Ep V: Chapter 19

The **** is a still pond. There isn’t even a ripple.

Still, Enthea can’t give herself completely over to the Harch’s masterful massage. She must always spare one sliver of her focus to be sure that Scora isn’t in danger.

To someone without context, this would look like a burly Harch delivering a furious beating to a small, naked Dathomirian. There’s nothing erotic about what he’s doing, but Enthea is in heaven. Her hour is up before she realizes it. Mournfully, she lifts her head, which was resting on her arms. The Harch is putting his things away. She can feel his hairy limbs on every inch of her skin.

“Can we do that again tomorrow?” she asks hopefully as she climbs off the table and puts her underwear on.

“Booked up, sorry.” The Harch folds up the table and breezes out.

She gazes after him longingly, then sighs and gets dressed. It’s occurred to her that Scora set this up to keep her away, but Enthea senses nothing dastardly afoot. And it’s not her job to investigate Scora, only to protect her. If Scora has some business dealings that she doesn’t want a Jedi present for, that’s fine with Enthea. As long as those dealings aren’t with Separatists.

It doesn’t appear that Scora has spent the morning working. Enthea finds her at one of the resort’s many pools, lying in the baking heat of an impressive and no doubt expensive artificial sun. Myra sits nearby, shaded by an umbrella. They both wear flattering bikinis, and Scora’s body shines with oil.

“Is this how you always start the day?” Enthea asks as she approaches.

“Not always,” Scora replies, opening her eyes and sitting up. Her gaze slides off Enthea and goes immediately to a topless Mirialan sunbathing nearby. “Although I should…” She bites her lip, staring at the Miralan’s perky tits.

“Should what, Dearest?” Myra asks.

“Hmm? Oh. I should get to the office,” Scora replies, checking the time on her communicator.

“Don’t forget I have the caterer this morning.”

“I remember,” Scora says, picking herself up. She stretches, and for once she’s not trying to show off, even if every set of humanoid eyes in the area is on her body. Including Enthea’s. “No rest for the weary.”

Enthea is taken aback by Scora’s sudden sense of urgency, but game. Getting away from this pool will be for the best; swimwear is a distraction. Scora walks past, and Enthea comes to her senses and stops staring. She finds the discipline not to even glance at Myra. Openly lusting over a shapely princess isn’t the sort of behavior that Masters Windo and Yoda will look kindly on. Although they probably wouldn’t blame her.

With a passable impression of dignity, Enthea follows Scora toward the main building.

She can sense Myra’s eyes on her back.