Convergence (Star Wars: The High Republic)

by Zoraida Córdova

He remembered being under the water and seeing Xiri’s face, the fear there even as she was seconds from drowning. Would she always have a fraction of that fear when she looked at him? When they’d come ashore, she would have fallen on her blade rather than be taken prisoner. The same blade she’d nicked him with, right under his chin. He touched his finger there, to the spot that hadn’t even left a scar. His pulse was frantic at the memory, and now she wanted to unite them, their worlds, their families, their planets.

Xiri shifted uncomfortably for a moment, her large amber eyes flicking toward him. He tried, and failed, to suppress his grin. “There is much I must learn about your ways, as you will learn about ours. But from what I know of Phan-tu Zenn, I know he is kind and brave. He will make an admirable partner. If he agrees.”

Phan-tu had never been engaged before. He had never really considered it, even though he knew, eventually, it would be expected. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when, and as he stood and made his way toward Xiri, captain, princess, his betrothed, now seemed as good a time as any. She rose and met him halfway. He unsheathed her bane blade and presented it back to her. She wrapped long fingers etched with thin scars around the hilt and pressed it to her heart, then offered her free hand. “For Eiram,” she said. He felt the barest tremble at her touch. Fear? Hope? And he said, “For E’ronoh.”

The way Xiri’s eyes brightened when she saw him twisted something in him. She’d looked at him with fear, suspicion, a dash of murder. Later hope. Perhaps one day, when things were settled, when they got to know each other the way his mothers knew each other, the way someone can know another by touch and scent and sound—she might look at him with love.

She was justice and he was chaos. The thought made him want to run.

Xiri and Phan-tu had a single moment together. He gripped her waist and pulled her close. “Can I?” he whispered. “Hold that thought.” Xiri rucked up her wedding dress. She unholstered a tiny red blaster, leveled it at an encroaching bounty hunter, and fired. “I am madly in love with you,” Phan-tu said. “Good.” Xiri pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him like their world was coming to an end.

“You can’t fake your own death if you die.”