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  Star Wars: The Princess and the Scoundrel is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2022 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated. All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  Del Rey and the Circle colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Hardback ISBN 9780593498491

  International edition ISBN 9780593597682

  Ebook ISBN 9780593498507

  randomhousebooks.com

  Book design by Elizabeth A. D. Eno, adapted for ebook

  Cover illustration: Oliver Cuthbertson

  Cover design: Ella Laytham

  ep_prh_6.0_140819454_c0_r0

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  The Star Wars Novels Timeline

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Han

  Chapter 2: Leia

  Chapter 3: Han

  Chapter 4: Leia

  Chapter 5: Han

  Chapter 6: Leia

  Chapter 7: Han

  Chapter 8: Leia

  Chapter 9: Han

  Chapter 10: Leia

  Chapter 11: Han

  Chapter 12: Leia

  Chapter 13: Han

  Chapter 14: Leia

  Chapter 15: Han

  Chapter 16: Leia

  Chapter 17: Han

  Chapter 18: Leia

  Chapter 19: Han

  Chapter 20: Leia

  Chapter 21: Han

  Chapter 22: Leia

  Chapter 23: Han

  Chapter 24: Leia

  Chapter 25: Han

  Chapter 26: Leia

  Chapter 27: Han

  Chapter 28: Leia

  Chapter 29: Han

  Chapter 30: Leia

  Chapter 31: Han

  Chapter 32: Leia

  Chapter 33: Han

  Chapter 34: Leia

  Chapter 35: Han

  Chapter 36: Leia

  Chapter 37: Han

  Chapter 38: Leia

  Chapter 39: Han

  Chapter 40: Leia

  Chapter 41: Han

  Chapter 42: Leia

  Chapter 43: Han

  Chapter 44: Leia

  Chapter 45: Han

  Chapter 46: Leia

  Chapter 47: Han

  Chapter 48: Leia

  Chapter 49: Han

  Chapter 50: Leia

  Chapter 51: Han

  Chapter 52: Leia

  Chapter 53: Han

  Chapter 54: Leia

  Chapter 55: Han

  Chapter 56: Leia

  Chapter 57: Han

  Chapter 58: Leia

  Chapter 59: Han

  Chapter 60: Leia

  Chapter 61: Han

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  By Beth Revis

  About the Author

  A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….

  PROLOGUE

  LEIA

  THE FIRES HAD ALL DIED down, smoke trailing in the night sky, dissipating long before it could reach any of the countless glittering stars twinkling through the tree canopy. Leia’s hand trailed over the white and black helmets of the stormtroopers and Imperial fighters that the Ewoks had turned into an impromptu drum set. She had laughed and danced along with everyone else when the fires were bright and the drinks had flowed freely.

  But now her hand lingered over the scratches and dents on a previously gleaming-white helmet.

  A person, a living being, had been under this helmet.

  The enemy.

  Someone who would have shot to kill—any rebel, of course, but Leia knew that her death would have been the highlight of a stormtrooper’s career. Someone shot this person before they could shoot her. And then the dead trooper’s helmet had been plucked from their head and banged on like a drum.

  She wondered who the trooper had been. Someone indoctrinated as a child, perhaps? That happened often enough. Someone from an occupied world, pressed into service? Had this stormtrooper chosen the path that led to their death and derision on a forest moon, or had they simply been unlucky?

  Her fingers slid over the scuffed surface of the helmet, but her hand froze before she touched the next one.

  Black.

  It wasn’t his helmet, she knew. The night made the gray-green of the AT-ST operator’s helmet appear darker than it was, and the shape was similar but still distinctly different.

  A hand fell on Leia’s left shoulder, fingers firm, pulling her back. Leia sucked in a harsh breath—the touch was too familiar. The hand pulled her back with the same pressure as before, the same spacing of fingers, one painfully on her clavicle, and when she shuddered at the touch, the same soft, almost gentle rub of a thumb against her shoulder blade.

  “It’s just me,” Luke’s voice said, concern etched on his face when she jerked away and turned toward him.

  Just Luke. Her brother.

  Darth Vader’s son.

  “You smell like…”

  “Smoke?” Luke guessed. “We all do.” He attempted a smile, but Leia didn’t return it. Because the scent that clung to Luke’s black tunic was not the same as the smoke that still lingered throughout the Ewok village of Bright Tree. The stench of it made her sick to her stomach—that, and the idea that while she’d danced, he had gone to give Darth Vader a funeral pyre.

  Still, when she looked in his eyes, she saw only Luke. And he was sad.

  “The whole galaxy celebrated while you mourned,” Leia said softly.

  Luke shook his head. “I wasn’t the only one mourning.”

  Leia glanced at the stormtrooper’s helmet. “No, I suppose not.”

  “How are you?” Luke’s voice was sincere, but Leia wasn’t sure how to answer him. This was supposed to be a triumph, but all she really felt was confused. Not just about what Luke had told her about her lineage—their connection was something she’d felt for some time, and it had been easy to accept Luke as her brother. She would not think about what that meant of her biological father. No—it wasn’t just that.

  “It’s the Force, isn’t it?” Luke asked.

  Leia nodded. She had told Luke that she didn’t—couldn’t—understand the power he had, but he seemed eerily calm and confident that she could actually wield the Force as he did. Leia might not have any real experience with the Force, but there was no denying the power Luke had…the power she felt, too, like a fluttering of flitterfly wings just on the edge of her consciousness. Waiting for her to seize it.

  “He told me to tell you—” Luke started, but Leia’s head whipped up, eyes fierce as she glared at him.

  “Don’t,” she warned.

  “They were his last words. He wanted me to tell you—”

  “I don’t care.”

  “He was good,” Luke insisted. “There was still good in him, after all…”

  My f
ather was good, Leia thought, but in her mind she pictured Bail Organa, not Darth Vader. Thinking of Bail made her think of Breha, her mother. Of her home. Of everything she had lost.

  When she had spoken to Luke earlier this night, Leia had told him that she remembered the mother they shared, their birth mother. It had been vague images, feelings, really, nothing more. But she did have a memory—of love, of closeness, of things she could not describe. It was impossible to put her feelings into words, but there was no denying their truth. It felt like…a connection, a bond made of light.

  Yet Luke, who was a Jedi Knight, strong in the Force, had no memory of the woman who had birthed them both.

  Did he have memories of their father? Was that why he was so capable of forgiving the monster that was Darth Vader? They had been separated at birth, not just from each other but from their biological parents. Maybe Leia had a connection with their mother, and Luke had a connection with their father.

  Leia bit back a bitter laugh. Perhaps it wasn’t as deep as that. Perhaps it was merely that Luke had never been tortured by their biological father the way she had.

  “What happens next?” Luke asked.

  Leia looked at him. Since becoming a Jedi Knight, he had always seemed so calm, so sure of his direction.

  He wasn’t sure now. His eyes searched hers. He’s waiting for me to decide my fate before he chooses his own, she realized. Their blood connection may be new knowledge, but he was also her friend. The threads of fate that had pulled them in separate directions could be rewoven.

  Beyond Luke, in the shadows, Leia saw the outline of someone else. Han was backlit by a lingering torch, but she recognized his shoulders, his stance. Cocky, even when no one was looking. When his eyes settled on her, he strode directly toward her, his feet loud on the rickety boards of the walkway between the treetop dwellings.

  Leia had no idea what would happen tomorrow or the next day or the next. But as she left Luke in the shadows and met Han on the bridge, she knew exactly what would happen tonight.

  CHAPTER 1

  HAN

  Two Days Later

  “IT’S NOT OVER YET.”

  That’s what Han had told the rebel Pathfinders after he’d left the Imperial base they’d uncovered on the other side of Endor. While the Death Star had been constructed in orbit around the forest moon, a separate communications base had been built on the surface, undamaged in the aftermath of the Death Star’s destruction—until Han and his troops had arrived. Signal intelligence had decrypted some of the messages the base had been sending out, transmitting throughout the galaxy. Blowing up the Death Star may have been fun, but it wasn’t enough. Imperials occupied countless worlds, and they weren’t just rolling over. The Pathfinders had gone in blasters blazing, but they hadn’t been quick enough to stop the signal.

  Data, comms, plans. All that info scattered across the galaxy. And it all came down to Emperor Palpatine still giving orders despite being nothing but ash and space debris now. He had calculated for his legacy to live on even if he exploded in space, and that was exactly what they’d been too late to prevent.

  One night. They’d all had one night to celebrate and pretend that the war was over. But…

  It wasn’t over yet.

  Han cursed. The debriefing with the generals—the other generals, because he now held that rank, too—had been quick and dirty, just a relay of information followed by the others scattering in various directions to make new plans. Time for the brains to work. No one had invited Han to stay and concoct a strategy to round up the Imperials that still remained and hadn’t gotten the message that they’d lost. That was fine. They just needed to tell him where to fly and what to shoot. He was good at that part. The best. Sure, he’d had some decent ideas in the past. But now that the blasting was over, it made sense for the others…

  Beside him, Chewbacca roared.

  “Yeah, I get you,” Han muttered. It never seemed to end. But then he paused, turning to look up at his old friend. “I haven’t forgotten, though, you know that, right? We’re heading back to Kashyyyk as soon as possible, kicking the Imperials off your world. You’ve got a family to take care of.”

  Chewie started to grumble, but Han cut him off. “No. We stick to our plan, and it was always for you to go home as soon as we had a break.”

  Han grabbed the rung of one of the ladders leading up into the tree village. While the leaders of the Rebellion had set up a base on the ground in order to be closer to the ships in the clearing and the immediate action they anticipated, it was little more than a large tent with a few smaller ones nearby to handle the overflow of quartering pilots and ground troops. The Ewok huts were far more comfortable living quarters. Beneath him, the ladder swung as Chewie followed Han up, his added weight throwing Han off balance for a moment before he could adjust.

  Leia hadn’t been at the debriefing.

  Han knew she’d been elsewhere, recording messages for allies, and he knew that the others would catch her up to speed. But…

  He wanted to see her.

  Han’s track record with love wasn’t necessarily the best. But this thing with Leia—it felt like more than…He couldn’t quantify it. It just felt more. He’d tried to walk away, more than once. Maybe, if he’d been able to leave Hoth when he’d planned…

  Han had meant it when he’d told Leia he’d exit her life if she wanted. Of course, that was before he knew Luke and Leia were siblings, before he knew a lot of things. But he’d meant his words. He would have left, not for his own benefit, but for hers. Every other time in Han’s life, when he walked away, he did it for himself. But not that time.

  Instead of letting him leave, though, she’d come to him.

  And Han didn’t know if he could let her go again.

  Especially not after how much time he’d already lost. He’d been frozen on Bespin and by the time he’d woken up again—blind and disoriented with hibernation sickness—so much time had passed. Leia had loved him for nearly a whole year, and Vader had stolen that year from him. Han wasn’t going to let more time slip through his fingers.

  Distantly, he became aware that Chewie had been talking to him. Han hooked his leg over the top of the ladder and landed with a thud of his boots on the wooden walkway of the village. “Yeah, buddy?” he asked.

  Chewie swung himself up, big arms balancing before he landed fully. He roared, half in amusement, half in discontent at being ignored.

  “Sorry!” Han said, throwing up his hands. “I’ve got things on my mind.”

  “Oh, am I just a thing?” Leia’s voice sliced through Han’s brain.

  “Hey, now, you don’t occupy my every thought, Princess,” Han snapped back, but the warm smile in his eyes belied the statement.

  “You sure about that?” she asked, smirking, her rosy lower lip just begging to be kissed, and Han blanked for several moments, incapable of doing anything more than blink at her.

  Chewie chuckled.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Han grumbled, reorienting himself.

  “I was just looking for you,” Leia said. Her tone slid from playful to business. “Mon told me about the plans discovered on the Imperial base, and I wanted to check in with the general who made the discovery.”

  Right. That was him.

  Leia kept speaking, unaware that Han wasn’t focused on her words. “The timing of that base’s communication—even if we haven’t been able to decrypt most of the encoded contents yet—indicates that there’s far more at play than we originally thought.”

  Grumbling, Chewie left the two of them alone, heading deeper into the village. Han was far too focused on Leia to really register his friend walking off, though. His mind raced with the impossibility of his thoughts—him, and a princess? It couldn’t possibly work in the long term.

  “We’ve been monitoring a lot of traffic in the Anoat system in particular, and I wanted
to see if any of the transmissions you intercepted indicated that,” Leia continued. “Or perhaps you saw something in the base—not everything needs to be online, physical transportation of sector codes could indicate—”

  Since when did Han care about the long term, though?

  “Han?” Leia asked, her head tilted up at him.

  “I want you,” he stated flatly.

  “Me?” She looked around—although the base below had been bustling with activity, this part of the village was remarkably quiet. “For what?”

  “Forever,” Han said.

  Leia’s confusion shifted to something else, something he couldn’t quite read. He never could tell everything going on in her mind, and he loved that about her.

  He loved her.

  She was a princess, the face of the Rebellion, the new government’s greatest hope, a symbol more than a person. But she was also just Leia. And she was his. Han needed her the same way he needed the Falcon—sure, he could fly without her, but what was the point?

  “Marry me,” Han said.

  Leia, usually so calm and collected, with the ability to face down Vader himself, could not hide her shock in that moment. Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and the rest of her body stilled, frozen in surprise. Han felt the corner of his lips twisting up, watching as Leia didn’t try to hide her shock. She didn’t hide her desire, either. He was hers, too.