Sage changed into less formal clothing after concluding that his mood was so low, he didn't want to summon Taro Vinea to help him. Sage had little energy to keep the scowl off his face, never mind mustering the strength for small talk. He wore black jeans, a black t-shirt and a black knitted jumper. He was still in mourning and would be for another week.
For his grandfather, they were in mourning for three months. Sage's mother took the news hard.
He sat by his desk for a while, staring from the large window in the little alcove where his desk fit snugly. The clouds threatened rain, but the grounds were still dry. He knew Mrs Beecham would be somewhere outside. She often left jobs for him in the shed in case he wanted work in his spare time.
He decided to check if she had left him anything now that he was a little less distraught. Sage often needed space, but sometimes the silence betrayed him. He needed busy hands, and a distracted mind.
The fresh air was nice, but Sage still kept his head down and weaved through the flower beds until he reached Mrs Beecham's shed. Inside was empty of humans, and Sage was glad of it. He pulled a stool out from the bench and sat down on the cold wood.
Soil filled the air, a musty earthy scent that he had grown to love. Sage rolled up his sleeves and rummaged the drawers underneath the bench. Mrs Beecham's notes were under there with today's date, and a list of what needed to be done. Watering the roses and chopping back the hedges were already ticked off. Trimming the entrance tree was yet to be ticked off, and the rest of the jobs were small and could be done in the shed, so Sage got to work.
Two empty pots were left for him to fill with soil and transfer a few cheese plants that were overgrowing their previous pots.
Sage didn't mind getting his hands dirty. He sometimes pretended that he was a worker of the Palace, a simple person with a simple life. He often caught himself in a daydream about another life where he was free to do what he wanted, be who he wanted, and lived how he wanted.
Sage sighed and placed the pots on the shelf. He washed the soil from his hands in the sink nearby and stared solemnly from the window. Two gardeners stood together with cups of tea and spades over their shoulders, laughing as if they had no worries in the world.
The Prince wished for that laughter to be his. Sage didn't have much to laugh about these days, not since the King died and his mother was crowned the Queen.
The jobs that the gardener left for him were easy and he finished them too quickly. Sage returned to the stool, twiddling his thumbs and free to look glum, until someone entered. He looked up, expecting Mrs Beecham. Instead, Sage was greeted by his Valet. "Mister Vinea," he said, eyeing the man's purple jumper and blue jeans. Doesn't he own other clothes?
"Prince, Sir." Taro stood in the doorway with eyes bright and curious. He stood tall and confident, as always.
Sage was starting to appreciate how the Valet didn't tiptoe around him like the rest of the workers. That was something he liked about Mrs Beecham too. "Do you have some free time today?"
Taro nodded. "Not much, but enough to chill in here for a bit."
"I'll leave you to give you some peace-"
"No," Taro interrupted. "Sir, or whatever. I'll leave if you wanted to be alone."
Sage didn't want company, but he didn't want to spoil the peace for others. "No," he sighed. "Stay." He sat back on his stool and Taro crossed his arms.
He surprised Sage by asking, "I have time off because you're not meant to be in the Palace until this evening. Is there anything I can do while you're back?"
Sage wondered if he had heard about or seen what had happened at the church. "Are you starting to like your job?"
Taro sat on the stool at the opposite side of the shed. He shrugged. "You're not as snobby as I thought you'd be, so it's alright."
"Wow, very honest."
"It was your brother who gave me that opinion of the Royals."
Sage sat forwards on the stool. He ran his fingers back and forth along a chip in the desk. "Where did you see him?"
"In a small pub by the valley. He was drunk and I heard he paid off everyone there not to tell the press what he was saying."
Sage did not like the sound of that. "Did he pay you off?"
"No. He didn't see me. But he was arrogant about his money and his status. This was a while ago, though. Maybe a year ago."
Sage wasn't the only restless Prince, but one who had more sense than the other. "Did he mention me?"
"No." Sage was relieved, even if it did happen a year ago. "Probably because nobody can keep quiet about anything that involves you. Mentioning you would've taken the attention away from him."
So, he has heard about my stumble today. Sage turned on the stool and glared into the table. Part of him wished he had gone to Radix Castle with the rest of his family, part of him wanted to go to bed, part of him wondered why he was moping in the gardeners shed with his valet. "Are you sure you don't have anything better to do with your time?" he asked, standing up and pretending to look busy.
"What else is there to do in this Palace other than endless cleaning and looking pretty?"
"Not a lot," Sage admitted. Looking pretty was certainly high up on the list. "Don't you have places to go outside of the Palace? You did a few days ago, when Mrs Beecham clearly forced you to the Valet interview."
Taro arched a brow. He usually looked bored or amused, but now he looked mildly interested as though he wasn't talking to a brick wall. "I'll admit I didn't want the job, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be."
"Why did you think it would've been bad?"
"Dressing a Prince every day sounded awful. No offence or anything, but I just assumed you'd be a patronising prick."
"I take full offence to that." Sage stood straighter. "It's rude to assume that I'm not a very nice person because of my status." He had never heard such honesty to his face, he had only ever read about it in the papers.
Taro's arched brow turned into a frown. He swept blond hair from his green eyes that followed Sage around the shed. "I suppose, but you can't really blame me for thinking that. The whole world likes to shit on Royals."
So that makes it okay for you to do it too? I'm still a human being. Sage kept his thoughts to himself and decided to remove himself from the situation. He was still too temperamental about what happened earlier that day. Being at a funeral was hard enough. "I think I'll leave you to your peace. I have to... water the plant in my room."
Sage tried to storm through the shed with his head down. As he passed Taro, the Valet quickly stood and grabbed Sage's arm. The Prince turned, shocked that someone other than his family had dared to touch him. People usually bowed their heads and did all they could to get out of his way.
"It's a compliment," Taro said, tightening his grip on Sage's forearm. "You're not overly unreasonable, even when I don't make an effort. Osier almost fired me this morning for not brushing my hair. You're quite obviously making an effort to give me more chances than I deserve."
Sage eyed Taro's big pale hand around his tanned skin. "I want a young Valet, so I want you to succeed. Osier really wants to fire you though, so maybe you should start matching my efforts."
"Maybe I should."
They stared at each other. Taro's stare was unlike anything Sage usually received. His stare wasn't full of admiration, or nervous, or bright with excitement because a Prince matched his gaze. Taro's eyes were almost playful like he was aware he was pushing boundaries.
Before more words fell between them, the shed door opened and Mrs Beecham slipped in, pulling off muddy gardening gloves. She paused at the two men, matching each other's height. Then her eyes dropped to Taro's hand on Sage's forearm.
Sage quickly pulled himself away and cleared his throat. "I apologise for crowding up your workspace. I'll be going now." He side eyed the Valet. "Mister Vinea, you'll be free until this evening. Enjoy your time off."
Sage left slowly enough to hear Mrs Beecham scolding Taro for being inappropriate towards a Prince. Sage should have shoved him away the moment Taro grabbed him, but he didn't. Don't be stupid Sage. Being too friendly with another guy could destroy everything. It only took one person to plant the rumour.
Sage wouldn't have cared if a crown wasn't coming for his curls. He would one day carry the heavy golden burden, for better or for worse.