Roots and Oxygen

Chapter 10 - Offensive Compliments

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?"