The first things Sorand became aware of were a dizzy, loopy feeling in his head, and the realization that the floors of the Citadel were surprisingly less uncomfortable than he’d previously imagined. Not that he’d ever entertained thoughts on how comfortable the Citadel floors were, of course.
He groaned and gingerly cracked an eye open, trying to make sense of what he saw. There were the bright overhead lights of his personal library, and a couple of faces over his head -- Ashara’s violet montrals and orange skin were recognizable anywhere, and he knew his father’s face by heart. But why did they look so worried?
“There,” Reanden’s voice sounded over Sorand’s head as he closed his eye again. “Told you that antidote would work quickly.”
“He isn’t exactly bright-eyed and awake either,” Ashara pointed out, sounding as close to “fretful” as a former Jedi could get. “My lord? Can you hear us?”
Sorand grunted something that he was sure sounded affirmative. “I feel strange,” he mumbled, having to think hard about the words before he could properly say them. A tongue that felt like it was made of lead and numb lips did not help his ability to speak. What the hells -- this wasn’t normal for him!
“I’ll bet you feel strange,” he heard his father’s voice over his head. “You were just slipped enough poison to down a rancor, kiddo.”
“... Poison?” Sorand forced his eye open again, frowning. Part of him supposed he should feel outraged -- who would dare poison a Dark Lord of the Sith?
“Yes, poison.” Ashara still sounded worried. “You’re very lucky Cipher Ni-- your father was coming to see you anyway and had an antidote to give you. This is my fault, I should have seen this coming…”
“There’s likely nothing you could have done, Ashara.” Reanden sounded far more calm than his Force-presence let on -- Sorand could sense tightly-controlled anxiety in his father’s Force-signature as he felt a worn, gentle hand on his cheek. “Talk to me, kid. How do you feel?”
“... Weird,” Sorand finally answered. “I… ‘s this what ‘high’ feels like?”
Reanden snorted, the anxiety mingling with amusement. “Yeah, it does -- don’t ask me how I know that. How’s your head? You hit that on the way down, according to your panicky apprentice here.”
“You did,” Ashara confirmed. “You passed out and went down hard.”
“Probable concussion,” Reanden muttered. “If I help you, can you sit up?”
“... Yeah?” Sorand was a little disappointed to realize that he did in fact need his father’s help to sit upright, when the room insisted on swimming around him and his head kept up with the dizzy feeling. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime. Although don’t get yourself poisoned again, for my sake as much as yours.” Reanden hummed in thought, frowning. “You got a list of any particular enemies who’d want you dead, son?”
Sorand frowned, trying to think through his brain continuing to float in a loopy haze. “... Harkun?”
“If Overseer Harkun wanted you dead, he would have killed you a long time ago,” Ashara pointed out. “Is there anyone on the Dark Council you’ve angered recently? Enough who would want to kill you for it?”
“... No.” Sorand rested his head on his hands and groaned. “None that’d get anything from me dead. Ugh, my head…”
“Yeah, you’re gonna feel dizzy for a while. It’s the antidote doing its thing.” Reanden squeezed Sorand’s shoulder reassuringly. “And I think we can rule your apprentices out -- Ashara’s panicking too much for it to be her --” He ignored Ashara’s squawk of protest, although Sorand couldn’t tell if the protest was at her being freaked out, or at the implication that she’d want to eventually kill her master. “-- and this isn’t Xalek’s style. He’d just kill you upfront, yes?”
Sorand nodded, and immediately regretted it when the room kept moving after his head was still. “Ugh. Ummm…” He suddenly froze. “... Revanites. Arkous could’ve… had followers he sent after me.”
“Revanites… or Arkous’ goons.” Reanden sounded disturbed. “Either one could be bad news. But I have this feeling you’re probably right.” He sighed heavily. “Hopefully, wherever they are, Lana and the Shan kid are having better luck than we are.”
The Revanites had been very good at staying out of Cipher Nine’s range, Sorand knew -- his father had been hunting for the cultists ever since they’d parted ways with Lana on Manaan, months ago, and hadn’t come up with any solid intel yet. But if they were close enough on Dromund Kaas to attempt assassinating him, a Dark Lord of the Sith… were they after Korin and Xaja as well? Did they have Cipher Nine in their sights? When would the next assassination attempt on his own life be, when they realized they’d failed here with the poison? “I have a bad feeling about this,” he glumly muttered.
