The first day at the Castle, Sage didn't leave his room. The next morning, he joined his family for breakfast, and they told him that they were going back to the Palace, but he had to stay behind.
Taro Vinea and Joral Hodeer, his father's Valet, served them. The Royal's quick departure in the middle of the night left no time for other servants to join them. The Valet's stood by opposite walls, waiting and watching for any commands.
Sage's eyes kept flicking to his Valet who tried to lean against the wall.
"Your safety is our main priority," Haliver said with eyes only for his steaming porridge with honey and sliced strawberries. "You'll stay here to give that head of yours some peace from the tabloids. As far as I'm concerned, this is their fault. They focus on you too much. We need to get you out of the public eye."
Sage filled his mouth with toast, so he didn't have to stare around the room awkwardly. He hoped there would be a day where he could proudly tell the world who he was, and not care about what others had to say. But right now, as he sat with his family in an unfamiliar place after fleeing the safety of his own home, Sage didn't feel proud of anything.
"How do you propose we do that?" Oxley asked with an arm around his own chair and an unbroken egg on his plate. "Sage wears brown shoes, the tabloids suddenly hate brown shoes, Sage gets muddy in his own garden, the tabloids have leaked pictures the next day, Sage flees the Palace because someone is threatening his life, the tabloids will no doubt call him a weak future king." Oxley's voice had risen as he spoke, and a frown creased between his brows. "We can't just let them shit all over him like this. Something must be done."
Sage expected Oxley to have something to say, though he didn't expect him to sound so angered. "Is there even anything that can be done?" he asked calmly. "I'm sure if we tried, they'd scream about freedom of the press."
"Then we need to set them up. They're now too clever on how they word their headlines after what you did to them, Sage. But I think you need to take them down again. Sue them for every corrupt penny they're worth, then give it to all the charities they hate. We are the Royal family; we have this power." Haliver had a dangerous twinkle in his eyes, the one he got with little sleep and a stressed mind.
The Queen had said nothing, only nibbled on fruit. Sage felt her eyes on him every time he shifted on his chair. He also felt eyes on him from across the room and avoided Taro's face.
"Can we focus on replacing the staff at Pothos Palace who are not loyal to the Greens?" Sage asked, wanting to slump in his chair with a pouted lip. His mother would comment on his posture immediately if he dared.
"Absolutely. That can be a start to this mess."
The rest of breakfast was awkward. Sage felt his parents calculating every word they spoke as if he was some fragile doll that teetered on the edge of a high shelf.
When it was time for them to leave, Sage sat on the marble steps by the front entrance. He watched their cars weave through the country lanes until he could no longer see them, and no longer hear their engines.
Instead of going back inside the building, he walked around its stone walls and ventured to a bench on the outskirts of its grounds. Two bodyguards followed, but they were good at keeping their distance, so Sage didn't feel suffocated.
He moped for a while, stared solemnly at the ground for a while, sighed heavily at least twenty times, and forgot to go back in time for lunch.
Taro Vinea greeted him when Sage's stomach growled with hunger. "Wow," Taro said, pausing a few metres from the bench. "There's no difference between you and that sad sky over there."
Sage turned to see an approaching storm. The wind had picked up and the temperature was rising. He followed Taro back across the field, not wanting to spend his time at the Castle with a cold.
"Can I ask about what happened with you and the press?" Taro asked, watching Sage as he spoke. "Sounds like you took them down pretty hard and they've bounced back pretty hard too."
"I'm surprised you don't know about it. Every news reporter in the country mentioned it until it was over, and then some." Sage crossed his arms and slowed the pace, so he could talk to his Valet in the open air. "When my grandfather died, I cried at his funeral. The press took very close-up pictures and videos and turned my sorrow into a weakness. This was the first bad press I had received, and I took it hard. They said some really nasty things about me, so I sued everyone I could for defamation of character. I took down big names and I'm paying for it now."
Taro stopped walking, so Sage also stopped. "You really did that?"
Sage nodded.
"You must have known about this aftermath."
"I was warned about what it could cause, but I had to do something."
Taro's green eyes, brighter than the grass and the trees around them, now gleamed with something Sage would have assumed was curiosity. "That was a very brave thing to do."
Sage had rarely been called brave for taking down the press. Only Oxley thought he was doing the right thing. His father thought he should have silently waited for the drama to blow over, his mother frowned upon any actions that caused negative attention, and one of his grandmother's had called him a stupid fool to his face.
"I don't think I have the energy to do that again," Sage admitted.
"You do. I know you do." Taro smirked. "Do you know how I know?"
Sage shook his head.
"Because if I had that weight on my shoulders, I wouldn't be able to get out of bed, and I'm a pretty strong person." Taro's eyes flicked him up and down. "You're surprising, for someone who the whole world thinks they know."
Sage's eyes stared at the back of Taro's blond head as he continued towards the Castle. You're surprising too, he thought before following him across the rest of the field.
Telling Taro Vinea his problems seemed natural. Sage hadn't gone into detail, but Taro still knew more about him than his own family. The Valet had only been in his life for a week.
Sage tugged anxiously at the ends of his sleeves. He knew nothing about Taro Vinea. Because I haven't asked him anything.
He sat at the head of a long dark oak table. The chairs were calved with flowers along the back. The carvings were not comfortable, so Sage slumped over a bowl of soup and let his thoughts wander.
He sulked in the Castle's library for the rest of the day, picking up a book, reading a page, wanting something else, then spending almost thirty minutes looking for another book he wasn't in the mood to enjoy.
The bedroom at the back of the Palace was warmed by a fire when Sage returned. The day was getting late, and he hoped to have a decent night's sleep.
Taro Vinea joined him after Sage pulled a cord that rang a bell somewhere in the servant's hall. Taro hadn't yet emptied Sage's bag. Sage wanted to ask why he hadn't gotten around to it, but he didn't have the energy for a confrontation.
"I shoved a lot of stuff in here. It's all creased," Taro admitted.
"It's fine. I'm not too picky about my nightwear, but if we could pick an outfit for tomorrow, and get it ironed, that would be great." He unbuttoned his shirt. "And please get the rest of the clothes ironed and in the cupboards by tomorrow afternoon. I do believe my grandmother is visiting for dinner tomorrow."
"Alright. Does she live close?"
"Only a twenty-minute drive." Sage found the Castle eerily quiet; he was almost eager to have more company. "She's a bit mad with old age, though. She'll be a difficult guest."
"Is it normal for Valets and other staff to travel with Royal families?" Taro asked, taking Sage's shirt and giving him a black silk one. Instead of wandering off to put things away, Taro buttoned up the shirt.
Sage pursed his lips when Taro's knuckles touched his stomach.
"Prince?" Their eyes met. Sage diverted his immediately.
"Yes, it's normal to travel with your employer."
Taro slowed his fingers. "You blush when I do this. Is this not normal for a Valet?"
"You're really only meant to fix a tie and do the top button."
"Then why do you let me do it?"
Sage's heart throbbed in his ears. Taro Vinea was close. A finger had slipped on the inside of his shirt, touching his chest. His green eyes were intense and keen for a response. Sage didn't know what to say. Why had he let Taro act so intimate?
His silence was taken as some sort of answer. Taro's bruised hand moved inside Sage's shirt, slowly, tenderly. His palm was cold against Sage's ribs. He knew Taro could feel his thumping heart and the rise and fall of his anxious breaths.
Sage was frozen, until Taro stepped closer and tried to slip his other hand inside his shirt. Sage retreated quickly and spun around. "Leave," he said while fumbling with his own buttons.
Taro didn't move. "It's okay to-"
"If you don't leave my bedroom now, you're fired." The thumping in Sage's ears was a warning call. He didn't turn around until his bedroom door opened and closed, and he was once again on his own.
Sage groaned and flopped onto his bed in only his silk shirt and boxers. He stared at the patterned ceiling. He still felt Taro's cold palm on his chest, and the excitement that came with such a plain touch. "What are you doing Sage? What the fuck are you doing?" He cringed and buried his face into his duvet. He's my Valet, he's my Valet, he's my Valet.
Sage had too much to lose, yet the temptation of being touched by another man made him forget all that was bothering him, for a moment, but a moment too long. Taro knew the risks to Sage's future, but he still flirted as if they could afford to get caught.
Why do I hesitate every damn time? Sage curled up into a ball. Why won't I just fire him?