by Claudia Gray
As they began on a path leading into the forest, Leia glanced back at the faraway outline of Appenza Peak. Her courage returned at the sight of the challenge ahead.
It felt like she was taking her first steps up that mountain already.
Five hours later, Leia had decided she never cared if she ever climbed a mountain again.
It felt like she had already climbed eight thousand mountains and still Chief Pangie wouldn’t rest. Even lunch had been eaten on their feet while marching upward.
The slope of this hill wasn’t that steep, and other than the thick snow, the terrain wasn’t difficult either. For the first couple of hours it had been a pleasant walk. Now the backpack’s straps seemed to be carving their way through Leia’s shoulders, and her legs shook with exhaustion. As they made their way into a small clearing amid the tall firs, she couldn’t help thinking what a great place this would be to take a short break.
Chief Pangie halted in her tracks, put her hands on her hips, and grinned. “Well, would you look at this?” A hoversled sat at the edge of the clearing in standby mode, just waiting for its fortunate owner. Leia wondered if taking the hoversled counted as stealing if she replaced it right away—or she could give the owner a better, newer one in return, the best the royal purse could buy—
As Chief Pangie went to inspect the hoversled, Chassellon leaned against a tree, and the Ithorian took a seat on the nearest boulder. Although Leia was tempted to set down her backpack, she knew putting it back on again afterward would feel so much worse. She took heart when she saw Kier rest one hand on a conifer’s trunk; at least he knew by now she wasn’t weaker than him. The only students not showing any signs of weariness were Sssamm of Fillithar, and somehow, Amilyn Holdo, whose smile remained as glazed as ever.
“This surely is a beautiful hoversled.” Chief Pangie ran her hand along the streamlined steering console. “One gorgeous piece of machinery.”
“I’ve got one nicer than that back on Coruscant,” Chassellon sniffed.
This earned him a look from Chief Pangie. “Well, isn’t that fun for you? But your fancy-pants hoversled is in a whole other star system where it can’t do you a bit of good. Whereas mine is right here where I need it. I know which one I prefer.”
With that, she hopped on, hitting the ignition switch to bring the hoversled back to full power. Leia and the other pathfinding students stared as realization sank in. It was Chassellon who said, “You’re not—you’re leaving us out here?”
“Check out the big-city brain on Coruscant boy!” The chief couldn’t have been more delighted. “That’s right, kids. I told you I wanted to see who’d pay attention to the landmarks along our way. We’re about to find out who here can follow basic instructions.”
Harp Allor had turned nearly as white as the snow. “But—but—you told us there would be special techniques we would learn!”
“And you will,” Chief Pangie promised. “The thing is, none of those techniques will do you any good if you can’t even bother to notice where you’re going.”
Sssamm hissed in dismay as Chassellon said, “Isn’t this dangerous?”
Chief Pangie’s good cheer only increased. “If you’re not careful? Yeah.” Amilyn held both her hands to the sky as if thanking a sun god and mouthed the word Yes. The chief continued, “You’re all tagged with trackers. So anybody who hasn’t made it back to the chalet by nightfall—that’s about four hours away—well, we’ll be back up to collect you.”
A sigh of relief escaped Leia, and she glanced sideways to see whether Kier had heard her. If so, he didn’t seem to notice. Besides, she wasn’t alone. Every one of the students had brightened at the prospect of a ride back.
Which was when Chief Pangie added, “Of course, anybody who hasn’t got it together enough to make it back in that amount of time gets kicked out of the class. So you’d better hightail it down there, kids. Good luck!”
Cackling with laughter, she sped her hoversled down the mountain, quickly vanishing over a ridge.
Like everyone else in the class, Leia stared after the chief. She’d memorized a few landmarks. Maybe she could manage—
No. Not maybe. There’s no way I’m going back to my parents and telling them I failed.
It didn’t matter if every other student sat down in the snow and refused to budge. She was going to get down that mountain by sunset.
Somehow.
Leia assumed Chief Pangie had stranded them to create a bonding experience for the whole group. Working together to overcome the odds was supposed to create camaraderie and make them all lasting friends.
If that was the plan, it was failing miserably.
“Could you guys at least try to move faster than a glacier?” snapped Harp Allor when she had to stop, yet again, for their slower classmates to catch up. “We have a lot of ground to cover before sundown, and you guys are dragging your hindquarters.”
The Ithorian pointed at his cumbersome snowshoes, which were sturdy but slowed his pace. Sssamm of Fillithar hissed that maybe she could remember not everybody had hindquarters and to stop being so biped-centric.
Amilyn, who had clambered atop a stump, peered into the knothole of the nearest tree. “Nope,” she said in her singsong voice, “no snow owls here either.”
Kier had kept his temper so far, but this comment made him squint at Amilyn up on her perch. “Why are you looking for snow owls?”
“Why wouldn’t I look for snow owls?”
Apparently Kier couldn’t think of a good answer. After a long, silent moment, he nodded as though to say, Fair point.
Chassellon retied the expensive muunyak-wool scarf at his throat, making sure it had a rakish flair. Leia couldn’t fathom caring about appearances at a time like this, and by this point they were all overheated from the work of the hike. He was willing to make himself sweat even more rather than wreck his look. 2V would love this guy. “Chief what’s-her-name clearly resents us. Thinks she’s too good for students instead of soldiers. Can you imagine what trouble she’ll be in when this gets reported to Queen Breha? I can’t wait.”
“Can we all try to focus?” Leia held on to her temper, barely. “See that dead tree over there? The one that’s split in two at the top?”
Kier nodded. “The one that was struck by lightning. I noticed it on the way up too. We need to turn west around here.”
She was chagrined not to have realized the tree had been hit by lightning—but what did it matter? At least somebody else in this class could use his brain and his mouth at the same time. “All right. West we go.”
Already Harp Allor had begun hurrying ahead, bounding through the calf-deep snow. “The path’s clearer here! We can make up some time!”
“Harp?” Kier called. “I think I remember—”
Suddenly Harp jerked to one side and toppled over into a drift. Her cry of pain echoed against the rock-strewn slopes.
“—some tricky ice around there,” Kier finished.
Leia ran to where Harp lay in the snow, clutching one leg and wincing. “Are you all right?”
Shaking her head, Harp said, “I twisted my ankle.”
“Oh, that’s just sensational.” Chassellon buried his hands in his wildly curly black hair. “Can’t you walk it off?”
By now Kier had reached Harp as well, and the two of them tried to get her to her feet. Before Harp could try her weight on it, Leia saw the odd tilt of her boot and squeezed the girl’s arm as a warning. “Don’t! It’s not twisted; it’s broken.”
Kier added, “It’s nothing a few hours in a bacta tank won’t fix, but there’s no way you can get down the mountain without help.”
Thanks for confirming the obvious, Leia thought but didn’t say. She was getting better at figuring out exactly what she was mad about, when she was mad. Right now it wasn’t Kier Domadi, just the mess they were in.
Tears had welled in Harp’s eyes. “I screwed everything up for everybody.”
“No, you didn’t,” Leia said, but
Chassellon snorted. She glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He held up his hands in their expensive fambaa-leather gloves, a gesture of mock surrender. “I agree with you, Princess Leia. Allor didn’t screw things up for everybody, just for herself. I for one intend to return to the chalet by sunfall with or without her. From the look of things, without.”
When Leia got really, really angry, her temples would pulse, and sometimes she felt like the top of her skull would pop off to let out all the steam inside. Her head had already begun to throb. “You’d leave her out here on her own?”
Chassellon shrugged. “Apparently Chief Pangie thinks this stretch of wilderness is perfectly safe from all hazards except clumsiness. Therefore Ms. Allor here should be fine until we send a jumper to fetch her.”
“That’s unacceptable.” Kier’s tone remained even, but Leia could tell he was nearly as angry as she was.
“She would be lonely,” Amilyn said, still swaying atop her perch on the stump, staring into the knothole as though the long-awaited owls might yet appear.
“Lonely. Oh, well, let’s all get thrown out of the class to keep her from being lonely for a few hours.” Chassellon folded his arms across his chest. “Or we could act like rational sentient beings and start moving.”
“Go on ahead,” Harp said, her head drooping. “I’ll be fine.”
“We’re not leaving you,” Leia insisted. She let go of Harp, trusting Kier to support her, and marched over to Chassellon. “Think about this, will you? If we all stay behind with Harp, Chief Pangie has to keep us in the class. She can’t expel everybody.”
“You might escape, Your Highness, but the rest of us have to look out for ourselves. Trust me, when someone like that wants to make life worse for the people who have power over her, she’ll find a way. I don’t intend to give her any extra ammunition.” He reshouldered his backpack and put one hand on Leia’s shoulder, his expression so genuinely sympathetic that for a moment she thought he’d come around. Instead, he said in a lower voice, “I realize you have to stay. Word can’t get around that the princess of Alderaan abandoned someone on the slopes to save her own skin, can it? Appearances matter.”
“Appearances?” Her temples pulsed again, and her cheeks flushed hot against the biting cold air.
Chassellon took no notice. Instead he called to the others: “All those for the chalet, follow me!”
To Leia’s consternation, fully half the class started down the hill after him. Only the Ithorian even paused, inclining his head to say sorry. The others kept going without looking back.
And if I had to get stuck with only half the group, did it have to be this half? she thought. Kier stood there silently judging her while Harp sniffled against his shoulder. Sssamm seemed alert and calm but, as a serpentine life-form, couldn’t be a whole lot of help carrying Harp, her gear, or anything else. And Amilyn was still looking for the blasted owls.
Every single one of them apparently expected Leia to be their leader. That made sense, given that this was her planet, but it would’ve helped if she had the slightest idea what to do.
But I do know. I do. Leia took a deep breath. Her father had always said she should take heart when she had others on her side. Look deeply into them, he’d say, help them discover what they’re capable of, and you’ll always find you have the people you need.
That was…not easy to believe right now. But there was nothing else to do but begin.
“We were turning west,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” Amilyn said earnestly to Harp as she took her turn dragging the makeshift travois Kier had put together. Her acid-green hair looked like a chemical burn against the surrounding snow. “But there’s a bright side, too. Who would’ve guessed we’d encounter mortal peril so soon?”
Harp made a face. “I hope this isn’t quite ‘mortal’ peril.”
“It will be if we stumble into a crevasse!” Amilyn’s glazed smile broadened while Harp looked around nervously.
They were reasonably safe from that danger, given that Sssamm was slithering ahead to scout the terrain; his scales hissed against the snow, in contrast to the crunch of the humanoids’ footsteps. Leia wasn’t scared any longer; among the five of them, they remembered enough of the way back to be sure they could reach the chalet. Maybe they’d make it before nightfall, maybe not, but the important thing was ensuring Harp remained safe and well.
Still, if I know my mother, she hired the toughest pathfinding instructor in the galaxy, Leia thought. Anyone who thought princesses were “pampered” had never spent time with the royal House of Organa. Chief Pangie really might kick me out of the class if I don’t get back before sundown. If she does that, I’ve automatically failed my Challenge of the Body. What happens then? Do I have to try again next year? She’d never researched what happened to heirs apparent who didn’t complete the challenges they’d named on the Day of Demand. The possibility of failure had never entered her mind.
“I’m so sorry, everyone,” Harp said for about the eightieth time. But this time she kept going. “I’ve always done whatever it took to be at the top of my class, every single class. Stupid mistakes like this—” She breathed out sharply, like someone trying not to cry. “I guess I’m not used to failing this badly.”
Kier kept looking forward, walking at the exact same pace, as he answered her. “Then this is the best class you’ve ever had. Nobody learns anything new without failing the first few times they try. You have to face that and figure out how to get back up again. That means learning how to fail is the most important lesson of all.”
Although Leia said nothing, she felt the words as much as heard them, trying to process what he’d said. Her whole life had been like Harp’s, constantly striving to learn more, do more, be more. Nobody had admitted failure was even a possibility, much less that it could actually be good.
Under other circumstances, she would’ve found their surroundings breathtaking in their beauty—the conifer-filled valleys stretching out beneath them, the endless stretches of pristine snow, the way the jagged mountain range cut the lowering sun’s light into separate golden rays. Sssamm’s iridescent green scales glittered with every bend of his tail, and even Amilyn’s multicolored clothes were at least vibrant. Maybe if she could think of failure as a positive outcome, she could even enjoy part of this.
Someday, perhaps. As a memory. Today? She just had to keep marching.
Besides, failure wasn’t always personal. When Leia had failed on Wobani, others suffered the consequences.
Kier fell into step beside her. “The others probably aren’t that far ahead of us,” he said. “We might make it by sundown.”
“Maybe.” Leia doubted they would, but it wasn’t impossible. “Thanks for working on the travois.”
He shrugged. “My historical anthropology teacher always insisted on making us try our hand at primitive skills, so we’d see just how much intelligence they really take. If you ever need somebody to knap a flint knife for you, let me know.”
“Let’s hope it won’t come to that. Still, I just wanted to say, I appreciate it. You didn’t have to stay and help.”
Kier glanced sideways at her. “But you did.”
“What?”
“Have to stay.”
“What, because of appearances?” And here she’d been thinking they were at least jerk-free after Chassellon left. “That doesn’t have anything to do with it. I’d always stay with someone who needed help.”
“That’s not what I—” Kier fell silent. She realized he was hunting for words, and then recognized something in the way he couldn’t meet her eyes. This guy wasn’t standoffish; he was shy. Finally he said, “I’m sorry. Sometimes I’m not good at saying what I really mean.”
Now calmer, and curious, Leia took a deep breath. The air smelled of evergreens. “All right, try again.”
Kier kept going for several paces, long enough that she’d started to think he’d g
iven up, before he said, “I didn’t mean you were staying because of appearances. I meant, your royal role means you have to stay.”
She wasn’t seeing the difference, but decided to hear him out. “You mean, people hold a princess to a higher standard.”
“No. I mean, you hold yourself to a higher standard.” Kier glanced at her. Their breaths were small puffs of white in the bitingly cold air. “We hear a lot about how the House of Organa dedicates everything to the good of the people—”
“We do,” Leia insisted.
Holding up one hand, Kier continued, “Yeah. You really do. It’s not just propaganda on Alderaan, the way it would be on almost any other planet in the galaxy. The queen, the viceroy—and you too, it seems like.” Mollified, Leia nodded, and he took this as a cue to keep going. “So you don’t really have a choice to stay or go. Just like you don’t have a choice whether to be in the Apprentice Legislature or not.”
“You think I got stuck with the Apprentice Legislature?” Well, it was better than his thinking she didn’t deserve to be there. Now if only she felt she still deserved it, after Wobani. More forcefully—to convince them both—she added, “Trust me, I can’t wait to get back to the Senate.”
Kier’s sidelong look felt like an appraisal. “Really? Or do you just think you should?”
“I understand my own motivations perfectly well, thank you very much.” Leia meant for her words to sound angry. Meant to be angry. But really she wanted him to be quiet so she could mull over what he’d said. The idea of being able to choose her own future instead of inheriting the throne—it was so alien to her that she’d never consciously considered it, not even once. Only now did she realize that was actually very strange.
As if she’d sensed Leia thinking the word strange, Amilyn piped up, “Look at this!”
They had made it through another thick patch of woods into a wide clear space with stretches of slope completely free from trees; whiteness stretched out below them in nearly every direction. But those slopes were too steep to easily walk down, especially when one of them would have to pull the travois.
