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    Summary

    “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Rey says, pacing across the woven rug in the small chamber she had been escorted into earlier that day.

    The man, Lord Han Solo, who is sitting in one of the two large chairs in front of the fireplace sighs, rubbing at his temples then looks to his wife. “Leia, please,” he begs and Rey watches the corner of the woman’s mouth tilt up into a smirk.

    “Our son has been cursed,” she begins and Rey puffs out a breath through pursed lips, making Leia pause and lift a brow in her direction.

    “I understand that part,” Rey clarifies, “I don’t understand why you want me involved at all.”

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