Veela, with her head still cloudy from the bacta tank, as well as the prior torturous experience, wonders why she’s here.
“Obviously, we have similar paths,” she thinks, “Master Fa’talith is Jedi, as well as these two apprentices, or padawans …was that the word?”
She’s glad to be alive, even if the bacta leaves a funny taste in her mouth.
She feels the look of the men’s stares as someone is mentioned, Maya, was it? “Apparently, she’s the one who saved us all,” she thinks.
“I know they wonder if they made the right choice: to let Maya sacrifice her life instead of mine,” she thinks as she reads their emotion.
“They don’t trust me; but I wouldn’t be at this table if Master Fa’talith hadn’t made that decision already; so there is a reason I’m here and it’s not for them to question their master; now, I just need to discern this reason for myself,” she thinks.
For now, Veela is content that she’s on the right path to fulfilling her destiny with the force.