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“Not to mention stubborn,” Han pointed out.

“I’m not going to argue with her. I’m going to encourage her to put her plans—whatever they are—on the table. Then we’ll discuss them, with the intention of focusing and refining her logic.”

Han turned a wry look toward Isolder. “Not going to argue,” he repeated. “Do me a favor—make sure this ‘discussion’ takes place in an open space, with no flammable materials around.”

“You’re not coming?” Leia asked.

“I’ve got some work to do on the Falcon. You two go ahead.”

He spoke easily, with none of the competitive tone that had characterized his previous dealings with Isolder. The prince was not surprised. The look that passed between the two suggested a tie no former suitor could threaten, much less sever. Han gave his wife a quick kiss and then poured himself another cup of sludge.

But as Isolder moved the flap aside for Leia to pass, he heard Han’s softly spoken advice: “Watch your back, sweetheart.”

The prince understood that Han was not referring to the dangers implied by a former suitor. And knowing Ta’a Chume as he did, he found himself in complete agreement.

* * *

Leia Organa Solo understood that even during difficult times, certain protocols were inviolate. She could not go anywhere in the palace complex without paying her respects to the reigning queen mother.

She gave her name at the gate and was quickly led to Teneniel Djo’s domain. The uniformed guards took her to a sleeping chamber rather than an audience room. For a moment, Leia didn’t recognize the woman who rose haltingly from a chair to greet her.

When Teneniel Djo first came to Hapes as a young woman, she’d been something of an oddity: a forthright warrior among scheming patricians, a moderately attractive woman in a land whose people were renowned for beauty. Her short, compact build set her apart from the lithe Hapans, as did her ability to sense and use the Force. Leia sensed at once that this ability had weakened to almost nothing.

Teneniel Djo’s reddish brown hair was dull and thinning, and her skin had faded to an unhealthy sallow hue. She was far too thin. Her eyes were deeply shadowed and so devoid of expression that she might have been mistaken for a blind woman. The constant intrigue of the Hapan court must have been a slow poison to the Dathomiri warrior. Leia suspected that the defeat at Fondor and the loss of her unborn child had been merely the final blows.

They exchanged a careful embrace. Teneniel Djo pushed Leia off to arm’s length and regarded her with dull resignation. “You have been chosen?”

Leia hesitated, unsure how to answer, or what to ask. “I came to Hapes with the refugees,” she said, considering this path as safe as any. “Han and I plan to leave shortly.”

None of this information seemed to register in the queen’s eyes. “Tenel Ka has the ring.”

“Of course,” Leia agreed.

The small woman turned away and resumed her sightless study of the garden. Leia tried several times to engage Teneniel Djo in conversation, but nothing pierced the strange fog that surrounded her.

Finally she abandoned the effort and walked quietly from the room. She shut the door behind her and nodded to the two guards who stood watch. They returned her salute, but Leia noticed the irritated expression in one man’s eyes. She tracked his gaze over her shoulder.

A young man sauntered toward them, wearing the bright red color of the royal house and an expression of extreme self-satisfaction. He swept into an extravagant bow.

“An honor, Princess Leia. Ta’a Chume wishes to speak with you.”

From the way he said this, Leia wasn’t sure whether the honor was being expressed or conferred. “And you are?”

“Trisdin Gheer, companion to Ta’a Chume.”

A mottled flush rose in the faces of the guards. Leia felt both anger and embarrassment coming from them and understood that she had just been insulted. Apparently sending a courtesan to fetch her was offensive in the extreme.

This left Leia with two choices: ignore the insult and appear ignorant