It was approaching midnight when Oerei at last pulled off his boots on the doormat of his residence. From the doorway of the bedroom he could already tell Ren’i was fast asleep on the bedspread, small face buried in the fur of his stuffed horse. He gave no reaction whatsoever to the faint creaking of the door.
Ruan sighed. ”My apologies, your highness. I had no luck with getting him to agree to go to bed by himself. That’s where he passed out in the end.”
”It’s not your fault.”
”I did try to explain to him that there was no need to wait for you, but you know what he’s like when he’s in one of his moods.”
Ren’i was clutching his favourite toy tightly even in his sleep, as though afraid someone would try and steal it from him, and Oerei felt another pang of guilt. Constant blizzards had blocked off all roads from Kara to Hol Saro so thoroughly that it was damn near a miracle the weather hadn’t delayed the journey by more than two days, but two days were still a small eternity for a seven-year-old’s concept of time.
Oerei stepped over the threshold, feeling wet snow sliding beneath the collar. Ren’i made a noise in his sleep, his side rising and falling slowly.
”Is there anything else you require, highness?” Ruan asked.
”I think I’ll manage myself. Just you go and rest,” Oerei replied, then added, ”thanks for looking after him.”
”That’s what I’m here for.” Ruan flashed him a weary smile and bowed lightly. ”Call for me should you be in need of help.”
She locked the doors to the residence quietly as she left.
Oerei sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked at Ren’i’s messy ginger hair. He’d fallen asleep on Oerei’s side of the bed, refusing to even crawl under the covers for warmth. The fact that his eyes were rimmed with red was a sure sign he’d cried himself to sleep; the mere thought tore at Oerei’s heart, and he cursed the senate with its demands all the way to hell in his mind.
It was equally difficult for both of them, the separation, and the long distances of the north did nothing to ease the burden.
Ren’i whined again, rubbed his eyes with a fist, and parted his eyelids ever so slightly upon feeling a hand still caressing his head. ”Dad?”
Oerei smiled at his bleary voice. ”Yeah. I’m home.”
”Where were you?” Ren’i’s tone bordered on accusatory.
”Forgive me. The carriage got stuck in the snow and I was forced to make the rest of the journey on horseback.” Oerei brushed a lock of hair off his son’s forehead and asked, ”are you mad?”
Ren’i nodded, lips pursed. ”You promised.”
”I did. I’m sorry I made you wait.”
He did not deign to even glance towards Oerei, staring mulishly at his stuffed toy instead and clutching it against his chest like a lifeline. His green eyes filled with tears once more. ”You promised,” he repeated.
”I’m here now,” Oerei said, knowing full well that it changed nothing. ”Can I still get a hug?”
He’d half-expected the boy to continue pouting, but Ren’i sat up in such a hurry that the toy rolled off the bed. He climbed on Oerei’s lap without a second’s hesitation, let himself be held against his father’s chest, and burst into tears again as he wound his small arms around Oerei’s neck.
”Shh. You’re all right,” Oerei spoke soothingly in his ear. ”Did you miss me that much?”
Ren’i hiccoughed, nodded again, and Oerei regretted every single day in the past three weeks. The boy was timid for his age and Oerei did not willingly spend the night away from home, away from him. He could not always help it; some of his senator’s duties were such that could not be handled from Hol Saro alone. That he’d finally succeeded in persuading Karanese senators for the remaining signatures he needed for the amendment that he’d spent the better part of the past four years preparing was not enough to ease his sense of guilt, either. It was poor compensation for the suffering his child endured in his absence.
”I missed you, too,” Oerei said quietly, patting Ren’i’s back.
Sniffle. ”I could have come with.”
Oerei wanted to smile. It was not the first time Ren’i had brought up the same suggestion. ”You will get to, once you’re a little older. It takes nearly seven days just to get there, you understand?”
Ren’i’s lower lip quivered. ”I’m a big boy already!”
This time Oerei could not stop himself from smiling. ”That you are. Let’s think about this again once I’ve the need to head out next. I promise I won’t be going anywhere for a long time,” he said.
That promise would hold. He’d tell the senate and the empress as much the next day and make sure they got the point.
Ren’i said nothing, just let out the sob he’d been holding back when Oerei kissed his tear-streaked cheek.
Oerei spoke in calm tones while Ren’i sniffled, just holding him close. He already knew from experience that the boy needed to cry until the tears were done, and when Ren’i finally collected himself his cheeks were just as ruddy as his eyes. Oerei pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead and wiped his face dry with his own handkerchief.
”There, there,” Oerei said. ”Have you eaten dinner yet?”
”Yeah.” Ren’i took the handkerchief from him and blew his nose. ”Can I sleep here tonight?”
”Of course you can.” Oerei ruffled his hair. ”Now go get your nightclothes while I put out the candles, all right?”
Nothing but glowing embers were left of the flames in the fireplace once Oerei had washed and gotten changed out of his damp travelling clothes into something more comfortable. Ren’i sat on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs, the stuffed toy once more on his lap as Oerei shut the door to the backroom.
”You could have lain down already,” he said with some amusement, noting that Ren’i had pulled on his nightshirt backwards. He decided not to mention it.
”I’m not tired yet.” Ren’i’s eyes bore into the worn out rucksack hanging at the back of the chair. A small puddle had formed under it during the time it had taken for Oerei to be done in the bathroom. ”So did you find any new books in Kara?”
”I did. Would you like to see?” Ren’i’s eyes shone with sudden excitement. He was already about to leap off the bed when Oerei laughed and said, ”get under the covers now, son. I’ll read you a couple of chapters from one of them, on the condition that we both lie down.”
Ren’i’s expression soured at once. ”Already?”
”It’s almost one o’clock. I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely getting tired.”
He sighed in the weary tones of one put through an act of great injustice. ”All right.”
Oerei felt a curious pair of eyes glued to his back the entire time while he opened the rucksack and dug out the souvenirs. He’d taken care to keep the books in the bag he’d received them in, then wrapped them once more with a waterproof cloth to shield them from the unpredictable winter conditions. It was still a relief to see they hadn’t suffered on the road; the covers were just cold to the touch. He selected a picture book filled with Karanese fairystories from the selection, leaving the rest on a sidetable, and made his way to the bed, book under his arm.
He doused all other candles except the one inside the lantern on the night-stand and arranged his biggest pillows as a backrest before sitting down. He lifted his arm just enough that Ren’i could crawl under it and pulled the covers over their legs.
”What does that say?” Ren’i asked, curiously staring at the cover illustration depicting a warrior in old-fashioned asari armour astride a chestnut horse.
”’Collected fairytales of Old Kara’,” Oerei replied. He smiled as Ren’i traced the raised, gilded letters of the title with his index finger. ”All right, listen carefully.”
”Does it have any pictures?”
”Naturally. You’ll see in a bit.”
The stories weren’t more than a few pages in length, but Ren’i’s eyes started shutting only halfway through the third one, a tale of a foolish taivashi merchant and his three shrewd empty-blooded assistants. Ren’i yawned ever so often, and Oerei knew that he was trying to force himself to stay awake even as the late hour was taking its toll on him. Paper rustled as Oerei flipped the page.
”’Then, as the autumn’s morning dawned, the good old merchant Merr’in nailed a new sign by the door, sporting four names instead of one, but the people of Väerre knew whose hands truly held the reins in the shop: the wily Vremmy, a haggler unlike any born in living asari memory; the nifty Nienjadel, whose merjil eyes let no foul play go unnoticed; and the incredible Inkhai, of whose bargaining skills stories were still told many human lifetimes after. And so business boomed, all four lived agreeably in comfort ’till the very end of their days, and there was never a better markethouse in Väerre ever since’,” Oerei finished his reading.
He stole a glance at Ren’i from the corner of his eye and closed the book quietly. The boy was sleeping with his mouth open, wheezing silently with every breath, and a trail of drool had left a damp spot on the front of Oerei’s nightshirt.
He transported Ren’i on his own side of the bed and tucked him in, careful not to wake him. He merely grumbled when Oerei kissed his forehead.
”Sweet dreams, little one,” Oerei whispered.
He doused the lantern, listened to the familiar beat of his son’s steady breathing as he closed his eyes, and felt he’d come home at last.
In the loving memory of my father (1959-2023). Miss you always.