Golden Bird, Red Fox: Chapter nine

The Avondale estate was not particularly pretty. A few years ago, it had been owned by an old-fashioned grandpa who absolutely hated the ‘new fads’ of marble buildings and pastel walls. He had left the mansion as a stone castle and only now were renovations finally beginning. According to Gordon, they still had a moat.

“What are we doing here, again?” Braxton asked, glancing at the dismantled drawbridge on the front lawn.

Randall’s tail flicked irritably. “I swear, all you princes are so dumb. We’re here to make sure the test on the golden bird hasn’t been rigged against your brother, and to see if your other brother’s ghost turned up here. He’s engaged to Lady Avondale, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Braxton was reminded of his brother’s wish to stay with Theresa instead of hunting for the bird, then somehow got the impression that ghosts turned up by the side of people they longed for. He dismissed the thought.

The prince and fox snuck around through the back of the castle, Randall pausing to sniff everything in sight.

“Do you have to do that?” Braxton asked, tapping his ghostly foot on the courtyard tile.

“Yes!” the fox said. He looked like he’d been insulted. “I’m sniffing for the bird! Then after we make sure it’s not cursed, we’ll climb those vines over there,” he swung his nose to the shorter, east wall of the yard, “and get into Theresa’s room.”

Somehow, Braxton was uncomfortable with the idea of sneaking into a lady’s room, especially when she couldn’t see him. He trailed Randall into the great hall of the mansion, where the Avondale family probably held their parties.

It was nothing short of shoddy. The stone floors were in the middle of being covered with marble tile, and the walls were only half plastered over. In one corner sat a large crate with part of a chandelier sticking out of it. A ladder stood in the middle of the room, where the chandelier would probably be hung, and Braxton’s eyes flew towards the ceiling.

But the proper preparations for chandelier hanging were not yet in place. Instead, golden feathers flashed momentarily overhead, partially blocked by a battered wooden cage. Braxton glanced back at the chandelier crate to see Randall poke his red face out. He gripped a sturdy golden cage in his teeth and leaped out to drag the cage over.

“Climb up there and leave this on the top of the ladder, will you?” Randall said, dropping the cage from his mouth.

“You stupid fox,” Braxton muttered, nonetheless picking up the cage. It was quite heavy, as anything made of gold should be, and Braxton’s first thought was to wonder how Randall picked it up in the first place.

Setting his mind on the task at hand, Braxton scaled the ladder. By the time he placed the cage at the top, his ghostly brow gleamed with sweat. A precarious near-topple set him even more on edge, and Braxton descended with utmost care.

“You could have just floated down,” Randall pointed out as Braxton stepped off the last rung.

“How was I supposed to know that?” Braxton snapped. He did not enjoy being exploited to help his brother succeed at this stupid quest. “Let’s just talk to Lady Avondale and get this over with.”

After tiptoeing back to the courtyard, Braxton found himself standing by a thick mess of vines under Lady Avondale’s window. Why they couldn’t have just gone through the castle was beyond him, but per the fox’s instructions, he gripped Randall’s scruff and clambered up the wall.

If he’d been a physical human being, Braxton’s fingers would have been covered in blood. He gasped, finally pulling himself and Randall through the window at the top. There, in front of a vanity on the right side of the room, sat Theresa of Avondale.

She looked a lot like her estate, halfway through a make-over. Her dark brown hair was only partly unpinned from some complex bun, and the cloth in her hands was smudged with cream-colored powders. Braxton looked back out the window. It definitely wasn’t dark enough for most girls to be taking off their make-up already.

“Fox!” Theresa cried out, seeing Randall plop onto the floor. She jumped up, still quite ridiculous in her current appearance, and knelt by Randall. Coddling his cheeks with delicate hands, she began examining every inch of him.

“Please don’t, Theresa,” Randall complained, shaking himself free of her grasp. She let go. “Anyway, have you seen Gordon around lately? I’m making sure he’s alright. Little fool decided to ignore me and go into that wizard’s inn.”

To Braxton’s surprise, the lady rolled her eyes. “Of course he’s not here, and you don’t have to go insulting my fiancé. Which wizard was it, by the way?”

“Oh, you know, the gold one.”

Lady Avondale seemed to understand immediately, but Braxton certainly didn’t. As she tensed, wrinkles showing on the clean side of her face, Braxton could only wonder why Randall had so conveniently left out that ‘wizard’s inn’ part earlier.

“You mean you got Gordon involved in this? How could you? You know he’s not bright enough for this sort of thing. Now, if it had just been the part with the Tradors, I would understand why, but why would you get him mixed up in the middle of this mess?”

Randall’s tail swished nervously along the floor, and Braxton could tell this was a question the fox did not want to answer. “If I could have it my way,” Randall said finally, “I would have picked Ferrell first. He’d pass the first test, and then be stupid enough to trigger the next three once, but not twice.”

“What about Braxton?”

The temperature of the room dropped, as though Braxton’s ghostly presence had finally gained the ability to cause suspense. Waiting for Randall’s answer, Braxton found himself feeling cross. There were so many things about this quest that he didn’t know, yet he trusted this fox enough to help with it.

“Braxton…” Randall trailed off, “Braxton isn’t right either. He’s too trusting for him to get exactly the right set from the clause. Besides, the poor bloke already got caught trying to save Gordon from the inn.”

Something about the smile on Lady Avondale’s face caught Braxton off-guard. Pity. That was it. “Oh, Fox,” she whispered, just barely audible to Braxton’s ears, “I’m so sorry. You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Crinkling his nose, Randall stuck his snout in the air. “I do not. Braxton’s nice, but I’m here to fix things, not make friends. Have you called the unit yet?”

Theresa nodded solemnly. “I hope your plan works, little Fox,” she said, “because if it doesn’t, we’re going to have a very harsh ruling family from now on.”

Randall did not say anything back. He glared at Braxton, and the prince scurried to the window to help him down. Once they were out of the mansion and back in the forest, Braxton grabbed Randall’s scruff and let his anger run free.

“What happened in there?” he yelled, “What’s this about failing and succeeding and some clause? Does it have something to do with those magic contracts you mentioned? Tell me what’s going on!”

Randall’s black eyes lost their gleam. He blinked, shivering under Braxton’s touch. “I-I-I can’t say. The contract, it, it…”

“The contract what?” Braxton barked, “I order you as second prince to tell me what this contract says!” Even in his ghostly form, he felt his blood boiling. In a moment of curiosity, Braxton wondered what his soul’s touch inspired in Randall.

“I can’t,” the fox admitted. He looked close to tears. “The mannequins, the gold, the inn, it’s all one person, but I can’t say more than that. I swear!”

“You had better be right,” Braxton hissed, throwing Randall back-first to the ground. The fox yelped, landing on pine-needles. He rolled back onto shaky feet, head hung.

“I’m so sorry, Braxton. If I could, I’d tell you everything, but some things aren’t meant to be said, and some actions aren’t meant to be taken.” Turning around, Randall shook himself free of his guilt. “Let’s go. I want to make sure your brother ends up in the right inn.”