Dharo sighed in relief as he sank into the warm waters of the healing springs, leaning against the low the stone wall that separates their bubbling warmth from the cooling waters of the cave’s natural waterfall, all of which had decades ago became his favorite place on his mother-in-laws estates outside of the capital and palace city of Sark’aivl.

He and Nadia’s vacation visit of a few days had become an extended visit when Senator Thariki had collapsed shortly after her return from the Republic’s most current Senate session three weeks ago.

As a distant relative of Queen Mother Nyscha and the current Monarch, Queen Corschene, Nadia’s status as a former Republic Senator and Thariki’s predecessor, resulted in the obvious summons to the city for consultations on the possible replacement of Thariki. Her diagnosis of Radical Malignant Ionic Radioactive Carcinoma, one of the many new enhanced cancers that had arisen out of the environmental degradation caused by the Zakuulian Wars, meant a rapid decline in mental abilities followed by a painful death as her nerve centers decayed.

Senator Thariki had been a true adherent to the type of Warrior Senator Nadia had been as a younger Jedi Senator and leader of her people, and she had been the leader of the Sarkai’n rebellion against the Zakuulian overlords, leading the company of assault troopers who destroyed the flaghip of the Zakuulian fleet in this sector, the same battle that had killed King Sethun fifteen years ago when the ships power core detonated.

“May I join you, Master?” Jera asked.

Since it would not do to be seen as unaware of his surroundings, lulled by the soothing warmth and thoughts of his wife’s planetary history, Dharo slowly opened his eyes before glancing toward his latest padawan, standing in her brown and white robes. “Of course, Jera.”

He was not surprised when she stepped gracefully out of her robes, revealing her lean and muscled frame, completely nude. She had come a long way from the conservative Zakuulian academy he had found her at during a diplomatic mission fifteen years ago, and now readily accepted the Sarkai’n custom of nudity at healing spas and public saunas.

Her pale skin, rich black hair, and bright blue eyes were a striking similarity to her distant cousin, and Dharo’s friend, Senya, if far younger. Which is why . . .

“I didn’t cause problems today with Master Aeri’lynn, did I Master?”

“Of course not Jera,” he paused, briefly, sensing with the force which lesson would be best for her, then continued, “remember, the first rule of any diplomatic mission is to actively listen. Healing, whether of the body, mind or spirit, works much the same way. If you do not use all of your senses to observe, your diagnosis, whether aided by the force or technology will be in error. Today, your actions, silent though they were, and in many ways, akin to deception, generated the first step of healing, which is draining the source of the infection. In this case, the infection was composed of fear, embarrassment, confusion, love. This is why, over thousands of years, Jedi attempted to forbid the emotional and romantic entanglement of marriage, or the various cultural traditions similar to mate-bonding. Even great Jedi masters can be distracted by those pulls, and as hopefully you have learned, intense emotional trauma, especially fear, can lead to paths that divert to darkness and pain.”

He paused, his intense gaze locking onto her eyes. “You performed your task well, it is now up to me to monitor my friend’s path. I thank you for your efforts in this matter. I know that you will remember that all healing matters are confidential.”

Whether it was the heat of the waters, or the straight forward praise from her master, or the light indirect reminder of her breach of etiquette a couple of years ago, the young woman’s pale cheeks blazed red.

Footsteps echoed from the tunnel to the left, quickly followed by the appearance of seneschal’s aide, who stroke briskly to the side of the pool, “Master Jedi, we have received word that you are requested to join Perenoir Grell-Fes in dining with the queen and the prince consort this evening.”

“Of course, Taineka,” and he waded to the steps next to his padawan, the heated water draining in rivulets off of his slight, wiry muscled and scarred blue-skinned body before he stepped into the robes Taineka held open for him.

As he waited for his padawan to exit and for Taineka to wrap a robe around her as well, he wished he had such an easy answer for the coming decisiona with his calensa. They had come to Sarkai to relax and partake of each other’s love; emotional, spiritual and physical. Taking a couple days to work with his oldest friends in containing yet another Rakghoul outbreak had been an unexpected diversion given the crisis his mate had to deal with, and helping guide his old friend Aerie provided him great solace and peace, and yet sadness engulfed him for the barest moment as he saw the path he and Nadia would again have to tread; he wondered yet again if, perhaps, to maintain balance, he should step aside from his active duties to the Wardens and the Alliance they led for a couple of years, and focus on the continuation of a family that his beloved so obviously needed.