"You shouldn't let her win like that," Jake said softly.

The lambent eyes focused their full outrage on him. "Watch what you say, human."

"Kerrigan was wrong. She didn't take your honor," Jake continued, wondering where in the world this sudden rather reckless courage was coming from. "You let her take it."

Jacob—

Zamara was warning him to back off. Jake ignored her. "Kerrigan didn't force you to do what you did. Sure, she set up the situation, and it was a horrible one. But you decided what to do about it. You chose to kill Raszagal. Don't blame Kerrigan for that."

Jacob, I would advise you to cease this line of conversation.

Zamara, I don't have a lot of time left to me if we don't convince Zeratul to get off his ass and help us. He's wallowing in self-pity right now.

"You didn't lose your honor. You kept it. Raszagal was at peace with what you did."

Zeratul had been stunned into mental silence at Jake's words, but the mention of Raszagal startled him into erupting. "You did not know my matriarch! How dare you speak for her!"

"But I did know her, in a way." The words were spilling out of him now, as they earlier had from Zeratul himself. "I was Vetraas, and Vetraas knew Raszagal, and that girl, that gutsy little spitfire, was proud of who she was and what she believed in. I bet that didn't change when she got older and became the leader of the dark templar. I bet she just got smarter and wiser and stronger, developed a rational head to go along with that passionate heart. I bet she was a terrific matriarch and loathed every nanosecond of being under Kerrigan's control. You didn't kill your matriarch, Zeratul. Kerrigan did that the minute she forced her way into Raszagal's brain and used her as a puppet to betray her own people. All you did was cut the strings. Raszagal died free. If you don't think there's honor in helping her do that, then I gotta say, you are not the protoss Raszagal thought you were."

Zeratul jerked as if slapped.

"Her last words were a duty you're failing to discharge. You're letting her down, big time. She asked you to watch over her tribe. She put the future in your hands, and right now, you're just sitting on them. My individual future and that of your people—hell, if Zamara's hints are right, the entire universe—is ticking past while you sit here on this out-of-the-way planet and feel sorry for yourself. You want that to be Raszagal's legacy?"

Zeratul moved so fast that Jake didn't realize he'd gone just that extra smidge too far until he was flat on his back with the protoss's hands on his throat. Zamara took over at once, forcing herself into Jake's body and fighting back, flipping Zeratul over, wriggling free, and dropping into a crouching stance.

When she had done this before, Jake's body had been able to defeat a master assassin in hand-to-hand combat. He didn't underestimate Zamara's prowess—she knew every fighting technique every protoss had ever known, after all—but he knew the limits of his own body, and there was no way a human could win this particular fight. Not even a human with a protoss at the wheel.

After all this, I didn 't think I'd die at the hands of a protoss, Jake sent wildly to Zamara.

But he didn't.

Exerting a mental control Jake could only marvel at, Zeratul regained his composure. Calm draped him like a cloak. That stillness, so profound as to be almost unreal, settled over him and he rose to his full intimidating height.

"Leave. Now. And do not return."

Rosemary whistled, soft and low. "Wow. So a human woman warped the matriarch of all the dark templar into serving her will and ultimately forced a loyal subject to kill her. Okay, I see your point. I'm surprised that this Hierarchy of yours is even willing to talk to me after that. I'd heard some about Kerrigan. But not that."

"You do have a great prejudice to overcome," Selendis agreed. "The amount of pain Kerrigan has caused my people cannot be underestimated. Bear in mind also that protoss are unfamiliar with your culture. It may well have been that all females of your species are untrustworthy, and only the males are capable of actions of merit and compassion."

"Well, that's not true. We're all individuals."

"Your past does not exactly lend itself to our believing that."

Rosemary sighed. "I know. But there's nothing I can do about it. I can't and won't deny it or pretend it didn't happen."

Selendis eyed her, and yet again Rosemary felt her measure was being taken. The protoss continued.

"As I said, your thoughts will all be read. That is one thing you must be prepared for. The other thing is, they will do their best to unsettle you, to keep you off balance. Do not permit yourself to be intimidated, and if you do, in Tassadar's name do not become adversarial. Yet also, do not be overly meek. If you win their respect, they will be more likely to give credence to your request."

"Great. Diplomacy. I'm not good at it."

"They will know that too. There are those who will be ready to take your side and those who will be ready to oppose you. We are... not quite yet the united people Adun and Tassadar had hoped we would become." The executor's thoughts were laced with just the barest hint of pain and regret, quickly covered. "But even the dark templar respect preservers. You have an advantage in that the truth of what you say can be verified. Engage them, do not alienate them, and I am hopeful of the outcome."

Engage, but don't alienate. Rosemary made a wry face. Much, much easier said—or in this case thought—than done. She settled back in the overlarge chair, still facing the window but no longer seeing the images that passed below her.

She'd been before the Heir Apparent to the Terran Dominion and stood her ground. She'd killed—or at least thought she'd killed—a man she'd loved in cold blood. She'd lobbed grenades at zerg, piloted a ship under attack, and done any number of other things that required nerves of paristeel.

Why, then, did anticipating this audience make her stomach knot?

She realized it was because before, the only thing that had been at stake was herself. Her life, her fortunes, her feelings. But this time, more—much more—than that rested on how she'd impress this High Muckety-Muck Hierarchy. This time, maybe the whole universe rested on her shoulders.

And even more than that.. Jake's life rested on that.

"Fighting zerg was easier," she muttered.

ROSEMARY PACED IN THE ANTECHAMBER OF what Selendis had told her was the dark templar's citadel. It had been fascinating to watch the ship maneuver in for a landing—the entire citadel was erected atop a gigantic hovering disk. She'd been shunted off to this room, and had been told to wait. And wait.

Vartanil watched her in sympathetic silence. "Protoss protocol moves at a glacial pace," she muttered.

"I must agree with you, Rosemary," Vartanil said. "I have spent the last four years on Aiur, where sometimes a fraction of a second meant life or death. There was no option for hesitancy or slow deliberation. Not even among the Tal'darim, where we were somewhat safer than our brethren on the surface." He added, "Safer, of course, being a relative term. We did not need to fear the zerg, only our own Xava'tor."

She nodded absently, wondering if she'd made the right decision in coming in her worn, stained leather outfit rather than the graceful protoss clothing. She shook her head at herself, her silky, gleaming black hair flying with the gesture. It wasn't like her to second-guess her decisions. This whole situation had put her off her stride. It was time to pull herself together. Too much was at stake for her to walk into that hall rattled and fretting about clothing choices.