The following day, Regis was released from house arrest and sent back to work. Clarus arrived in the morning, looking appropriately disapproving and Regis could hardly blame him for it. He had done a stupid thing and everyone else had nearly paid dearly for it. Other people could afford to be irresponsible now and then, but not the king and certainly never that irresponsible.
"Eat. You'll need it. When was the last time you had a meal?"
Regis took the tray of food that Clarus thrust under his nose with uncharacteristic meekness.
"I am uncertain," he admitted.
For all that Clarus had almost certainly known that already, he still made a derisive sound. He took a seat in the nearby armchair without further comment, however, and Regis was grateful for it. There was silence for a time, while Regis picked at his breakfast obediently, in spite of the fact that his stomach hadn't yet given up its protest over the previous day's treatment.
Usually when they sat in silence together it was comfortable; it was the sort of silence that followed when two people knew each other so well that there was no need for words and no obligation to say them. This silence, though, was thick and tense. There were a multitude of words that either one of them could have said but ninety percent of them wouldn't have done any good. Clarus had said enough of them, the day before, anyway; he had made it clear what he believed about Regis' lapse. Clarus thought him an incompetent, an idiot. Perhaps Regis should have apologized for his failure to meet expectations, but something told him it would do little good.
Eventually Regis gave up on his breakfast, having made it only halfway through, and cleared his throat to break the silence. Clarus didn't look at him.
"You are right, Clarus, of course. You usually are," he ventured. "I cannot afford to act in this way."
At first it seemed his friend intended not to respond. He sat still, not looking over or giving any indication that he had heard at all. If he had chosen not to, Regis would have accepted that he deserved that, too.
But at length, he did respond. "It kills me to know that you hurt so much inside that it has stripped you of all regard for yourself. My place is the King's Shield and perhaps I can protect you from yourself… but I can't stop what you're feeling. I can't shield you from that."
Regis was more than a little taken aback. So Clarus wasn't angry with him, after all, or, at the very least, not anymore.
"That is not your job," Regis said. The problems that Aulea's death were causing for him were his and his alone to battle with. There was no way he could think of putting that burden on Clarus.
"No?" Clarus looked at him at last, his expression solemn and melancholy. "Perhaps it isn't. Be that as it may, I would do so if I was able."
"Clarus…" Regis sat forward, running his hands through his messy hair. For once he was at a loss for words. What did one say to such an admission? "I… will manage it."
Clarus sighed and stood. "I know. You will persevere, as you always do—but knowing you can do it doesn't stop me from wishing you didn't need to," he said, meeting Regis' gaze. "Just—in the future—if it becomes too much to bear, please come to me instead of resorting to more desperate measures."
Regis swallowed, finding his mouth suddenly dry. It took a moment for him to gather his voice again. "I will."
Whether or not Clarus believed him, he gave a short nod and moved for the door. "I'll send someone to help you dress. Then I'll collect you for court."
He left Regis to his thoughts and to make himself presentable. True to his word, he sent Weskham with a fresh suit and all the necessaries for a well-groomed beard and head of hair.
"Is he still angry with you?" Weskham asked as he helped Regis into his formal wear.
"Clarus? No. He is merely worried." Much like Weskham and Cor and everyone else who knew anything at all about what was going on.
The look on Weskham's face said he didn't believe that even concern excused Clarus' words, but he didn't say anything else. He just continued putting Regis' suit and hair in order. When all of that was seen to, Regis did feel a little more himself. He looked a little more himself, as well.
"You have performed a miracle," Regis said, inspecting himself in the mirror.
"That's my job, Sire."
It seemed an apt description.
"Come. Let us see if we cannot find Clarus to fill in what I have missed," Regis said.
Weskham held the door open for him and fell into place half a step behind him as they moved down the hall. At least this time he had only missed one day. He hoped it would be the last day he missed on Aulea's behalf, but the ache in his chest prevented him from hoping too much.
"I believe he went to check in with the council, Sire," Weskham said.
"Then the council chamber is where we must go. There is—"
"Your Majesty!"
Regis stopped at the sound of Crea calling back from the direction they had just come. She appeared in the doorway to the nursery down the hall and motioned.
"Come quickly!"
He didn't even hesitate long enough to return the look that Weskham gave him. The look on Crea's face was excited rather than worried, but being summoned urgently to the nursery formed an anxious lump in his stomach all the same. He went, Crea retreating back through the open nursery door just before him.
Inside was a second nurse; at her feet, standing unaided, was Reina in a little purple dress.
The anxiety vanished all at once. Everything else vanished, too. He forgot about the fourth anniversary of his wedding, spent without his wife. He forgot about Clarus' harsh words from the night before. He forgot about all the work he had missed in his day abed. He forgot about the nurses standing about watching him. The only thing left was his little girl standing on her own two feet.
Regis took a knee on the nursery floor and held out his hands to her. She smiled when he crossed her line of vision and clapped her hands together once.
"Reina… come here, my darling." He held out his hands to her, waiting, hoping.
She looked at him for a moment, hands still pressed together in front of her, four little teeth still displaying in her open mouth. Then she took a step. And another. Her whole body wobbled with each step; so much effort went into moving just one leg.
Regis' breath caught in his throat. His vision blurred but, for once, it wasn't pain that brought tears.
His little princess! Walking!
They were just short of a year old and in all those months he had been preparing himself to miss every major milestone. This one, though, they had shared.
Reina's balance slipped. She stumbled and landed on her hands and knees. It wasn't very far to fall, but he had to resist the urge to lurch forward and catch her. Something held him back. He wanted to know if she would do it again.
"Come on, Little Princess," he said.
She stared at him for another moment before straightening her knees, putting her butt in the air, and somehow managing to push herself upright from that position. Instead of resorting to the more reliable mode of transportation of crawling, she took more shaky steps, one after the other, until they landed her straight in Regis' arms.
He caught her, lifting her off her feet in spite of the fact she had only just gotten up on them, and stood to spin her around. "Ah, Reina! I am so proud of you."
She laughed at the treatment. He laughed at her laughter. Something about baby laughter was contagious—except she wasn't a baby anymore.
I have a toddler, he realized.
"—Regis!"
He turned toward the door, automatically shifting to hold Reina against his chest as he found Clarus pushing past Weskham. His Shield looked more than a little flustered.
"What is it?" Regis sobered. It took considerable trouble to put that look on Clarus' face.
Clarus let out a breath, then hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Crea and the other nurse. "Apologies, Your Majesty. It's nothing to concern you; but we should be on our way."
It seemed an odd and sudden shift, but after a moment the pieces fit together in Regis' mind. The immediate concern, the hesitation—almost embarrassment—followed by an unwillingness to speak openly: all of it added up. Regis had disappeared and his faithful Shield had been worried.
Regis gave him a tight smile. While it was perfectly reasonable, considering, it was still unnecessary. The previous day's misadventure was not one he intended to repeat any time soon. He had to do better in the future.
"I was drawn by an event of the utmost importance." Regis turned and pressed a kiss to the top of his daughter's head before stooping to set her back on her feet. It took some coaxing to convince her to let go of his hands and stand on her own, but she did eventually do so. Regis looked up to behold the smile on Clarus' face.
"That is of the utmost importance," Clarus agreed.
"She walked to me. Will you show Clarus, my dear?" Regis pointed to the doorway where Clarus and Weskham were still standing. Reina looked where he gestured, a look of deep distrust on her tiny face. Then she half turned, as if to back away, stumbled, and fell against Regis' legs.
"A definitive 'no,'" Clarus said.
"What can I say? She is destined to be her father's little princess." He didn't regret it at all. In fact, he would have been more disappointed if she had gone to Clarus.
"Court, Your Majesty," Clarus reminded, though he was still smiling.
"Very well. I wish you a joyous day, my darling." Regis detached Reina from his leg and deposited her on the play mat, straightening and turning to the door. He paused when he passed Crea, giving her a grateful look. "Thank you."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
He would do better. For them.
"Let us be off, then." He turned toward the door again and accompanied Clarus and Weskham out into the hall. The nurses bid them both farewell as they departed, but even once they were out of earshot, Clarus remained conspicuously silent.
"I apologize for causing you concern," Regis said at last. "But you needn't worry. I told you I believe you are right, and I meant it. I will do better."
Clarus cast him a sideways glance, though Regis couldn't decide if it was curious or disbelieving; perhaps it was a little of each. "I was harsh yesterday, and for that I apologize," he said at last. "I hope you don't take it all to heart—of course I do not believe your children would be better off without you."
"There is nothing to apologize for," Regis said. "You are correct; they do deserve someone who will fight for them. How could I give up, with those two watching me and you all beside me?" He grasped Clarus' shoulder briefly, then Weskhams, and Clarus returned the gesture.
"As we always will be," Weskham said.
"I am certain of it," Regis said. "Now come; the kingdom awaits."