(Something cold drops into her stomach and spreads through her chest, clinging to her like frostbite.

Cut...down? No, that can't be right. The rumors are wrong! Padmé curls her hands into her skirt to keep herself from getting up and tearing off to save them. She can't. Not here, not now.)

There has to be a way to stop it. If this is all Palpatine's doing, he must already be working on it.

(What sort of man can feign kindness and sincerity while stabbing everyone around him in the back?)

I need to go back and convince the Jedi to act.