Roots and Oxygen

Chapter 3 - Ghosts and Wives

Watering the plant was already annoying. Sage would be deep in a reading, deep in King lessons or deep in his own thoughts when his watch buzzed. The first night, Sage had even dreamt about watering the plant and awoke in a panic.

He rolled out of bed to yet another day without his valet. He was capable of dressing himself, but he had no idea where everything was, and whether anything had been sent off to get mended, or if anything was yet to get mended. Sage just dressed blindly, but at least all his clothes were bland enough not to look too out of place. At least he was in mourning and threw on anything dark.

He wore smart black jeans with a black shirt, a black waistcoat with silver buttons and black smart shoes. Finding his socks was a task that should not have been as difficult as it turned out to be. He had gone sockless for two days and couldn't stand the blisters. Sage eventually found his sock drawer in the bottom cupboard by his bathroom.

He ran a hand through his dark curls, staring at his tanned skin and cheeks that were now flushed after running around his bedroom. If he didn't wear black, or dressed informally, the tabloids would have a field day of making up lies about him. They would say that he didn't care about his Uncle's death. That might have been true, but Sage couldn't give them a reason to tear down his reputation. He had once reacted badly to their lies, and from then on, they made it their life's mission to bring him down like how he brought them down.

Sage was late to breakfast and this time, his father's eyes joined in on the judging stares. They hadn't talked about Patrick's death the night before. So the Queen ordered the servants from the room, so they could talk as a family.

"Nice of you to finally join us," his mother said sternly. Though she made the effort to smile at her eldest son.

"Sorry mother," Sage mumbled, glancing to Oxley who was bursting to crack a smirk. "Have you got more news on what happened to Uncle Patrick?"

"Nothing other than the fact that he was murdered with a cord of some sorts. The house he was in belonged to nobody, and so far, everything is pointing to dead ends. Patrick's house is being searched for any signs that someone was threatening him or that he was in trouble. I'll be very surprised if nothing turns up. Patrick was always testing the law some way or another."

Sage rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "He was probably up to something rather shady. He always seemed to be up to something."

"I'm hoping that's what got him killed, and not some crazed lunatic who has it in for the Royals," his father added. "At least you're off the front page for a few days." He sighed heavily and shared a glance with his wife. "Anyway, let's not cast a shadow on today's breakfast."

They talked about the weather, their boring Royal engagements, and then his father moved onto a topic that made Sage's stomach churn. "I'll arrange for some... women of interest to come and occupy you after the funeral is out of the way."

Sage's fingers fidgeted under the table. "I don't really-"

"You're either chopping back the rose bush, mowing the lawn, or trimming the hedges. Sage, you're a Prince, not a gardener."

"You told me to fill more of my days this week with helping Mrs Beecham. And besides, I'm not in the mood for entertaining guests."

"You never are," said his mother, tightly pursing her thick red lips. "You'll be twenty-one soon. You need to think about the future. I won't live forever."

"You're acting like I need to get married tomorrow." Sage's heart flipped in a sudden panic. He had to tell them that he was gay, preferably sooner rather than later. Sage had even drafted letters before he burned them, fearing that they'd fall into the wrong hands. Whatever he did was big news. Being gay would somehow turn into a scandal.