunch of lowlife Outsiders have been saying unspeakable things about my daughter in public.” She rolled over to glower at him. “And what’s more, my husband and her father doesn’t even have the pair to be offended by it.” “Is that so?” Selu asked, indignant but still somewhat playful. “I’m pretty sure you know better.” “You know what I mean,” Milya answered, undeterred. Selu sighed. “I’m not happy about it either,” he said. “As far as I know, Rhiannon’s never done anything to cross the three men in the report, and no, she doesn’t deserve the cruel insults they’re spewing.” “I sense a ‘but’ coming on,” Milya warned him. “It’d better be a good one.” Selu winced. “But it’s not right for us to intervene on her behalf every time she faces adversity or, in this case, a spiteful person,” Selu explained. “She’s a grown woman with a husband and a family of her own. We can’t fight every battle for her like we did when she was a little girl.” “So you want me to do nothing?” “I want you to respect the boundaries we deliberately set with regards to Rhiannon’s life,” he said. “I think we should pick our moments of intervention appropriately. Is this how you want the Outsiders to think of us, or of her? That she’s fragile, or that her overprotective Jedi parents come swooping in every time someone makes a hateful remark? That she needs us to rescue her?” “I wouldn’t mind, honestly,” Milya admitted. “Do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?” Selu asked teasingly. Milya gave him a warning look and continued. “But I also don’t want her or Kavlis resenting us. She’d feel patronized and probably feel almost as bad as if she’d heard the remarks herself.” “To say nothing of how Kavlis would feel,” Selu pointed out. “We’d be indirectly supplanting his role. He is her husband after all.” Milya sniffed dismissively. “Second-luckiest man in the galaxy, after you,” she said. “Both of you married way out of your league.” “No arguments there,” Selu agreed. “But we should let him do his job.” “And if he doesn’t?” Milya asked sharply. “Have some faith in the man,” Selu told her. “We did let him marry Rhiannon.” “And if he doesn’t?” Milya repeated. Selu sighed. “Then maybe it would be in everyone’s best interest for some additional insight,” he conceded. “But only if this continues. I don’t want you jumping on a bunch of Outsiders for a one-time comment they made while intoxicated in a cantina. For this kind of thing, better to let Kavlis be defeated as a man than to win and feel like he did nothing to earn it.” “Fine,” Milya said. “In the event it happens, I get to administer the insight.” “Wait just a minute,” Selu protested. “What about me? I happen to be very insightful.” Milya smirked. “Of course you are, dear,” she told him patronizingly, patting his shoulder. “But you’re also the respectable one. It wouldn’t look good for the head of Yanibar’s defense force to be out causing trouble among the locals.” “I can wear a disguise,” Selu pointed out. Milya shrugged. “That’ll work great right up to the point where you tell them to never speak about your daughter that way again.” Selu scowled. “And how are you getting away with playing Mama Wookiee?” he demanded. “I’m not as well known,” Milya answered simply. “And the Outsiders don’t know me as anything other than your wife. They don’t know my occupation.” Not completely ready to admit defeat, Selu persisted in his protestations with one final attempt. “I’m sure we could make it work.” Milya arched an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps you need some additional . . . persuasion?” she asked playfully. “Don’t tickle.” Outside, two days later Kavlis strode through the town of Draskar with a sack of daro beans on his shoulder. He had spent the last several weeks preparing a field to try this new crop after several neighbors had had success with it in previous years. Now he finally was ready to buy seed and plant them before snow started falling. A brisk wind was blowing through the narrow streets of Draskar, chilling him as he walked. Tamaron and Tavin walked alongside him. The two boys had earned the privilege to come with him thanks to their good behavior all week. Kavlis had let them explore a bit and venture into the toy shop where they had gazed at the wide array of playthings. With dusk falling and their errands complete, they were heading back to his hovertruck. They were passing by Sogg’s cantina when Kavlis heard Tamaron whisper to Tavin. “That’s them.” The farmer turned his head and immediately saw through the window who his sons had been referring to. Arbo, Sneel, and Forbas. The three men who had reportedly been insulting his beloved wife. His Rhinny. His free hand clenched into a tight fist and then slowly relaxed as he forced himself to stay calm. His sons and wife deserved better than for him to be caught brawling. He kept walking. “Hey Kavlis, is that you?” Sneel called to him, having emerged from the doorway. “Come on in and have a drink!” The man’s speech was slurred from too much alcohol. Even if Kavlis was in a mood to have a drink, he never would have shared it with Sneel. He didn’t know the man well, other than a distinct lack of a good reputation. “Can’t,” he called back over his shoulder. “The boys are with me and Rhinny’s waiting for me back at the house.” “Ah, I see, gotta get back to yore precious missus,” Sneel jeered. “Shouldn’t be so concerned, Kavlis. Not like she’ll be staring out the window for you.” Pleased with his jibe, Sneel sauntered back into the cantina, accompanied by ribald laughter from his companions. Kavlis froze in place, silently counting down from ten as he fumed silently. This wasn’t the time or the place he had wanted to settle the matter, certainly not with his sons here, but the words that Sneel had dared uttered had cut him to the quick. He was angry now, angrier than he had been in a long time. When he hit zero, he dropped the sack of daro beans. The farmer looked at his sons. They were both looking up at him with hurt and angry expressions on their face. “What are you gonna do, Dad?” Tamaron asked him. Kavlis’s face was grim. “Boys, do you remember what I told you about being the better man and walking away?” “Yes, sir,” they both agreed in unison. “And then I said there are certain boundaries that shouldn’t ever be crossed, and how I said I’d handle it.” “Yes, sir,” his sons replied. “That person just crossed a boundary, and now I’m gonna handle it,” Kavlis told them. “Stay here with the daro beans. Both of you. No matter what happens. You hear me?” “Yes, sir.” With that, Kavlis turned and stalked into the cantina. It was dimly-lit and smelled of smoke and alcohol. There were few patrons. A pair of Duros were talking quietly in the corner over whiskeys, while an old woman in a big hat and sunglasses nursed a mostly-finished drink near the door. However, Kavlis’s attention was fixed on the three men sitting at a window table, surrounded by glasses and bottles. Most of them were empty. In seconds, he had crossed to their table. Sneel turned to address him. “Well, well, you came in for a drink after all! Come and join us. The ball-and-chain won’t miss you too long.” It took considerable effort for Kavlis not to punch Sneel’s lights out on the spot. When he spoke, his voice was low and ominous. “I heard from my boys that your boys said you’ve been talkin’ ‘bout my wife,” Kavlis said. “They said you three referred to her as a ‘blind whore-witch.’ There any truth to that?” “I dunno, you tell me, Kavlis,” Arbo jested. “Is that what she is?” The other two laughed at the riposte. “Was it a spell, or did you pay for her?” Sneel added amidst guffaws. “And was it worth it?” Forbas added. Kavlis stood in silent fury, mentally daring these fools to slander his wife one more time. “I mean, he did sire those three kids offa her,” Arbo pointed out. “Some good musta come out of it.” “Assuming they’re hers,” Sneel replied, leering at Kavlis. “You got another filly in the barn, Kavlis, or just the one?” “Don’t talk about my wife that way,” Kavlis warned them threateningly. “I won’t say it again.” “Did we hit a sore spot, Kavlis?” Arbo asked him mockingly. “What’s the matter, she up her rates?” Sneel added with a cruel grin. At that moment, Kavlis hit his breaking point. In a flash, his fist shot out and slammed into Sneel’s jaw. The man’s head snapped back with a loud cracking sound. The other two would have jumped on him in an instant, but were slowed by alcohol and surprise. This afforded Kavlis the opportunity to sweep up one of the bottles and smash it into the side of Arbo’s head. It shattered satisfyingly as Forbas leapt up. He swung at Kavlis, clipping his ribs, but the farmer kicked out, aiming low. The kick took Forbas in the knee, doubling him over. Kavlis hauled the groaning man forward by the scruff of his neck and slammed his face into the table. A sudden blow nailed Kavlis in the eye, temporarily blinding him, as Sneel recovered. Kavlis threw up his arms and caught the second blow. His vision returned just as Sneel roared and threw a third punch at him. Kavlis sidestepped the wild haymaker and lunged forward to smash his elbow into Sneel’s nose. The man fell back against the booth with a shriek, clutching his bloodied face. Kavlis saw the dazed Arbo beginning to rise and landed a punch squarely to the man’s paunchy midsection. Before he could recover, Kavlis punched him twice more in the gut and finished him with a vicious jab to the throat. He collapsed to his knees, allowing Kavlis to kick him in the head and lay him out cold on the ground. The enraged farmer whirled back on Sneel just as Sneel charged with his head lowered in a wild bull rush. Kavlis pivoted to the side so Sneel barely clipped him and let his momentum carry him into one of several support columns throughout the building, dazing him. Kavlis took his time to aim and deliver one of his hardest punches to the man’s kidney. Sneel screamed as Kavlis whirled him around and rammed his knee into Sneel’s groin. Grabbing his shirt collar, Kavlis braced Sneel against the column as he brought his face, a mask of fiery anger, within ten centimeters of the gasping Sneel’s. The man’s eyes were bulging and he was obviously in great pain. Blood flowed freely from his nose. “Now you listen to me, you cur, and make sure the others hear it when they wake up,” Kavlis informed him, balling his fists around his collar and pressing against his fleshy neck. “You can talk shif about my farm. You can talk shif about me—you listen real good now. The day you speak an ill word about my wife, or my boys, you’ll answer to me. Nod slowly if that got through your thick skull.” Sneel nodded very slowly, clearly petrified of what Kavlis might do next. Clearly, he had not anticipated such violent repercussions. “My wife is the loveliest, sweetest, most honorable, most beautiful woman on this entire planet,” Kavlis uttered fiercely. “She has never done any of you or your family any ill. Repeat that.” Sneel started to stammer through his battered jaw. “Kavlis, please . . . just—just a joke,” Kavlis snarled and shoved him harder into the pillar. “Those aren’t the words I want to hear from your trashy mouth, Sneel,” he grated out. “I ain’t tellin’ you again.” His eyes thoroughly wide-eyed with fear, Sneel hastily complied. “Your—your wife is the loveliest, sweetest, most . . . uh . . .” “Honorable,” Kavlis prompted. “Then beautiful.” “Most honorable, most beautiful woman on the entire planet. She ain’t done any of us or our families wrong.” “Good,” Kavlis said, still glowering. “Now that had better be the one and only thought that runs through your tiny brain the next time you consider my wife. And it had better not happen often. You clear?” “Ya, yes, Kavlis, I get it,” Sneel told him. “Just let me go.” “Not yet,” Kavlis instructed him firmly. “You’re coming with me.” He unceremoniously and forcibly hauled Sneel outside the cantina. Unsurprisingly, Tamaron and Tavin had been watching through the window and their mouths gaped open in astonishment. “You’re gonna apologize to these my sons,” Kavlis instructed the hapless Sneel. “And then you’re gonna repeat what you said in there about my wife.” “Kavlis, is this really . . .?” Sneel asked tiredly. “You got one kidney I ain’t punched yet,” Kavlis said. “I can fix that.” “All right, all right,” Sneel relented. “Boys, I’m uh, sorry I talked bad about your ma.” Kavlis shook him slightly. “You can do better than that.” “Real sorry,” Sneel added hastily, with more enthusiasm this time. “She’s the loveliest, sweetest, most honorable, and the most beautiful woman on the entire planet. She’s never done anything bad to any of us.” “Good,” Kavlis said. “Now get your sorry carcass back in there and explain it to the other two when they wake up.” He released Sneel, shoving the man away from him. Sneel hastily stumbled toward the cantina, clutching his back. “Let’s not have this talk again, Sneel,” Kavlis called warningly after him. “Won’t go as well next time.” Sneel hastily disappeared into Sogg’s. Kavlis grimaced and wiped a trickle of blood from his nose where Sneel had punched him. His eye was beginning to swell too and his knuckles throbbed, particularly the right hand he’d used to sock Sneel. All in all, Kavlis figured it had been worth it. That didn’t diminish the pain though. He winced, looking down at his boys, who were still struck speechless from the sight of their father demolish the three miscreants. Kavlis wiped his nose again. “Well boys, time to go home,” he said. “Let me just settle things with the barkeep in there and we’ll go.” “You did well in there,” a voice called out to him from behind. Kavlis turned to see the old woman with the hat and sunglasses standing a few paces away regarding him. She was dressed like an Outsider, a townsperson from Draskar, but her voice was familiar. He peered closer at her face, checking for familiarity, when her identity dawned on him. “Mrs. Kraen,” he said respectfully, a bit embarrassed that she had just watched him brawl with three men in front of her grandchildren. “Kavlis,” she replied evenly. “You saw it all, didn’t you?” he asked. “I did.” A sudden realization came to him. “You knew, didn’t you?” She gave him a single nod. Kavlis shook his head and smiled ruefully despite himself. “I’m surprised you didn’t go in there and kick their a . . . offensive selves around yourself, ma’am,” he said. “Knowing what I do of your family.” “I considered it,” she told him. “But you had things well in hand.” “What if they’d have beaten me?” he asked. “Do you really need to know?” “It’d be nice to know where we stand, yes,” Kavlis answered. Milya shrugged. “I would have kept it from going too far, but I wasn’t going to fight your battle for you unless your life was on the line. Better to be defeated as a man than to win and feel like you did nothing to earn it. I would have taken care of them later if it came to that.” “If I’d failed her, you mean,” Kavlis persisted. “Being defeated by three assailants equal or greater to your size and fighting prowess isn’t considered failing her in my datapad,” Milya told him. “Being afraid to stand up to them would be.” “Well, you got your wish,” he said. “Was this a test?” “Certainly not,” Milya told him, indignant. “I have no need to test you, Kavlis Burke. You already proved yourself ten years ago, and I trust Rhiannon’s judgment of your character.” “Though you still keep an eye on me,” Kavlis answered. “Kavlis, I’m your mother-in-law. It comes with the job description,” she retorted. He grinned and chuckled in spite of himself. “True enough, I reckon, ma’am,” he answered. He felt a tug on his shirtsleeve. “Daddy, who’s that?” Tavin asked. “That is your grandmother,” Kavlis explained. “Your mom’s mom.” Tavin wrinkled his nose up at Milya. “She’s old.” Milya arched an eyebrow. “You know Kavlis, I was considering bringing some of this candy out of my purse for my favorite grandsons, but maybe I’m too old and feeble.” Tavin’s and Tamaron’s eyes widened in anticipation. “We’re sorry,” they both said. “I didn’t mean it,” Tavin added quickly. “You should have,” Milya told him. “I am old—it’s just not polite to announce that to someone who is much older than you. Believe me, child, they already know.” Nevertheless, she extracted a pair of candies from her purse and distributed them to the two boys. “Head on back to the hovertruck, boys,” Kavlis told them. “Yes, sir,” came the chorus of replies and then they raced off. Kavlis sighed. “I need to settle things with the barkeep in there,” he said to Milya. “Don’t bother,” Milya answered. “He’s an . . . old friend. I’ve already taken care of everything inside.” “By which you mean he works for your husband.” Milya arched an eyebrow. “Do you really need to know?” she asked cryptically. Kavlis shrugged. “Guess not,” he said. “I want to thank you for letting me settle things in there. I needed to handle it.” “I know,” Milya answered. “Though it was hard to resist the urge to pitch in.” “If they cause trouble again, I’ll invite you to the sequel,” Kavlis joked. “Even more humiliating for them to be beaten by a . . . uh . . .” “An aged granny?” Milya prompted wickedly. He blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way, ma’am,” he told her. She gestured dismissively. “I’m only teasing,” she replied. “I understand that there are boundaries when it comes to how protective we should be when it comes to Rhiannon. She’s under your care, just as she has been for the past ten years. That alone should tell you enough.” “She is,” Kavlis agreed. “I’m glad you’ve been able to trust me.” “For the most part, yes,” Milya added. “Which explains why my crop harvests are never that bad and the sonic fence on the north pasture suddenly fixed itself after being broke for a week,” Kavlis remarked pointedly. Milya pinched his cheek, a move which completely astonished Kavlis. “See, I knew you were a smart boy,” she said. “And even though your pride would never allow it, you can call us anytime you need help.” “Thank you,” Kavlis told her. “Until next time,” she said. “Again, good work in there.” She turned to go, and Kavlis knew that she would soon disappear into Draskar’s dusty streets. A thought that had been growing in his mind throughout the conversation suddenly burst out, as he didn’t know the next time he’d get an opportunity to express it. “Uh, Mrs. Kraen,” he called. She stopped, pivoting back to face him. “Yes, Kavlis?” “About those boundaries,” he said, fumbling for the words now that he had to say them. “I know you and Mr. Kraen set a lot of those boundaries to let Rhinny and I live our own lives out here and not influence our children unduly.” “Yes?” “Well, I don’t know if it was by choice, but maybe there’s been a few too many,” he suggested. “What I mean to say is, the boys didn’t know you. The last time you saw them was when Aurelise was born.” He paused to collect his words. “I guess I’m sayin’ it’d be a shame for them not to know their grandparents, and Rhinny misses you both fierce at times. We’d love to have you visit more often, if you’re willing. Birthdays, school plays, even on holidays.” A pang of grief swept across Milya’s face momentarily, or was it regret? Kavlis couldn’t tell, for it vanished as swiftly as it had come, hidden behind her mask of a face. “That’d be nice,” she told him, her voice thick with emotion, as if she too was having trouble speaking. “I’d like that, and Selu would too.” She rolled her eyes. “He is an overgrown child at heart.” Kavlis smiled. “It’s getting late, ma’am. Would you like to come over for dinner? It’d be a nice surprise for Rhinny and there’s room in the hovertruck.” “And it’d help distract from explaining why your face and hands are busted up,” Milya quipped slyly. Kavlis grinned, caught. “A bit of a bonus there,” he said. Milya nodded amiably. “I’d be delighted,” she told him warmly as they started walking towards the hovertruck. “And there’s perhaps one more boundary we can remove while we’re at it.” “Ma’am?” She regarded him evenly. “You can call me Milya,” she told him. “You’ve earned it. Or even Mom, if you like.”
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