Dooku did not have the appetite or the nerve to face the others in the dining hall for the evening meal. He stayed in his room. When at last the hallways glowed with the cool blue light that meant the Temple was settling down to sleep, he felt relief. At least for the next hours he wouldn't be under scrutiny.

He couldn't wait to be called before the Council. He couldn't wait to tell the truth. He knew the Masters would believe him and not Lorian.

A Jedi Master was adept at discerning truth. Lorian would not get away with his lie, and Dooku would have justice.

He turned out the light and lay on his sleep couch, his heart burning.

He imagined how clearly he would speak. He would tell the truth — all of it. He would tell them how Lorian tried to tempt him. He would tell them how he refused him, and how Lorian had pressed him. It was with great satisfaction that Dooku imagined Lorian's punishment. A reprimand would surely not go far enough. Lorian could even get expelled from the Jedi Order.

His door hissed open. He hadn't locked it. Dooku never locked his door. He'd never needed to, until now.

Lorian slipped into the dark room. Dooku said nothing, hoping his contempt would fill the space better than words.

Lorian sat on the floor, a few meters away from the sleep couch.

"I had a reason for saying what I did," he said. "I'm not interested in your reasons."

"You don't understand anything," Lorian burst out. "Everything comes so easily to you. You never think about other people, about how they suffer. You just kept telling me I shouldn't worry about getting chosen. Why shouldn't I worry? Time is running out! It's so easy for you to say. You were picked right away."