Zan turned and saw his sister standing the doorway. “Is it time?” he asked. He didn’t look like a man who was about to get married. His eyes were sad, almost vacant and it looked like he hadn’t smiled in years.

“No, not yet,” Vilandra said turning to close the door behind her. She walked over to her brother concerned about him. “Zan, are you okay?”

Zan looked at his sister for a minute and then turned to look out the window again. “It’s a beautiful day isn’t it?”

Vilandra watched her brother. He was obviously thinking of Arya. “Yes it is.”

“Do you think Father can see us? Do you think he’s happy with the way things have turned out?”

“Zan,” Vilandra whispered. “Please don’t.”

Zan looked at his sister. “I can’t help it. I know what I have to do, but…”

“She’s gone and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Zan stood up and walked over to the desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a metal frame which Vilandra knew contained an image of Arya. “Have you seen Avadia today?”

“Yes, I was helping her get ready. She’s now with her parents. They are doing the traditional pre-ceremonial entreaty in their families.”

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Marrying her even though I know I can never love her the way she deserves to be loved.”

“Why are you thinking about this now?” Vilandra asked getting up and walking over to her brother.

“Why not?” Zan turned to his sister still holding the frame. “I’m about to marry a young girl I barely know so I can provide an heir to the throne. She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into. I wooed her because she came from the right family, the family my father wanted me to marry into.”

“Zan, Arya made her choice.”

“She made her choice? She had no choice. I couldn’t marry her because our father told her that if I did, he would be forced to disown me and that would cause chaos and we would surely lose the war.”

“He was right. We would lose the war without you.”

“We may still lose the war sister,” Zan said slowly. He looked down at the picture of Arya. “Her sacrifice was too big Vilandra. She left me too early.”

Vilandra watched as her brother walked to the window again. He looked out over the palace grounds and beyond into the capital city.

“Do you remember that bedtime story Mother used to tell us? The one about our core or soul.”

“Not really.”

“I do,” Zan paused. “It’s an old story, a myth really about the place where souls are created. A soul is created and then split into two parts. Each half is given life and during their life the souls search for their other half. If for some reason a soul is unable to be with it’s other half, the souls are reborn to try again.”

“It’s a nice story.”

“Yeah, it is,” Zan said absently.

“Zan, you have duties to attend to.”

“I know,” Zan turned and smiled at his sister, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Go tell Mother I will be down in a minute.”

Vilandra nodded and left him alone.

Zan looked once again at the image of the other half of his soul. “I will find you again Arya and in that life we will find a way to be together.”