Roots and Oxygen

Chapter 15 - Perplexing Pothos

Sage left with the purple pot against his chest. Just like before, the leaves that touched his wrists flattened against him, or tried to wrap around his fingers. Sage put it on his bedside table and sat next to it for a while.

He simply stared. Mrs Beecham knew more than what she was telling him, and Sage would keep pressing until he knew exactly what was wrong with the plant. He should have questioned it more when she told him to water it every four hours.

When the rain stopped hitting the window, Sage tore himself away from the plant and rummaged around his room for a raincoat, just in case the weather changed on him again.

He was close to calling up Taro to help him look, until he found it in the cupboard by his door. He pulled out a thin green weatherproof jacket and pulled it over his head. Something gold caught his eye as he rammed his sleeves through it.

Sage moved the other coats on the wrack to see a Valet's uniform folded on the floor next to his boots. He frowned and checked the tag. Taro Vinea was sewn into it. Sage knew the servants put names on everything as some uniforms were tailored to fit, especially those who worked closely with the Royals.

He made a note to question Taro later and continued on his way to the gardens. Breathing in fresh air for hours helped clear his foggy thoughts. Sage talked a lot about Mrs Beecham's life, what she was up to out of work hours, what she planned to do on the weekend, what she wanted to cook for dinner, and why other gardeners were getting on her nerves.

As usual, they barely spoke about Sage and his life, mainly because Sage was so careful about sharing too much with those outside of his immediate family. Taro knows. Sage grimaced and grabbed a fistful of soil. He planted the last flower and patted the soil around it hard enough to attract attention.

"Something on your mind?" Mrs Beecham asked, wiping her hands.

"Nope." Sage forced a smile, and the gardener shook her head with a scoff, as she always did when Sage was keeping in his frustrations.

"Well, at least tell someone about your problems or they'll burst out of you." She struggled to her feet after an evening of kneeling in the dirt. "You're dismissed, gardener Sage. Go and get something warm for your dinner. It's getting cold out here."

Sage flattened any thought of Taro Vinea and hurried inside. If he didn't stress about his Valet, he stressed about the plant. If he didn't stress about the plant, he stressed about Uncle Patrick's murderer. If he didn't stress about that, then he stressed about the press and what they were saying about him, which reminded him that Taro Vinea knew his biggest secret, and then Sage would start all over again.

I need to speak with him.

Sage jogged to his bedroom and hit the buzzer. When Taro arrived, Sage asked, "Did I hit the wrong buzzer?"

Taro paused with a tray of hot tea. "No, but the other staff were saying that you were in the garden all evening. It's cold today."

"Oh." Sage watched him with an opening and closing mouth. "Thank you." Taro poured tea into a cup, but there were two on the tray. "Do you want some?"

"No. I drink only water, like that plant of yours." Taro's eyes flicked to the bedside table.

Sage turned, but it wasn't there. "I forgot to water it." He sighed and slumped onto the couch by his window. "Did you take it?"

Taro gave him his tea and Sage didn't realise how cold he felt until his hands wrapped the warm mug. "Should I run you a bath or something?" Taro asked with eyes flicking him up and down.

Sage was covered in mud from his knees down, with some in his coat and a smudge on the side of his jaw. He had washed his hands, but dirt still clung under his fingernails. "That's probably best, I can't go to dinner in this state."

Taro disappeared into his bathroom and Sage thought endlessly about the right words to choose. He wanted to double check that Taro understood the seriousness of his secret. How could he word it without sounding like a scared fool? But I am scared. I'm not ready for the entire world to know. "Mister Vinea," he called out. The valet appeared by the door with a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap.

"One of the servants told me that when you bathe, I should offer to wash your hair. Do I really have to offer you that or...?"

"I think they're playing a joke on you. I only ask for a towel once I'm done."

"Right." Taro's eyes darkened and he disappeared inside the bathroom.

"Mister Vinea," Sage called again. The valet once again appeared. "I have to talk with you."

"Oh?" Taro smirked. "Am I on the Royal naughty list?"

Sage sipped his tea with a judging stare and Taro's smirk dipped. "I find myself thinking about the conversation we had the other day."

"About your not so straight situation?"

Sage's eyes lowered. "I don't like that you know. I'm anxious about it all the time. I know it's bad of me to assume that you'll immediately use it against me, but I barely know you, and I just figured that if I talked to you about my concerns, it would make me feel less freaked out."

Taro's hands had linked while he spoke, and his face had softened. "Yes, I'm a stranger to you, but I have absolutely nothing to gain by telling others your secret. As another not so straight person, I understand how big this is for you, and how shitty it would be of me to yank you out of that closet you're buried so far into. So, I repeat, yes, I'm a stranger, but you have my word that I will not do anything that would cause you pain in your already crappy Prince life."

Sage's eyebrows had risen. "My crappy Prince life?"

"Yeah. Seems boring to me. What do you even do all day apart from moping in your room and helping the gardener? Oh, and having fancy dinners with the Queen."

"That Queen is my mother. And how do you know I mope in my room all day?"

Taro shrugged.

Sage followed him into the bathroom. "My life gets very busy. You'll see that when things return to normal."

"Why is it not normal now?"

"I'm sure you've heard about Uncle Patrick in the papers. He was murdered, therefore I'm not the safest Royal right now. I'm on house arrest until further notice." Sage only told him what the tabloids had told everyone else.

"Any news on the murderer?" Taro asked, turning off the taps.

"Not yet." The murderer was another Royal. What the hell was Patrick up to?

"Is your bath hot enough?" Taro asked, changing the subject.

Sage was anxiously digging the dirt from underneath his nails. Thinking about Patrick churned his stomach. "Yes. I'll need a shower to rinse off after I'm done with my bath." Taro bowed his head and strode through the room. "Mister Vinea," Sage said before he shut the bathroom door. "I think I'm ready to give you a permanent spot in the Palace. That's not because you know certain things about me, but because I value the efforts you've made this week. If you're happy to accept a full-time position, I'll tell Osier tomorrow."

Taro's smirk returned. "I'd love to accept. But are you sure? Even when I'm trying, I know I'm not the best Valet you could have."

He's not the best, but he's not tiptoeing around me and stumbling over his unbearable politeness. "I'm sure," he said with a small smile.