Roots and Oxygen

Chapter 59 - Green

The first night at the farm was an anxious one. Sage tossed and turned. The fire in his room was too hot, despite the snow building up on the hills outside. Taro was in plant form on the bedside table, he transformed around an hour ago when Sage was pretending to be asleep. His thoughts raced too fast for him to keep his eyes closed for long.

He quietly peeled the duvet away, and suddenly craved cold bitter air on his skin, rather than hot stuffy air that made him uncomfortable.

He snuck from his bed, careful to step lightly on the wooden floor. Some creaked a little, but Taro's vines didn't move an inch. Sage was very slow on the stairs. They creaked the loudest, and at night when half of the guards slept in the living room close by, the noise was ten times louder. The other half of the guards were outside. Sage hoped they weren't too cold as he grabbed his coat and slipped on his boots.

He tiptoed through the house and into the kitchen where the backdoor sat already ajar. Sage zipped up his coat. The fresh bitter air was welcoming after being too hot for too long. He peeked through the door. Katie's father sat on a bench underneath the kitchen window. He had a cigarette in one hand, and a hip flask in the other.

His head tilted in Sage's direction. "Your Royal Highness!" Fergus struggled to get to his feet and bowed lowly. "Join me, if you want to. Or I can leave you to be by yourself. Or did you need anything?"

"I'll join you, if you don't mind." Sage shared the bench and the old farmer sat down again.

"Want a sip, Sir?" Fergus offered the prince his silver flask.

"What is it?" Sage questioned.

"Whisky. Keeps away the cold."

Sage smiled and took the flask. The drink left a warm trail down the back of his throat and in his chest. "Is it homemade?"

The farmer raised a brow. "You could tell?" He smiled. "My brother makes it and sends us a few bottles every winter. Drinking it makes me feel closer to him."

"Does he live near here?"

"He lives abroad, somewhere warm. He always did hate the cold." Fergus stared into the dark abyss. Snowy fields sat beyond, but in the middle of the night, it looked as though the world stopped ten feet in front of them. Sage stared too, letting his vision fall into the night. "Have you heard from your family yet?"

"No. They could easily get in touch with the guards, but I've heard nothing."

"Your family probably know where you are. If they cared, they would have arrived at the cottage and checked all surrounding farms in the area. Your cars are still there, so it's obvious to them that you've fled. I think they know exactly where you are, they're just choosing not to do anything."

Sage's gaze fell to his lap. He sank his hands into his pockets to keep warm. Fergus was right. If they cared about finding him, they would be here by now. "I guess we're more focused on running from the reporters."

"You have a guard watching the cottage. So far, it's been quiet because I've been pestering them about it. So, whoever took that photo of you and your boyfriend didn't share your location."

Sage shivered. The word boyfriend made him feel uneasy, like he had to suddenly lie and tell the farmer he didn't know what he was talking about. Everyone knows, you're not hiding anymore.

Fergus stared at him and slowly sipped his brother's whisky. "I'm an old man now. I've seen my share of evil in this world, and I've lost my share of loved ones. The day those tabloids criticised you for crying at the late Kings funeral was the day I stopped reading them. You were just a boy, and you were grieving, and they were laughing at you. Our little village was outraged for months. We burnt the papers that posted you on the front page. They kept us warm for two winters."