Chapter 18: What was Chosen

                                    

                                          
Every time Lucian caught himself looking out his study window, he silently cursed himself. He knew exactly what his wondering eye was up to and what it was looking for. He sighed and forced his head back to the task at hand. Reports and paperwork. Paperwork and reports. That had been his lot for the past eight months since his father's passing.
                          
At first, he'd been thankful for anything that kept his mind off his father's death, including paperwork. In a way, it had also allowed him to grieve. However, now it had transformed into a tedious task. He was the first to admit that he never had a head for such things. He would more often than not, pour over sheets of numbers and words that he found meant nothing to him; it was as though all of it was a foreign language to him. It had become almost habitual to call in one or more of his council or more likely, his sister.
                          
She was a genius when it came to these things. She was able to see the bigger picture and make connections that Lucian couldn't have seen in a lifetime. Part of him wondered if maybe she was more suited to the job than he was... 
                          
He played absently with the stone pendant that he wore around his neck. It always felt heavier when he was alone with his thoughts. Sometimes, in his more fanciful moods, he would swear that it was pulling him, tugging him in the direction of the Tower. Did it want to go back home? Perhaps it wanted to be part of what it once was. He liked to believe so. He wanted to believe that it still, and thereby he too, had a connection to the Tower. 
                          
He ceased sliding his fingers over the smooth grey stone and turned back to his work. He wanted nothing more than to prove that he could accomplish this much, but easier said than done. He glared at the papers. It was not pride, but stubbornness that kept him from calling for her.
It was then that she appeared in the doorway as if by merely thinking of her, he'd summoned her. 
                          
"Ah, Luc." Yana smiled, "I thought you'd be in bed by now." 
                          
"No," he sighed, "I can do almost anything as the king. Commission a giant statue of my left pinkie toe, for example, but sleep is the one thing out of my reach." 
                          
That and one other thing.
                          
"And what keeps you burning the midnight oil?" He asked with a friendly smile. 
                          
"Couldn't sleep," she shrugged, "usually when I can't, I come here to read. It seems that working through a problem helps me to find rest." 
                          
"Well then," he grinned, "you've come to the right place!" 
                          
He beckoned her closer and turned the ledger to her. 
                          
"What do you make of this?" He inquired. 
                          
"Give me a moment." She requested as she poured over the figures. Her brow furrowed and he recognize the telltale sign of pure concentration when she started running her thumbnail over her pursed lips. She'd done it since she was very young. 
                          
And just as he'd done when he was young, he watched with admiration as she cracked the secret language. She picked up the pencil and began writing notes.
                          
"Yana?" He called her after a while. 
                          
"Yes?" She didn't look up. 
                          
"How come you never married?" He inquired. He supposed he should have been shocked that he hadn't asked sooner. He supposed he'd been so caught up in his own issues, and, he admitted grudgingly, feeling sorry for himself, he just never paid any heed to it. 
                          
This time she looked at him, arching an elegant brow. She somehow managed to appear regal, even in her bedclothes. 
                          
"I didn't want to be under a man's thumb." 
                          
"But you were under father's." 
                          
"Yes," she conceded with a nod, "but father never tried to manage me. He and I knew our standing with each other. We... respected each other as individuals." Her eyes misted over briefly before she turned the question to him, "and what of you?" 
                          
"Me?" He queried.
                          
"Yes," she nodded, "why are you unattached? I know part of your quest was to find the princess, but it's been months Luc."
                          
He walked over to the window and perched on the edge. He enjoyed looking out at the stars. It had become something of a game to him. Using the stars to try and guess the direction of the Tower.
                          
He realized his sister was waiting for an answer, but he was content to let her sweat while he figured out how to explain his situation. 
                          
"I met someone while I was on my quest." He smiled begrudgingly, "my failed quest." 
                          
"Oh? Why didn't you bring her back?" Yana asked a curious note in her voice.
                          
"She had her reasons for not leaving." He answered, "That is all I can say." 
                          
"Ah, I see." 
                          
He doubted that she did, but he didn't say anything. 
                          
"You must miss her," Yana said softly. 
                          
"Every day." He murmured, his eyes once again searching the distance.
                          
Having had his fill of that particular conversation, Lucian turned to face his sister, his next sentence died on his lips. Sitting in the seat their father once sat, reading over mountains of paper. He couldn't help but think how much his sister resembled their father. The way she sat, the way she looked like she owned the whole room. 
                          
An errant thought ran through his mind, The crown should have been hers. 
                          
His brow furrowed, "Say, Yana, dad was really ill during those last few months, wasn't he?" 
"Yes." She answered slowly, trying to determine the line of his questioning.
                          
"So who kept the kingdom going?"
                          
"Pardon?" she blinked.
                          
"Look, I know I was away for a while but when I came back Father had been in a poor state for a long time. Sure, he may have signed documents and decrees, put his seal where needed, but who ran the kingdom?" he scrutinized her features.
                          
"Well," she shifted in her seat, "The council, of course."
                          
"Yana," he cajoled her, "Come now, you and I both know that council is as useless as chicken without a head when there's no one to lead them."
                          
"Haven't you being going to them for help?" she pointed out with a smirk.
                          
"Don't think I haven't noticed they look to you first." He returned.
                          
"Oh! Alright!" she let out a huff of frustration. It was always easy for Lucian to fluster his sister. Fun, too.
                          
"When Dad started deteriorating, I stepped in." She shrugged as if it was a minor act. "I was good at it, but it was only until you came back to take your rightful place."
                          
There was no trace of resentment or anger in her voice. Lucian smiled, that was Yana's way. Doing what was necessary, even at great personal cost.
                          
"Thank you, Yana." He went to her and wrapped his arms around her in a hug.
                          
"Goodness! Whatever for?" she asked somewhat surprised, but hugging him back nevertheless.
                          
"For the help." He pulled back and grinned, his eyes sparkled, "You know, I think I'm going to head to bed. I've got a great deal to think about."
                          
"You do?"
                          
He nodded and let go of her. A plan was forming in Lucian's mind. He didn't know if it was a good one. In fact, he could hear a little voice asking him if he'd lost his mind.
                          
"Good night, sister." He kissed her cheek. "I love you."
                          
"I love you too, Lucian." Her brows knitted together, "Are you sure you're alright?"
                          
"Just need to sleep." He waved her concern off and left.
                          
Was he alright? He pondered as he walked down the corridor to his chambers. He wasn't sure. He could only hope that everything would be if could pull off the vague idea that was still gaining form in his head.
                          
Maybe he was crazy, maybe he was very crazy indeed.
                          
He smiled and the stone that lay in the center of his chest warmed.