Work Text:
Lachaven, Republic of Sordland — October 1968
"Mom, I'm home!" Deana called as she let herself into the apartment, hanging her key chain up on the hook by the door. She tossed a pile of mail into the bowl on the credenza and set her purse down, before kicking her heels off into the corner. Shrugging off her coat, she opened the closet door to find herself blinking at an unfamiliar dark wool men's overcoat. "Mom?" She peered around the corner into the kitchen.
"We're in here, Deana!" Deana walked into the living room to find her mother at the dining table in front of the large picture window overlooking bustling Lachaven Harbor, drinking tea with Lucian Galade. Her father's old chess set was laid out between them, and they appeared to be mid-game.
"Uncle Lucian!" She rushed over to his side, and he stood, allowing her to throw her arms around him. "I didn't know you were in town! Are you here for the weekend?"
"I am, yes." He pressed his bearded cheek against hers for just a moment before pulling away and sitting back down.
"You could have told me he was going to be here, Mom." Deana plopped down at the table next to Lucian. "Ooh, are we having cookies?" Her mother passed her the tin and she pried it open eagerly.
"Honestly, Deana, you've been working so late we've barely spoken all week." There was no reproach in her mother's voice, but Deana still felt a twinge of guilt. "I would have let you know Lucian was coming but you were running out the door every time I saw you."
"How are things going at Magnus Cartus?" Lucian asked, turning to face Deana.
"Fine." She took a large bite of her cookie. Lucian kept looking at her, eyebrows slightly raised, and she finished chewing before elaborating. "It's fine. It's important work, I'm keeping busy, I'm learning a lot."
"But…?" Lucian prompted, and Deana shook her head firmly.
"But nothing. I'm grateful for the opportunity. I'm not going to trade on my name and my connections for anything." He didn't look satisfied with her response, but she pushed on. "So what brings the former president to Lachaven, anyway?"
"Diplomacy, believe it or not," Lucian replied dryly, and Deana was relieved that he seemed to be allowing the subject of her work to drop.
"What, really? I thought you were officially retired."
"I am," Lucian said, pulling a slightly disgruntled face that suggested he still hadn't quite come to terms with that situation. "But I'm representing the president at an event tomorrow morning at the Rizian consulate, commemorating the fifth anniversary of Sordland's entry into Intermerkopum. Crown Princess Vina Toras and the prince consort will also be in attendance."
"I don't know if you remember, Deana," her mother said, "but Lucian led the Sordish delegation during those negotiations, when he was serving as interim foreign minister in the beginning of Nia's first term."
"Of course I remember that. I was sixteen, not six," Deana said, fighting an irrational surge of irritation. "But why would they do something like that here and not in Holsord?"
"Hey, who doesn't love Lachaven?" Her mother gestured out the window to support her point. Deana had to admit the city did look spectacular in the setting sun, the distinctive Lespian architecture washed with pink and gold a striking contrast to the dark mountains surrounding the harbor. Lachaven was an undeniably impressive city, with all the culture and nightlife a young working professional could want. Still, she missed the vibrant capital where she had spent her childhood.
"No, Lachaven is great, don't get me wrong," she said, shaking her head. "I know you were born here, Mom, and you lived here for a long time, right, Uncle Lucian? But Holsord is something special. Being surrounded by all that history, at the center of the government…I didn't appreciate it enough as a kid." She finished the last bite of her cookie.
"She's certainly Anton's daughter, isn't she?" her mother murmured to Lucian, and he nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"Your father was indeed a Holsord man through and through."
"Remember how strong his accent would get whenever he was tired, or drunk, or even just excited?" her mother went on with a laugh and Lucian broke into a rare full grin.
There was a pang in Deana's chest, as usual, at the comparison to her late father. She had only been eleven years old when he was killed on that stage in central Holsord during a campaign speech, with her mother and Lucian at his side, and while she had loved him dearly and still had plenty of vivid memories of him, she had only known him as a child. The man revealed to her through old newspaper articles, through recordings, and especially through her mother and Lucian's stories, was a stranger to her in many ways, forever out of reach.
"Regardless," Lucian continued, "the other — more enjoyable — reason I find myself in Lachaven this weekend is that Mrs. Rayne has been gracious enough to agree to accompany me to the ballet tomorrow evening — " He broke off at the expression on Deana's face. "What's wrong?" Deana looked at her mother in outrage that was only slightly exaggerated.
"You're going to opening night for the new production of Duck Pond? The absolute hottest ticket in town? You're going to go see Elizabeth Cole in her Lachaven debut without me?" Her mother looked amused.
"What, did you memorize the Times article from last weekend?"
"I apologize, Deana," Lucian said with a grimace. "I only requested two tickets. I should have thought —"
"No, no, Lucian, it's my fault, I didn't even think to ask." Her mother sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, it just didn't occur to me that you would want to spend one of your rare free evenings out with a couple of old people." Lucian winced a bit at the description, and Deana suppressed a giggle despite herself.
"Under any other circumstances I would be happy to give up my seat," Lucian said, "but the optics of —"
"You have to be there, I know." Deana waved her hand. "First joint production of the Rumburgian Royal Ballet and Ballet Lachaven, and all that." It was being hailed as a new era of cooperation and cultural exchange between Sordland and Rumburg, following Queen Beatrice's abdication in favor of her son Bradley the prior year. All of Merkopa would be watching closely. It only made sense that the former president and a still beloved former First Lady would be in attendance. "I get it! I'm just a bit disappointed, I guess."
"To tell you the truth, Deana," her mother went on, a little too casually, "I thought you might have a date."
The hope in her mother's tone was too much for Deana and she stood, abruptly.
"I need — I need to get a glass of water." Two pairs of eyes watched her as she turned from the table — her mother looking apologetic, Lucian clearly curious.
"Deana—"
"I'll be right back." She made a hasty retreat to the kitchen and shut the door behind her. Leaning against it, she pressed her hands over her eyes in frustration, willing herself to calm down. She could still hear Lucian talking through the door, but his voice was too soft for her to make out what he was saying. After filling a glass from the tap, she leaned against the counter, sipping slowly. Her mother meant well, she knew that, it was just —
The telephone rang shrilly next to her head, and Deana jumped a bit, nearly spilling her water. Before she could answer, the ringing came to an abrupt stop — her mother must have picked up the extension in the living room.
" — we had all of this sorted out weeks ago!" Although her mother was using her most professional voice, Deana could hear the irritation as she walked back into the room. "No — no, I'll go down to the hotel myself. I was the one who signed off on everything. Just wait there for me, I'll be there in ten minutes."
She hung up the handset, a little harder than necessary, and turned back around, her gaze softening when it landed on Deana.
"You okay?" she asked quietly, and Deana nodded, flashing her a quick smile that she hoped was convincing. "Lucian, I'm so sorry, but I have to run out to take care of something for work — the Commission and the SLW co-sponsored a banquet tonight, honoring high school girls from all over Nargis—" Her mother rushed around the room as she explained, picking up her purse and shoes. "And now these idiots at the Hotel Antacea —"
She crouched down to pull on one high-heeled shoe, and toppled forward without warning, falling hard onto her hands and knees.
"Mom!" Deana cried, rushing to her side, but Lucian was there first.
"It's all right, Mrs. Rayne, I've got you," he said calmly, helping her to her feet with an arm around her waist. "Let's get you sitting down, all right?"
"There's no need to fuss," Deana's mother protested, cradling her left wrist to her chest as Lucian eased her down onto the couch. "I'm perfectly fine, just embarrassed."
"Then what's wrong with your wrist?" Deana demanded, sitting down close to her.
"Nothing!" She held it out to prove her point, and rotated it with a bit of a wince. "Maybe a little sore."
"May I?" Lucian asked, perching on the edge of the coffee table, and at her mother's reluctant nod, he began to gently palpate her wrist with his fingers.
"It's so silly, I always put my shoes on like that, but I just felt a little dizzy —"
"Yeah, Mom, but you've been having a lot of these little dizzy spells lately," Deana pointed out, and Lucian's eyes flickered briefly over to hers in obvious concern.
"Deana, there's nothing to worry about," her mother said gently. Using her free hand, she smoothed Deana's hair away from her face. "I'm just getting a little bit older, that's all." She turned back to Lucian. "Well, Dr. Galade?" she asked, archly. "What's the prognosis?"
He gave her a wry, affectionate smile, letting go of her wrist. "Nothing seems obviously broken, although you would of course need an x-ray to say for sure."
"Absolutely not. Truly, it's not that bad," she insisted. "It's already feeling a little bit better." She nodded in the direction of her high-heeled shoes. "Deana, can you help me with my shoes? I really do need to get going before all hell breaks loose at the banquet."
Deana was about to argue further, but stopped at the determined look on her mother's face.
"If you say so, Mom," she acquiesced with a sigh, kneeling in front of the couch to slip the pumps on her mother's feet.
"I shouldn't be more than an hour." She stood up, Lucian hovering at her elbow, and grabbed her purse. "Deana, you can entertain Lucian until I'm back, right? I'll pick us all up something for dinner on the way home. No fussing, you two, we're going to have a lovely evening whether you like it or not." Wobbling only slightly, she was out the door before either of them could voice an objection.
Deana turned to Lucian, who was still staring at the door her mother had disappeared through, his brow furrowed.
"How long has this been going on?" he asked in a low voice.
"A couple months, that I know of." She rubbed her forehead, suddenly feeling every hour of her long work week. "I've tried to get her to talk to her doctor, but you see what she's like about the topic."
Lucian nodded, looking pensive.
"Have you tried getting your brother involved? Perhaps with his medical background, Mrs. Rayne would be more inclined to take his advice seriously."
"Honestly, with the time difference from here to Kyow and his schedule at the hospital, I don't even remember the last time I talked to Franc." Deana drew in a deep breath, trying to will away her exasperation. "But that is a good idea. I'll try to get a hold of him this weekend."
"Good." Lucian seemed to be studying her face for a moment. "I trust you know you can still call me at any time, if needed?"
"I do, but I don't want to bother you —"
"As you so tactfully pointed out a few minutes ago, I'm very much retired now," Lucian said with a sardonic twist of his mouth. "Please consider yourself welcome to enliven the hours of my dotage whenever you feel so inclined."
Despite her worry, Deana couldn't help but smile a little. "Will do."
"And now," Lucian continued, "since there's nothing to be done about it tonight, why don't you and I play some chess?" He clapped a hand on her shoulder briskly and nodded at the table, where the set lay abandoned mid-game. "I believe we have some catching up to do."
***
"It's been several years since we played — you were still in high school, I believe," Lucian observed, watching as Deana reset the pieces. They both had fresh cups of tea, and Deana had fixed herself a plate with a few more cookies — lunch (a rather sad salmon salad at her desk, not at all living up to Lachaven's storied reputation for seafood) had been hours ago and her stomach was starting to rumble. "Have you kept up your game?"
"For the most part, but I can't say I've improved much. Carol and I used to play a lot when we lived together in university, usually as a distraction when we were supposed to be studying for exams." Deana laughed a little as she remembered. "She usually destroyed me— I might as well have been playing against you. I guess I'm meant to be more of a dabbler."
"Don't sell yourself short, Deana." Lucian looked her straight in the eye with a very serious expression. "You were a formidable opponent at sixteen and I'm sure you remain one now. It's simply a matter of practice and discipline."
Deana ducked her head, her cheeks feeling warm. "Yeah, I know." She finished lining up the pawns and looked back at Lucian. "Carol and I are a good match, though, because I like to play white — like you — and she likes to play black —"
"Just like your father," Lucian finished with a smile, his eyes growing soft, before he cleared his throat. "And would you like to play white now, or shall we leave it to chance?" Lucian plucked a white pawn and a black pawn from the board and held them up, questioning. Deana smiled.
"I'm an adult now, you don't have to let me pick every time," she reminded him. "Let's see where chance leads us."
Lucian held both hands out in front of him, a pawn concealed in each. Without hesitation, she tapped on the left. He opened his fist to reveal the white pawn, and inclined his head in her direction.
"It appears fortune is on your side today, Deana." He replaced both pieces on the board and carefully spun it around so the white side faced her, then looked up expectantly.
Taking a slow sip of her tea to buy some time to think, Deana decided to go for an opening she'd been experimenting with the last time she'd played against Carol. She picked up her knight and moved it forward, and looked back up at Lucian, who had that same soft look in his eyes again.
"The Réti," he murmured. "There was a period during your father's presidency that I was quite attached to this opening. Anton would always tease me about it..." He trailed off with a smile, and moved a pawn.
Deana, about to move her own pawn in response, paused and looked at Lucian thoughtfully. Perhaps it was because she had been thinking of Carol, but there was something about his rare use of her father's given name and that small, private smile that reminded her of something she had long wondered about. She realized that there would probably never be a better opportunity to bring it up.
"May I ask you a personal question?" she blurted out, before she could lose her nerve.
Lucian leaned back in his seat, raising one eyebrow in the way she'd never been able to master, no matter how much she'd practiced in front of the mirror when she was eleven.
"You may certainly ask," he allowed, as calm and collected as ever. "I can't promise you an answer."
Deana nodded, her mouth suddenly very dry.
"Were you…did you have, um, feelings for my dad?" She realized her leg was bouncing up and down and forced herself to be still. "Romantically, I mean."
Lucian didn't say anything for a moment, just steepled his hands together and gave her a long, measured look. She waited.
"My friendship with your father was one of the most significant relationships in my life and I still miss him very much," he said finally. "I cared deeply for him. But no, not in the sense that you're asking."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked!" Deana exclaimed, her face burning. "I just — well, you never got married, and — oh, god, I know it's absolutely none of my business —"
Lucian raised a hand to stop her stammered explanation. "It's fine, Deana. You didn't offend me. It's not an…unreasonable question." He smiled, a bit thinly, and nodded at the board. "Your move."
She picked up her pawn and moved it two spaces. Lucian slid a bishop forward, putting it in position to fianchetto.
"If I may, what brought this subject up today?" he asked, almost nonchalantly. "Did it have something to do with the conversation you had with your mother earlier?"
Deana's hand faltered as she reached for another pawn, and she picked up her teacup instead, taking a hasty sip. Lucian watched her calmly, still waiting for a response. "Um, no, not really."
"But you were upset by it," he said in a neutral voice. "Shall we talk about it?"
"It's not anything important —"
"Keep playing. It's good practice to maintain your focus even when faced with distractions." Lucian pointed at the board and waited while Deana moved her pawn. "Does this have anything to do with your friend Ms. Circas?"
"Carol?" Deana lifted her head from the board, surprised, as he brought his queenside knight into play. "What do you mean?"
Eyebrows raised, Lucian gestured for her to make a move, and she did so hurriedly.
"Deana," he said, in a voice that was, for Lucian, downright gentle. "Please forgive me if I'm overstepping, but if there's something you want your mother to know about your relationship with your friend, I suggest you just tell her outright." He castled kingside, deftly swapping the pieces without even glancing down. "I believe she'll be far more accepting than you might imagine."
"Oh!" Deana shook her head. "Oh, you think that Carol and I are…? No, no — I mean, yes, Carol likes girls — she really likes girls —" Deana started to giggle, thinking of her friend's dramatic escapades in the dating world, before remembering who she was talking to. She schooled her face back to seriousness. "But I…" She trailed off, hesitant to continue the thought.
"Your move," Lucian reminded her patiently. "And go on, please."
"Carol…well, she's my best friend in the world, I love her more than anything. But I don't have those sorts of feelings for her." She castled as well, mirroring Lucian's last move, and kept her eyes on the board when she spoke. "I don't have those sorts of feelings for anyone, to be totally honest. I never have. And I don't think I ever will. Does that…does that make any sense?"
Lucian didn't say anything, and she risked a glance up at him. He was looking at her with an open, oddly vulnerable expression.
"Yes," he said, his voice a bit hoarse. "Yes, that makes perfect sense to me, Deana." He cleared his throat again and offered her a slight smile. "More than you might realize."
"Oh? You mean—" Deana ran their conversation back through her mind, and a warmth spread through her chest as she realized what he was saying. She beamed, the sheer relief of being understood leaving her feeling strangely light. "Oh."
"Indeed." He nodded at her in acknowledgement, and picked up his cup and took a slow sip of tea. She kept grinning at him until he finally ducked his head, surveying the board.
"Um, it's your move, Uncle Lucian," Deana reminded him after he'd been contemplating the pieces with no particular sense of urgency for a long while. She picked up a cookie and took a bite.
"Yes, of course." He moved a flanking pawn forward, and Deana responded in turn before finishing her cookie. She realized she was settling into the rhythm of the game, starting to feel more confident in her choices.
"Six years ago, you would have started harping on me about the weaknesses in my pawn structure by now," she observed idly as she watched his gaze flicker from piece to piece.
"Six years ago you were still very much a beginner. Your play has developed enough now that I trust that when you make a move that goes against conventional wisdom, you have your reasons for it." Lucian captured a pawn with a knight, setting it down to the side of the board in one decisive motion. "Even if those reasons are not immediately apparent to me."
He leaned back in his chair again, running a hand over his beard as he gave her another appraising look.
"Perhaps you can shed some light on something I'm still a bit unclear on," he said, as Deana popped the last bite of cookie into her mouth. "You seem drawn back to Holsord. I had initially surmised it was out of a desire to be closer to Ms. Circas, but since I clearly misread that situation, I find myself wondering what you are thinking. Do you really want to move?"
"It just…feels like where I'm meant to be," Deana said, frowning down at the board. Lucian had left his other knight vulnerable, and after scrutinizing the situation from every angle, she couldn't see any obvious traps. "We left when I was twelve, but before that it was the only home I'd ever known. I wanted to move back for university — you know, I had the scores to get into IMU or Kingshill."
"I know you did."
"But I knew Mom would hate it." Deana blew out a frustrated breath. "She'd never say anything, but I couldn't be the one to put that stress on her, not with Franc already thousands of miles away. I settled for Deyr as a compromise to at least get out of Lachaven for a while — plus Carol was already set on going there because of their history program." She went ahead and captured the black knight, replacing it with her bishop and setting it down at the side of the board. Lucian inclined his head in acknowledgement, the corner of his mouth turning up briefly.
"Holsord can be a painful place for your mother," he said. "Do you understand? She wanted you safely out of the capital."
"Yeah." Deana took a deep breath. "Yes, of course I understand. I can't imagine what it would be like to go what you both went through, when my dad…" The pieces on the board started to swim before her eyes, and she looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink away the sudden tears that were threatening to spill over.
"Deana…" Lucian reached toward his pocket, but she waved him off, leaning over to pluck a tissue from the box on the end table.
"God, I haven't cried about Papa in years," she admitted, dabbing at her eyes.
"You're under a lot of pressure right now and this is a rather emotionally fraught conversation," Lucian said quietly. "It's perfectly understandable." He captured another pawn, then folded his hands, waiting patiently as Deana composed herself.
"It's not that I hate Lachaven, or even my job," she said, giving her eyes a fierce swipe before crumpling the tissue and stuffing it in the pocket of her cardigan. "It's just not what I want. I want to actually be in the government, like you and my dad and Ms. Morgna." She sat up straight, squaring her shoulders. "Maybe even become an MP myself one day. You're probably going to say I have plenty of time, I'm too young to even—"
"You're not too young," Lucian cut her off. He was now looking right at her, his gaze sharply focused in a way she hadn't seen from him before, as he were measuring her up. "At your age I was — well. It was a different time. But no, you aren't too young." He drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully.
"Carol and I started talking about it last year, while we were finishing up at university," she said. "How we were both in this incredibly unique position to make a real impact in Sordish politics due to who our fathers were and…and what happened to them." The tears threatened to well up again, and Deana swallowed hard.
Lucian nodded along as she spoke, looking eager. "Yes, absolutely. The public loves a good story, and the one you two share is powerful." His hand twitched toward his inner jacket pocket, where she knew he kept the little notebook he carried everywhere, but he stopped, lacing his fingers together in his lap instead. "Is this move into politics something the two of you are seriously considering?"
"Carol definitely is," Deana replied. "That's why she moved back to Holsord after graduation. She's so smart about politics, Uncle Lucian, she honestly reminds me of you." Lucian's lips quirked up in a brief smile in acknowledgement of the compliment. "But she's come to the conclusion that she'd be more suited to a behind-the-scenes role. She thinks — she thinks that I could —" Deana broke off, and fixed her gaze on the board. "I'm sorry, I know it's my move —" She reached out toward the board and Lucian's quiet voice stopped her.
"Deana." She looked up from the board again. "If this is what you truly want, to move back to Holsord and start working toward a career in politics, I would be happy — even honored — to help. Obviously, I still have many connections —"
"No," Deana cut in reflexively, "I told you I wasn't going to use my name —"
"If I may finish." He arched an eyebrow pointedly and she fell quiet, chewing her lower lip. "I'm not talking about installing you in a Cabinet position here. Just using my decades of experience in public service to help you find a good fit. You'd start at the bottom, like anyone else." He searched her face, and went on, his lecturing tone softening. "Your reluctance to trade on your name is commendable, but it is your name to use. If your aim is to truly make your mark in Sordish politics, you need to use every tool at your disposal — while maintaining plausible deniability that you would ever do such a thing, naturally." He smirked. "Despite what people may claim in an opinion poll, there's a lot of appeal to a political dynasty."
"I —" Deana hesitated. Obviously, Lucian's guidance here could be invaluable, and it was true that there was no escaping the weight that the name Rayne carried in Sordland. "Maybe you're right." She looked back down at the board, still running through the best moves for the situation. Lucian was playing more aggressively than he ever had in her teen years and the center of the board was congested with pieces. She reached out a hand for her bishop, and then pulled it back. "Carol has been suggesting I move in with her while we figure out what we want to do. But we lived together for four years, and…well, she's my best friend in the world, but her social life is, um, active."
Lucian winced a little. "I quite understand." He sat quietly for a moment, as if he was contemplating something. "I have plenty of room in my house," he said finally. "If you want a place to stay, until you get on your feet." She jerked her head up to stare at him, but his eyes were on the board.
"You would do that for me?" she asked, afraid she'd heard him wrong. "I know how much you value your privacy."
He smiled slightly, still looking down. "You'll find there's very little I wouldn't do for your family. And I believe our temperaments are compatible enough that you would make an unobjectionable housemate."
"But…what about Mom?" she asked, her voice faltering. "If there is…something wrong, she's going to need me here with her. How could I be so selfish, to go running off to Holsord on a whim when she could be…" She trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Lucian looked up again.
"Deana, listen to me." His tone was firm. "First, we don't know that there's even anything to worry about at this point. But if there is, you won't be alone. We'll deal with it." He put his hand over hers for a brief moment, the pressure warm and comforting. "It's only a couple hours journey by train from Holsord to Lachaven these days, after all." He let go of her hand and leaned back, taking a sip of his tea.
"I forgot about the train," Deana mused. "I suppose I could take that back and forth if I need to." Lucian shot her an incredulous look.
"Yes, I suppose you could," he said dryly, setting his cup down. "How very gratifying to know that the massive infrastructure project that had me spending half of 1955 in meetings with the management of the SSC and Gus Manger —" a pained look crossed his face "— has had such a lasting impact on the public consciousness."
"No, no, I'm sorry," Deana said with a wince. "Of course loads of people ride the L-1 every day. Mom has just always been so nervous about that sort of thing — I know it's ridiculous."
Lucian's expression softened immediately. "It's not ridiculous at all. Mrs. Rayne has every reason to be cautious, I would never fault her for that. But at some point, Deana, you're going to have to be comfortable with asserting what's right for you. Whether or not you decide to take this step, you will have my unwavering support — but you are the one the who has to make that decision, not your mother, not Ms. Circas, and not me."
"I know that," Deana whispered. "I do, its just —"
"Leaving all that aside," Lucian interrupted, his voice low and intense, "Monica Rayne has spent her career fighting for young women — for you, Deana — to have the opportunities that her generation didn't. Do you really think she'd want you to give up on your ambitions before you've even started?" He held her gaze for a long moment, waiting.
Finally, Deana nodded.
"You're right. Let's do it." She reached her hand out across the chessboard and Lucian shook it firmly. "I'll tell Mom about it tonight. After dinner."
"Very good." He looked very satisfied. "I can stay for that discussion, if you'd like the moral support."
"Well…" Deana was torn — she supposed the more mature approach would be to handle it herself, but she knew how much her mother trusted Lucian's judgment. "That's probably not a bad idea. Thank you, Uncle Lucian." He gave her a crisp nod.
"And now," he reminded her, inclining his head toward the board, "we have a chess match that requires our attention. It's still your move."
"You're absolutely right," Deana said, and slid her queen across the board in a smooth, decisive move, putting Lucian's king in check. She folded her arms across her chest, and leaned back in her chair, not bothering to hide her smug smile.
Lucian's eyes lit up, and he leaned forward.
"A very bold move indeed, Ms. Rayne," he intoned, rather dramatically, and Deana had to stifle another giggle. "But have you considered all the ramifications of—"
The door to the apartment swung open, and Deana's mother came through laden with bags bearing the logo of the Hotel Antacea's swanky rooftop Qinali restaurant.
"Good news!" she announced brightly, as Lucian and Deana jumped up in unison to help her. "Not only did we get everything sorted out in just a few minutes, they insisted on comping me dinner for the trouble. I said it wasn't necessary, and that I had hungry people at home waiting for me, and well —" She gestured with one of the bags, which Lucian took out of her hands smoothly.
"Qinali food sounds perfect," Deana said, pushing the chessboard carefully to the end of the table as Lucian started pulling containers of food from the bags. A spicy aroma filled the air, and Deana realized that despite having polished off an entire plate of cookies, she was still ravenous.
"You don't know how happy it makes me to see the two of you bent over the chessboard together again." Deana saw her mother place a hand on Lucian's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and his eyes closed for just a moment as he leaned into her touch. "I hope you'll have time to finish your game after dinner."
"We might need to put it on hold, actually," Deana said, glancing at Lucian, who gave her a tiny nod of reassurance. "There's something I need to tell you about. Something kind of exciting."
"Oh?" Her mother looked over at her and smiled, warm and encouraging, and Deana felt a rush of affection at the feeling of being the focus of so much love. "Good news, I hope?"
"Yeah," Deana said, leaning over to kiss her mother's cheek. "Yeah, I think it is."
--end--