Golden Bird, Red Fox: Chapter four

Braxton did not sleep the next day. His morning was dominated by a swooning mother and not-so-disappointed father. They mostly expected this sort of thing to happen, Braxton being the second son and not good for anything except being there. Gordon would inherit the throne, Ferrell would be a first-class knight in shining armor, and Braxton would carve wood.

“I’m glad you gave it your best shot,” his mother said during their luncheon picnic, smiling affectionately. Immediately afterwards, she turned her attention towards Ferrell and pep-talked at him until the third prince could only force a reluctant grin.

Eager to avoid Gordon, who was likely in the mood for sharing sorrows, Braxton asked if he might be excused. He walked hurriedly to the stables and was soon on his way to Trador to tell the Baron and Baroness what he had learned from the advertisement. He and his horse dawdled on the ride there, stopping to literally smell the roses.

“Oh! Prince Braxton?” he heard someone call. Looking up, he spotted the Baron and Baroness taking a stroll in their garden. How embarrassing; he'd been caught loitering.

“Oh, um, good day, Baron and Baroness.”

“It’s good to see you again,” the lady called, waving a delicate hand, “Have you learned much about our son and daughter?”

“Yes!” Braxton shouted, “Apparently your daughter was stolen by a wizard while wandering the streets.”

Both nobles gasped before rushing to the fence to speak more quietly with Braxton. “Dismount here,” the Baron said, “Lead your horse along and follow us. A servant will meet us to take the horse to the stables, and once that's been done, climb over the fence and we can discuss more serious matters.”

Nodding, Braxton slid off his mare and leaned down to listen to the Baroness’s quaking voice.

“I’m afraid we did not anticipate this,” she said, “You see, the wizard threatened to put the mastermind behind our gardens to eternal sleep because he was envious.”

“I can understand why,” Braxton whispered.

“Yes, but it never occurred to us that he would think Dianne the designer. It’s common knowledge among staff, and even in town, that Randall does the gardens.”

A servant hurried towards their group, and Braxton handed him the reigns before leaping over the low, iron fence. He nearly got his jacket caught on a rosebush as he landed. “Well, according to the information I received, your daughter yelled at a wizard before they disappeared.”

The Baron grunted and rubbed his temples with one hand as he led the group away from the fence. “I should have seen that. You should know she’s very protective of her younger brother. She probably made some kind of deal with the wizard to have him put her to eternal sleep, and then ended up having the deal broken, and now both of them are under this curse.”

“Oh, and I have a question,” Braxton said, lowering his voice further, “I met an enchanted fox who claims that a redhead at this estate helped him out. Do either of you know what he was talking about?”

“No,” the Baroness said, resting a hand on her lip.

“Both of our children are red-headed,” the Baron said, “so it could be either of them, but I doubt they would have done something without telling us.”

“Unless,” the Baroness started, “unless that fox is Randall. You remember, right dear?” She turned to her husband.

“What?” Braxton asked.

“Well, Dianne used to help Randall with his school work. She’s bright as a button, even if she can’t tell which way is east at sunrise, and she’s the one who probably taught Randall his school subjects, not his teachers.”

Braxton scratched his head, looking at the maze of rose bushes. “I have a hard time understanding why he wouldn’t just say he was Randall though.”

“It was probably part of the curse. I doubt he’s allowed to tell you he’s actually Randall, so he gave you a hint.”

Suddenly it all clicked. Braxton stared up at the cloudless blue sky, connecting the dots in his head. “So the wizard was jealous of Randall’s gardens and threatened to take him away and put him in some magic slumber, right?”

The Baron and Baroness nodded, eyes focused on Braxton.

“But Dianne, being protective of her brother, didn’t want that to happen, so she made a deal with the wizard to have him put her to sleep. She was taken away, and the wizard turned back on his word and turned her brother into a fox. It makes perfect sense!”

Both nobles hugged each other, glad that they were finally on the right track. They thanked Braxton incessantly and insisted that he stay for dinner, however necessary it be that he return home. Braxton finally saw the intricate patterns of the gardens from the dining hall windows. Fields of blooms swirled through interwoven spirals with a deep green background.

It wasn’t until after sunset that Braxton returned home. He crept quietly through the palace, glad for the Eastern carpets that softened his footsteps. By now, Ferrell had settled himself somewhere in the orchard, and the fox was telling him how to catch the golden bird. Braxton paused outside the parlor, listening to a tinkling minuet that floated out the door, and he corrected himself for calling the fox simply ‘fox’. He was Randall, the heir of Trador.

He pressed onwards through the hallways, eager to make up for his loss of sleep the previous night.

Morning came far too quickly. No one interrupted Braxton’s sleep except the sun; he had foolishly left his curtains drawn. He blinked awake before remembering. Ferrell had stayed in the orchard last night.

Braxton leapt from his bed, nearly bonking his head on one of the posters. Throwing on a blazer, he burst through his door and padded quickly through the palace.

His family had already assembled in the dining hall, gathered around a metal cage that sat on the tile floor. Everyone except Ferrell and Braxton still stood groggily in their nightclothes.

“Nice to see you could join us,” Ferrell sang, smirking at his brother.

Braxton scowled. “I had a long night yesterday. I imagine you’ll want a few extra hours of sleep as well.”

“Oh, Braxton! You’re awake?” It was his mother, sounding far perkier than she looked. Her voice squealed in pure excitement. “Have you seen? Ferrell caught the golden bird!” She moved away from the cage to allow Braxton a good view.

Everything about the cage looked fit for royalty. Delicate brass wires spiraled to the roof of the cage, and ornaments of gold and silver decorated the door and top. Inside was perched a bird of equal majesty. It preened its shiny golden tail feathers, shaking precious flakes from the crest atop its head. The bird looked about the size of a goose, with elaborate patterns of gold, black, and white feathers on its tucked wings.

“It’s certainly a pretty bird,” Braxton said, almost wishing he'd caught it himself. But then again, better to have Ferrell take the blame if anything went wrong.

“I caught it with my bare hands,” Ferrell gloated. “There was a fox who told me to set a trap for it, and to use some wooden cage that was already prepared, but that’s such a stupid idea!” In a fit of pride, Ferrell stuck a finger through the bars of the cage to stroke the bird’s head. “I mean, a wooden cage couldn’t do this lovely creature any justice.”

Braxton raised his eyebrows before noticing that the bird had stopped preening. Its beady black eyes peered suspiciously at Ferrell’s dangerously nearing finger. And then Braxton saw them. Golden talons that pierced clean through the metal perch provided for it. He widened his eyes and inhaled, ready to warn his brother, but he was too late.

The bird rose to the top of the cage, the perch falling apart as talons ripped through it as easily as Braxton ripped paper. Ferrell turned to see his finger nearly suffer the same fate. He pulled back, panicking. “What?”

With a squawk that could shred the ears of the deaf, the bird bit at the cage, ripping it apart at the seam of the wires before shooting out. It flapped noisily around the dining hall, chopping off parts of the chandelier before slamming into the windows. Screaming, it rammed into the glass again and again. Then a clinking sound silenced the room. The gigantic window pane erupted into a spider web of cracks before shattering into a wave of slivers and setting the golden bird free.

“You should have listened to the fox,” Braxton muttered, the crash of glass drowning out his voice. He shooed his curious mother away from the shards that covered the floor and called for servants with good shoes to assist with cleanup.

Pulling his brother to the side, Braxton hissed, “There’s a reason why we listen to enchanted animals.”

His brother flinched before recovering and flicking at his hair. “Yes, but it was a fox! You know what foxes symbolize.”

Braxton glanced around the room to ensure that his other relatives had all left for their rooms before continuing. “Yes, but that fox happens to be the lost heir of Trador I’ve been looking for. Listen to me, Ferrell, you have to help me turn him back.”

Ferrell raised an eyebrow. “What will I get out of it?”

“I don’t know!” Braxton whispered frantically, “his sister?”

“His sister is the one who blew her top at a wizard, isn’t she?” Ferrell placed a hand on his chin and scrunched his face in contemplation. “Well, if she’s pretty, I wouldn’t mind her attitude.”

Braxton sighed in relief. “I assure you she’s just that. Most nobles are, and her mother is prettier than ours.”

Snorting, Ferrell agreed to help. The younger prince flitted around any broken glass he spotted, even though his boots would keep him from getting injured, and left the dining room.