The next morning, Sage woke to a little green heart-shaped leaf in his face. He lifted his head to see his plant next to the bed. One of the stems partly rested on his mattress. Sage hadn't called anyone at the Palace. Taro hadn't mentioned bringing the plant with him.
He sat up and wrapped the cord around the base of the plant pot. The leaves wobbled with the movement. Sage now had to deal with not only a creepy castle, but a plant that seemed to have a mind of its own.
Sage hurried across the cold floor and into his bathroom. He almost dressed himself after remembering Taro's bold hands last night. He paced the large room back and forth. If you won't fire him, then just... Sage stopped in the sunlight. He closed his eyes and imagined a life he wanted. More than anything, Sage wanted peace, and to get peace, he had to be true to himself. I can handle him. I can handle another man flirting at me.
Taro didn't come when Sage pulled the cord for his Valet. He waited almost thirty minutes before leaving his bedroom to look left and right down his hallway. Now grumpy, Sage stormed to the end of the corridor and glared down the staircase. The Castle was as quiet as if he were the only living being within its walls.
"I'll dress myself then," he muttered and returned to his room, only to see Taro standing by his bed with messy blond hair, shirt buttoned up wrong, and no shoes on his feet.
"What in the world-"
"I woke up late." Taro's pale cheeks were flushed. He looked stressed.
"How did you get in here?"
"Secret door."
"No really, how?"
"There's a secret door down the corridor. Uh, the cook told me last night when I asked about the castle." Taro quickly rebuttoned his shirt and smoothed back his hair. He was still missing his waistcoat and blazer. "Am I fired?"
"You've worked with me for a week and you've asked me that more than once. That's not a good look, Mister Vinea." Sage didn't know how to feel now that Taro was in front of him. He had been inappropriate, but Sage had allowed it, until the weight of such an act crushed him.
"Yet I'm still here, ironing your shirts." Taro smiled and edged around the Prince. "So, fired or no fired? What's the verdict?"
Sage's eyes followed him to the suitcase. "I should fire you."
"You're hesitating."
"I really don't know why," Sage replied, and Taro sighed.
"Are we going to have this conversation over and over until you accept the fact that I'm good looking and you enjoy being dressed by a younger guy?"
Sage was stunned by the truth. He opened his mouth to deny Taro's claims, but he couldn't lie. "You need to keep your voice down."
Taro shut the door and leant against it. "If you're uncomfortable, then tell me to be more professional."
Sage tried to do that too, but the feeling of his palm on Sage's chest returned and his heart fluttered. He cleared his throat and faced the mirror. "It's cold today. I'll need a jumper to go with the outfit I picked out last night." He saw Taro smirk in the reflection. Yet again, Sage had let him get away with it.
Taro gave Sage his shirt and his hands held the bottom button. "Stop me, if this is inappropriate," he said, fiddling the shirt closed.
Sage watched his pale hands with the green nails. "You know its inappropriate. I told you so last night."
"So, stop me." Taro continued to button up his shirt. "Or just enjoy it. You're allowed to be attracted to me. It's impossible not to be."
Sage scoffed. "Your confidence is almost admirable."
"Almost?"
"If it didn't make you sounds so arrogant."
"So, my arrogance is admirable." Taro's smirk never faltered.
"That's not what I said."
"But that's what I heard."
Their eyes connected. Taro smiled so big that Sage couldn't help but smile too. "You're really on thin ice here."
"I like cold water."
Sage resisted shaking his head as Taro fixed his collar. "I'm just going to ignore this whole conversation. I have too much to think about." He turned to his bedside table for his watch, and noticed the plant was gone. "Odd," he mumbled. "What did you do with it?"
"With what?" Taro stuffed Sage's pyjamas in a wash basket that was built into the large storage unit, that was also built into the wall.
"The plant."
Taro paused. "The plant didn't come with us."
"Oh. I must have dreamt it being here."
"Cute."
Sage frowned in his direction.
"Oh sorry, my manners, how cute that you're dreaming about your plant, Prince Sage, Your Royal Highness... Sir," Taro said with a wide smirk that laced his voice with sarcasm.
"That plant is hard work."
"Is it now?" Taro's eyes gleamed.
Sage wondered if it was beginning, the part where Taro found out that Sage was actually a loser who had no life, despite his status and wealth. "If you knew how needy the plant was, you wouldn't be laughing."
Taro only seemed to be more amused. "It's nice that you try to look after it, despite all its needy needs."
"It has been nice watching it get healthy. Mrs Beecham said that she found it by the road, and it was in awful condition. I wasn't sure if I could bring it back to life or not." Taro had stopped rummaging around in Sage's suitcase, and his cheeky laughs had gone quiet. Sage sensed a sudden shift and looked up. Taro stared at him so seriously, all he could do was stare back. "Are you alright?"
"It was good of you to care."
"Well, I mean, it's just a plant." Sage strode through the room. "But I should call home and tell someone to look after it." He left the room abruptly. Taro hadn't made fun of him, though he didn't seem the type to turn the passions of others into a joke. I still know nothing about him.
Taro was on his thoughts for the rest of the day, until Sage was forced to socialise. His grandmother arrived with her son, who Sage had a mutual disliking with ever since he took down the press. Sage had caused a lot of negative attention directed at the Royals. His uncle had a history of being a bigot plastered on the front page in a matter of weeks.
Of course, Sage got the blame for that and his uncle had disliked him ever since. "Brier, Jasminda, how good it is to see you both." Sage was the master of politeness when he had to be on top form.
His uncle Brier, however, wasn't good at keeping his disapproval hidden from his thin sickly face. "Sage." His black eyes sunk into his soul. Sage felt any joy kicking around in their turning to annoyance. "Dinner will be served now. We're not staying long."
Sage hugged his grandmother, the one who had called him a stupid fool for taking down the press, and probably much worse things behind his back. "Sagerian, it's nice to have you close for a change! You must come to us for dinner one evening."
"Thank you for the invite. I can't, I'm on strict house arrest while I'm here." Sage followed them to the dining room where Taro Vinea stood with another servant, ready to offer drinks.
Sage's thoughts plummeted to that morning when Taro had flirted so boldly. His eyes fell anywhere other than his Valet's permanent smirk.
"So how long will you be staying here?" his grandmother asked.
"I'm unsure. A few weeks at the least."
"What happened at the Palace?" Brier asked in a monotone voice. "Someone broke in, is that it?"
"They had a weapon and were probably hoping for a member of staff willing to guide them to my bedroom, for a price." Sage had thought about the break-in a lot. His eyes flicked to Taro who was busy serving wine to his grandmother who sat at the head of the table. He wore golden gloves, thankfully. Sage could imagine his grandmother complaining that he upset her with his green nails.
"And in the two weeks while you're away, what is being done to ensure it won't happen again? We can't have the future king so vulnerable in his own home," Jasminda said rather sternly.
Sage agreed. "I'll ask my father in the morning."
"Or your mother. I'm sure she will be doing the proper checks."
Sage's fingers tensed on his wine glass as Taro leaned over him to fill his cup. His father wasn't the chosen match for the Queen. His mother's family side would never fully accept him, and his father was still a good candidate for the Queen, just not the one they wanted.
Sage's brows twitched. Taro was closer to him than what was appropriate. Thankfully, his family were already starting another conversation about Uncle Patrick and hadn't noticed the Valet practically leaning into him while pouring his wine.
Sage didn't say much else for the rest of dinner. He was either interrupted or judged for what he did say. Keeping a fake smile was giving him a headache, but his grandmother decided to stay longer. She sat with Sage in a room that was cold and grand and lonely.
Taro Vinea stayed too. Someone had to serve his grandmother wine, and she drank more than most. "You, refill." Her finger wavered. Her speech was slurring, and her mind was wandering.
Sage hadn't been able to keep up with her fast-changing topics about everything and everyone. When she was drunk, her declining mind seemed to lose itself quicker.
"Sagerian, what time is it?" Jasminda asked.
"Almost midnight, grandmother." He tried to keep the annoyance out of his tone, but she was too into her alcohol to care if she did hear it.
"It's too late for me to go home. Those vines have already wrapped around the car wheels."
"What?" Sage frowned from his slouched position by the window. He glared at Taro every time he stifled a laugh at her mad mumbling. This time, Taro frowned too.
"The green is all about us. It's not the sun they thrive in, it's the moon my dear grandchild. The moon is where they grow."
"What are you talking about?" Sage sat up when his back hurt. The chairs were made for beauty, not for comfort. His bed, however, was waiting for him, and had been for hours. "You should sleep here then."
"The green Sagerian, look out for the green." His grandmother's head was drooping.
"Mister Vinea, please fetch Jasminda's maid."
Taro left the room immediately, most likely as tired as Sage. "Gran," Sage yelled. "You need to go to bed!" She didn't move from her slumped position.
He tried to take her drink, but the moment his fingers touched the glass, she grabbed him and stared wide-eyed. "Patrick was taken by the green," she said. "My boy, he was taken by our protectors, by our shielding leaves!"
Sage's heart thumped and he took her wine glass. An empty hand to a drunk was like taking a fish out of water. She let go and immediately looked around for more wine. Her maid arrived in time to help her off the couch. As Sage followed them into the hallway and watched her climb the stairs so nimbly, he hoped she didn't visit again anytime soon.