The next morning at breakfast, Sage did his best to sit up straight and eat some food when all he wanted was to curl into a ball and sleep for days. His sickness had worsened, his nose felt swollen, his face felt bruised, his eyes stung, his brain throbbed, his skin was sensitive to the fabric of his clothes, and to the temperature changes around the cold and draughty Palace.
Every time Oxley moved, Sage glanced at him to make sure he wasn't watching him in return. There was an awkward tension between them, one Sage had made by acting guarded. What if he did see, and he's waiting to tell me how he's going to get Taro fired? What if he's waiting to tell our parents? Sage slapped those thoughts back into the shadows. Oxley was his brother, he had to trust that he wouldn't hurt him that way.
Still, Sage fidgeted, offered weak replies to his parent's questions, and pushed food around his plate.
"You look dreadful," his mother finally said, sitting opposite in a vibrant yellow blouse with a silk knot tied loosely around her collarbones. Her hair was pinned back tightly, showing off her high cheekbones and her symmetrical features. "You're pardoned of all your duties today. Have some rest."
What duties? Sage thought bleakly. I had nothing to do anyway. "I'm fine," he mumbled, sitting up straighter.
"You're not fine," his father added sternly. "I knew you'd stress too much about the break in."
Sage, already a little sensitive because of his ill-health, and anxious because of what Oxley saw, allowed his father's words to stir like a bitter fluid in his chest. "I'm fine," he repeated crossly. "I had a right to know what was going on. I will be king one day, so stop treating me like a child." His words were said before he could hold his sharp tongue. Nothing screamed that he was sick more than him losing his composure.
His hazel eyes glanced to Taro who stared back with mild surprise.
"You're definitely not feeling well," Oxley scoffed.
Sage turned to look at him too. "And you can stop-" Sage paused abruptly. -keeping your secrets, he finished in his head. Don't be a hypocrite. "-being so annoying."
"Me? Annoying?" Oxley clasped his hands to his chest dramatically. Sage could only stare as hard-faced as he could manage. Oxley dropped the theatrics quickly. "Alright, sorry," he scoffed, turning away with a prolonged eye-roll.
Sage sank into his chair, avoiding anyone else's gaze, which was difficult when everyone stared at him.
"Well," his father said after a moment of silence, "now that it's quiet, I think we should talk about the Wine and Vine event."
"No," Oxley and Sage said in unison.
"Yes, firstly I want to ask why Lord Coniferous' son arrived uninvited."
Now it was Oxley's turn to avoid his parent's stares. "I didn't really invite him. I just kind of mentioned that there were free spaces."
Haliver could've popped a vein in his neck by how tightly it tensed. "I told you not to invite them!" he yelled, making everyone at the table jump.
Sage's brain jolted in his skull. "Dad, why do you hate them so much? What did they do?"
Haliver ground his jaw and glared at his coffee. "If you must know, he was involved with your Uncle Patrick."
"Involved how?"
"It doesn't matter."
Sage reached the end of his tether. He stood up so abruptly, his chair fell over. Metal clanked against golden tiles, silencing even the birds chirping by the window. "How can you say it doesn't matter?" he hissed. "You say I'm in danger because Patrick was murdered, you tell me to be careful, yet you don't even tell me when a break in happens. You keep me in the dark about everything. Do you know how many times I found stuff out through the tabloids and not from my own family? It's embarrassing! I'm sick of all the secrecy and the lies, it's no wonder I tell you nothing about my own life. You just don't listen to me, nor do you care about what I want."
Sage tried to make a grand exit, but his father wasn't one to let the heat simmer, he always had to reach boiling point. "And what is it that you want?" Haliver shouted, also standing.
"Let him leave," Marigold said, and was ignored.
"I want to know what's going on with Patrick. Why is he a traitor?" Sage stood his ground, crossing his arms and standing straight, despite the headache mulling behind his eyes. "You said you were trying to protect me by not telling me. You said I'd only find out after the murderer is found. Why? I bet Oxley knows everything." Sage looked down to his younger brother who couldn't bring himself to connect their gaze. "What is it that you're all so fucking afraid of?" Sage's blood boiled. Pent up emotions were the last of his worries.
His mother calmly placed both palms on the table and rose to her feet. "You will not use that language in the presence of your family," she said deeply. "And you will stop pressing your father about Patrick."
"You told me to ask him, remember?" Sage argued.
"I did, you're right. But your father doesn't want to tell you, and not for selfish reasons. Sage, you have to accept that some things are kept secret for your benefit, not ours."
"I don't understand. What has this got to do with me?"
Marigold and Haliver shared a quick glance. "One day you will know," his mother said. "And if that makes you frustrated and angry in the meantime, then so be it."
Sage was more than frustrated. He felt as though he had been abandoned in the dark without a light to guide him in the right direction. "You would prefer for me to be angry than for me to know the truth about Patrick?" Sage shook his head in disbelief. "This family is ridiculous."
"Don't say that," Oxley mumbled, also standing up. "Just go and have a nap or something and you'll feel better."
"Have a nap and I'll feel better," Sage repeated. "Wow, if only my problems were that small."
"And what exactly are your problems?" Haliver snapped.
"You . . . all of you." Sage's eyes trailed the room. "These rules, these restrictions, this crown. You all keep me in the dark because I have a lot going on. You see that I'm struggling and instead of helping me, you tell me to have a fucking nap, or go help the gardener, or go stay at a castle until it all blows over. Nobody cares because if you did, you would press me as much as I'm pressing you for the truth. You just want to keep me sane enough for me to one day be king, but you know what? Maybe I don't want to be king." Sage's loose tongue could not be stopped. His last sentence rippled the room.
Shock was the only emotion staring back at him, especially from Taro who stood silently with the other guards.
Marigold stepped around the table. "Sage Green, tell me you did not mean that."
Sage's heart beat out of control. Don't take it back, not when you've finally said your truth. "I meant every word. What sort of King could I possibly be when the entire country hates me just for breathing? How can I expect to be in charge when you don't tell me anything? How can I be the next great Monarch when most of my own family don't even like me? I've done nothing wrong, and I'm hated for it. Oxley would be more loved." Sage looked to his younger brother, seeing the fear in his eyes. "It's a burden I don't feel strong enough to bear. The country decided that when my tears were posted all over the front page."
Sage stepped back, avoided Oxley's attempt at making him stay, and left the room with hands curled to trembling fists. Taro quickly followed his march down the corridor, around endless corners, and out onto the Palace grounds. Sage didn't slow down, not even when he was far enough away from the Palace that nobody could see his wet eyes.
He kept storming, out of breath with the wind whipping his skin. All the while, Taro followed in silence. His presence was enough comfort for Sage, enough to stop him from breaking down. He paused by a bench underneath one of the Hawthorn trees dotted around the Palace grounds.
Sage sat on the cold metal and stared glumly at his lap. Taro sat next to him, close enough for their arms to share the same company. "Are you okay?" Taro asked.
How could Sage answer such a vague question. "I don't know what I feel right now."
"Did you ever think you'd say that to your parents?"
"No." Sage chewed the inside of his lip. That scares me most of all. "They'll say I've changed."
"Good." Taro nudged him to encourage Sage's eyes to look up to his face. "You were so frightened of what they'd think of you before. You should be proud."
"Proud that I can now yell at my family?"
"No Sagerian," Taro said with a little smile. "You should be proud that you're not so terrified anymore. You'll be able to live on when they know who you really are, no matter what the outcome will be. Don't you see? You can tell them you're gay, one day. You have that strength in you."
The tree leaves rustled above them, the wind whistled between branches, and the wind swept Taro's blond hair into his green eyes. Sage reached up and moved it back. "You always have the right thing to say," he whispered.
Taro's hand curled around Sage's wrist as he travelled his fingers down the side of Taro's face. "Because I see you." His green eyes circled Sage's face. "I know exactly what you need."
"You do?" Sage asked, matching Taro's soft smile.
"I dress you each morning, I follow you around like I'm part of your own shadow, we basically sleep next to each other at night . . . of course I know what you need," Taro laughed with a big grin.
Sage scoffed and moved his hand from his shoulder. They sat side by side, grinning and nudging each other, until Sage saw a yellow dot far in the distance by the base of the Palace, moving towards them. "Oh god," he muttered and pushed Taro off the bench. "Stand over there," he hissed. "My mother is coming over."