Roots and Oxygen

Chapter 43 - Veiled Veracity

I'm back bitches.

Taro stood outside of Oxley's bedroom. He stared at the painting in front of him; the canvas was large and dusty. In the painting, angels wrapped in vines sat on golden clouds. Taro wondered who had painted it, and how long it had been on that wall, and how many other paintings had decorated that space, and how old the Palace was, and whether Sage had grown up in the Palace or moved into it once his mother was crowned the Queen.

His thoughts parted when he heard raised voices from the inside of the bedroom. Sage's deep voice was a lot less defensive than Oxley's whiney one. Taro felt uncomfortable without Sage in view. Despite them growing close, he still had a job to do, and that was to protect Sage at all costs, no matter what.

Sometimes the pressure of being a Prince's personal guard made him shiver with unease. Sage had a lot of enemies. Someone had already broken into the Palace while Taro had been working there, and someone had tried to harm him in Sage's bedroom.

A lot of fear surrounded the Prince who was next in line for the throne. Taro, not so long ago, thought Sage was a snobby, narcissistic, clueless man in a fake world of ridiculous tradition and ridiculous wealth. Sage Green was in fact a kind man, but full of anxiety in a world that was changing too fast for him and his traditions. Taro had seen how the tabloids and the photographers tore him down and shaped him to be something he wasn't.

Taro cringed at the way he had so blindly believed the things he had seen about Sage when he was plastered across the front pages for yet another day. He deserves to be with me, somewhere quiet, somewhere he can be himself. Taro crossed his arms and scowled at the painting. At breakfast, he had wanted to speak his mind, but that would've gotten him fired. Sage's family so easily battered him to the floor, and Sage so easily allowed it.

If Taro had been in the Prince's position, he would've made it very clear that nobody could tell him what to do, but that was the difference between front page Sagerian, and real-life Sagerian. Tabloid Sage was a man who did as he pleased no matter who he hurt, while real-life Sage was so afraid of upsetting others that he would drown himself to keep others afloat.

The door suddenly opened behind him, and Sage stormed into his back. "Sorry," he grumbled and stomped down the corridor towards his own room. Taro followed, watching Sage's curls bounce angrily atop his head.

"What happened?" he asked when they were safely inside his bedroom with the door closed.

Sage paced back and forth a few times, rubbing fingers along his chin, and wearing the rug raw with the bottom of his shoes. "Nothing happened. Oxley wouldn't tell me anything. He said it was safer if I didn't know, and he didn't trust me enough not to go running to mum and dad. I know he was lying and just trying to upset me enough that I would storm out . . . which worked, but-" Sage gripped his curls and groaned with frustration. "Why will nobody tell me anything?"

"If you really want to know what he's hiding, just make it clear that you won't stop asking about it," Taro said, wanting to offer anything that might help Sage to calm down. "He'll tell you eventually, if you don't shut up about it."

"Or I could ask my dad what's going on." Sage stood by the window, frowning down to the garden. "I'm fed up with not knowing."

"Then show them that you don't need to be protected from this. If you want to know, do everything you can to find out the truth."

Sage then slouched and mumbled, "Maybe it would be better if I didn't know."

"Why? Can you not handle the truth?" Taro dared to ask. Sage turned to stare, the way he did when he was shocked that someone spoke to him in such a bold way. Then his posture relaxed as he accepted that Taro meant no harm. He just needs a bit of provoking sometimes.