That hadn’t been what she meant, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t something she could accept in a moment. It wasn’t something she could accept in a day, or a week. Months or years, perhaps. But this wasn’t... Force, it made her ill.
“There’s no way to tell it well, Obi-Wan. Not news like this. And I would rather hear it from you than anyone else. You don’t have anything to apologise for.” It wasn’t the first time she’d told him that since arriving in the Land of Make Believe, and any other time she would have been amused. There was no amusement in her now; there was nothing but horror and sorrow and a sort of aching numbness lingering around the edges. Guilt and anger, too, laced through everything else.
Anakin was going to kill Obi-Wan. That was... She wasn’t certain she could forgive that.