So’lek had faced gunships without flinching.

This, somehow, was harder.

The Resistance gathered in the clearing with the loose patience of people pretending not to stare. The Sarentu stood a little apart, quiet but attentive, reading the weight in his posture, the careful way he positioned himself at her side. So’lek did not announce her. He did not need to. The way his hand hovered near her back—protective, deliberate—said enough.

He had kept her from this world for as long as he could. Not out of shame, but caution. Too many things he loved had been taken once they were named aloud. Letting others see her felt like opening his chest and trusting that no one would strike.

“She is under my protection,” he said at last, voice low but steady. “And she is the one I have chosen.”

The words carried farther than he intended. The forest seemed to still, listening.

There were nods. Soft acknowledgments. No questions he could not answer with his presence alone. The Sarentu watched him with something like understanding—recognizing the courage it took to bring someone into a life shaped by war.

So’lek exhaled slowly, tension easing as she remained beside him, unshaken.

This was not a battlefield. This was a promise.