Roots and Oxygen

Chapter 4 - Conspicuous Plant

He put the plant back on his desk and flopped onto his covers, falling asleep on top of his silk duvet, basked in what little light the crescent moon brought in through his tall windows.

Morning came equally as fast, waking Sage with a sharp sound from his alarm. He grumbled and reached over to blindly switch it off, only to get a handful of soil. His head shot up so fast, his neck cracked. "What the fuck," he mumbled, staring at the house plant he had left elsewhere.

"Morning!" a familiar voice said from the far end of his room.

Sage's head snapped in that direction, meeting the amused eyes of his brother Oxley. "What the fuck."

"Just making sure you're not late for breakfast otherwise mum might actually kill you this time and trust me, I do not want your crown."

Sage sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning into the hand that wasn't covered in soil. "Stop moving my plant."

"What?"

"And get out so I can get dressed."

"Still no Valet?"

"No, but I'm interviewing one today."

"You're interviewing one?"

"Yes," Sage said, pausing to point at the door. "Out."

"Why are you interviewing one?"

"Can you blame me that my trust in valets is a little . . . low? I want to meet them first."

"Who is it? That got arranged fast."

Sage sighed and started rummaging through random drawers until he found his black mourning clothes. "Mrs Beecham knew someone."

Oxley scoffed and shook his head. "See you downstairs." He left and Sage showered quickly, dressing in black trousers, a long-sleeved black top, and a smart fitted blazer. He checked himself in the mirror, wanting to run a hand through his dark curls, but for once, his hair was not frizzy from the heat of the steam from his shower, so he fought against it and hurried from his quarters.

He passed familiar faces who bowed to him before scurrying on with their tasks. Sage didn't slow down his march until he was on the long corridor leading to the dining room. Two guards dressed in gold uniforms straightened up when he approached them. They bowed and opened the carved double doors of Devil's Ivy leaves in a tight circle. Devil's Ivy was a distant generations symbol of strength, the plant that suffocated the palace's outer walls, and the same thing that sage currently kept in his bedroom.

His breakfast was as boring as ever, but at least he wasn't late. His father talked about mourning Patrick in front of the servants, so it seemed like they were thinking of him often. His mother tried not to look inconvenienced by his funeral, but there was some truth to her sad dark eyes.

Patrick had been a nice man once, but one act of cruelty turned into a thousand more, and he had lost himself in bad intentions. Sage's earliest memory of the man was his hand smacking Oxley's cheek for asking too many questions.

From that day on, Sage and Oxley stuck together.

"Sage says he's interviewing for his next valet himself," Oxley said loudly.

Sage stared with blank hazel eyes. He loved his brother when he wasn't using him as a topic of interest, diverting their parents from the fact that Oxley was always up to something that was a bit too risky for a prince, like climbing over the garden fence and prancing around the city with a hood up and sunglasses.

Sage would never snitch on him unless Oxley had been particularly annoying that day.

"I beg your pardon!" his father scoffed, looking up with cold blue eyes. "Sage, is that true?"

Sage shrugged and crossed his arms. "All my royal engagements are postponed until further notice. I need a valet, so why not choose him myself and get this over and done with."

His father struggled to argue back, so of course, he turned to his wife. "Marigold, your thoughts?"

The Queen was already staring quizzically at Sage. "Fine, do what you wish if you think it'll speed things up. Once the funeral is out of the way, and we get to the bottom of what Patrick was up to, you'll need to throw yourself hard into your duties to catch up."

Sage nodded, not expecting her to let him run the interviews. Well, Sage was interviewing just one person who didn't have any of the recommended skills, but they didn't have to know that. "Speaking of interviews, I must go, or I'll keep them waiting."

"Good luck!" Oxley said with a grin. "Choose wisely or it might be yourself that they sell on eBay."

His parents found the remark funnier than Sage.

He picked up his pace and stormed down the long corridors. The weather outside was drearily  grey and wet. He had to interview the new valet in the garden shed. Mrs Beecham said it was the best place for something that had to be kept a secret.

He was a little nervous as he ran through the rain, covering his curls with a raised arm. Sage had no questions to ask, and his lack of preparation became apparent when he stormed into the shed and stared at an unfamiliar man who lounged on a stool with his chin propped on the palm of his hand.

The first thing Sage noticed about him was his green nail varnish and his average clothes, blue jeans and a deep purple jumper that were a little baggy on him. He was as prepared for the interview as Sage, so the Prince could hardly complain.

Still, he kept his guard up, straightened out his blazer and outstretched a hand towards him. The man stood slowly, almost feebly. He was as tall as Sage, not bowing when their hands touched, and not diverting his gaze either.

Sage would have looked away first, if he were used to people behaving in such a way. But he was Prince Sage Green, next in line to be king. Nobody made him feel inferior.

Mrs Beecham nudged the man and his head tilted forwards an inch, and his blond hair briefly touched the lashes to his bright green eyes. "Your Royal Highness," he said deeply.

Sage took his hand back, a little unnerved by the way the man's smile was so close to a smirk. The prince's eyes darted to Mrs Beecham and she nudged the blond man again who frowned at her elbow digging into his ribs.

This time, he said with annoyance, "My name is Taro Vinea, and I am applying for your Valet role."