Roots and Oxygen

Chapter 6 - Buttons of Exoticism

Sage smiled. "I wanted a young Valet. His incompetence was my consequence. I'm sure he's as eager as he says he is." Sage then noticed the absence of his plant. He checked his watch and assumed the cleaner had taken the plant for some water. "Good night Osier. you don't need to assist Mister Vinea in the morning. He'll make mistakes and I'll be patient."

"Very good Sir. I'll be sure to remind him of how kind you are to give him such a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Sage waited until the butler left his room to crack a grin. Osier was very proud of the family he served, and proud of the job he owned. Sage should have known that he wouldn't question where Taro Vinea had come from. Sage wouldn't have been able to tell him if he asked. He knew very little about the man training to be his valet.

A little while later, after Sage was tucked up in bed, he heard a thump against his bedroom door. The plant had been on his mind for a while. Sage almost muttered to himself to stop thinking about it. He was a Prince, surely, he had more pressing things to think about, like his uncle's murder.

Sage hurried through his room and peeked into the corridor. He looked left, then right. The only thing that accompanied him was the plant left by his feet. "Ah, there you are," he said quietly, bending to pick it up.

He placed it on his desk and turned the purple pot back and forth, looking at the roots and inspecting the two new leaves that had sprouted since he had last seen it. Maybe you do prefer drinking water.

Sage relaxed back into bed now that the plant returned. He didn't wake until the curtains were opened at 7am. He didn't move in his silk sheets, waiting for his valet to announce his late presence.

Sage laid still until a hand roughly shoved his shoulder. He shot his head up and met very bright green eyes staring down at him. "Don't wake me like that," Sage mumbled, shuffling back until his shoulder blades touched the headboard.

"How else am I supposed to wake you?" Taro asked.

Sage frowned as the morning sun spilled into his bedroom. "Announce that it's time to get up. If that doesn't work, then you can shove me." He yawned and rubbed his face as Taro stood next to his bed. Their eyes connected. Sage felt the awkwardness rising. "Punctuality is also very important."

"You wanted Tea. How do I get it?"

Sage sighed heavier than intended. "Don't let Osier hear you addressing me informally."

"Oh, Sir."

"About the tea, I'll ring for some." Sage hopped out of bed and pressed a button by his bedside table. "Has someone come to get the Devil's Ivy plant?" he asked, noting its absence on his desk at the other side of his long room. He observed that Taro now fitted the golden suit much better than yesterday. He also noticed how Taro was no longer lanky, but he carried more muscle than he did the night before. Moonlight is never flattering.

"Yes. I gave it to a cleaner."

"Good. I forgot to water it through the night. Mrs Beecham won't be pleased." Sage had been formal in the interview, but Taro was now ridged and hard eyed. Sage had to soften the tension somehow. "How do you know Mrs Beecham?" Sage motioned for Taro to follow him into the bathroom.

"She's a friend to my mother," Taro said, running a hand under the tap.

Sage cleared his throat.

"Oh, Sir." Taro then sighed. "Is running a bath really so hard for you?"

"Excuse me?"

Taro stood and rolled his sleeve back down. "Your brother Oxley doesn't have a Valet."

"No, he doesn't."

"Why?"

"That's no business of yours, Mister Vinea." Sage left him to fill the bath and drank his tea with a frown. Having a valet centuries ago was acquired with such fancy clothing. Back then, a man or a woman needed help dressing. Valet's existed where wealth and reputation thrived.

Times had certainly changed, but not the monarchy. Their rules were the pillars that stopped them from crumbling. The public loved how traditional they still were. They might laugh at him and his ridiculous policies, but at least their monarchy was still fighting strong.

Sage had a feeling that Taro Vinea would disagree.

"Your bath is ready," a deep voice said from the doorway.

Sage rose from his chair. "I'm still in mourning, I'll need a black outfit for when I'm ready."

Taro's face warped into sorrow. His eyes dropped to the floor and he linked fingers behind his back. "Alright."

"Your Grace."

"Really?"

"No, it's Your Royal Highness."

"When do I address you as that?"

"In front of others, but Sir will do most of the time."

Taro looked a little perplexed as he pushed blond hair from his eyes.

"You'll get there eventually, I hope." Sage shut himself in the bathroom and added hot water to the barely warm bath.

When he returned to the bedroom with a towel around his waist, Taro had laid his clothes on the bed. "Did you find everything easily enough?" he asked, turning towards Taro who was rather shamelessly staring at Sage's chest. Sage straightened up immediately, shocked. "Mister Vinea," he rebuked.

Taro's eyes raised to meet his. "Your socks are in a weird place... Sir."

Sage quickly stood behind his changing wall and put on black underwear. He paused for a moment, hesitant to step out in front of those bright green eyes. "You can move them to somewhere more accessible if you wish." He put on black socks and stepped out, looking to see if Taro was watching.

The trainee valet had enough sense to divert his eyes and stop leaning against the wall before Sage scolded him on professionalism. "I will. I had to look for ages to find them."

"I had the same problem." Sage wore smart black jeans and latched his black leather belt. Taro held up a shirt and Sage slipped arms into the sleeves. The man returned to his front, unsure on what to do next. "There's a box of cufflinks in the right drawer of my desk. I would like the gold ones with the black crystals in the middle."

Taro got the ones he asked for and held them out. Instead of taking them, Sage held out his arm. Taro's blank face showed little but disinterest. Sage was tempted to ask why Mrs Beecham wanted him to get the Valet role when Taro quite obviously didn't want the job.

"We're fond of loyalty," he said instead, lifting his other arm. "We expect staff to work for us until they retire. Osier has worked for us for fifty years. He's more like a friend at times. Do you see yourself working here for that long?"

The muscles in Taro's sharp jaw tensed as he ground his teeth. "If I get the job, Sir."

Sage was about to guide Taro to another drawer to pick out a black tie, but the man stepped close and started buttoning up Sage's shirt. He stood so close that his knuckles grazed Sage's stomach.

The Prince could only freeze. Usually his Valet buttoned up the last few buttons by his neck and fitted his ties or bow ties. Buttoning from the bottom felt too... intimate. But Sage said nothing, not even when Taro stood closer to fiddle with the last button.

He decided not to ask for a tie and threw the black jumper over his head before Taro could get to it, thankful that his pink cheeks were scarcely noticeable under his tawny skin.