The Brothers Menage

by Louisa Bacio

  “Wait!” Cliff stopped the story. “You mean golden eggs like the ones we get?”

  “Yes, exactly like that,” Pa said. “The problem was, he wasn’t happy enough with what the feathered creature provided. He wanted more, and he wanted it all for himself. So he set out to follow the instructions laid out in the myth.”

  “There are instructions?” Cliff asked.

  “Yes, for almost every story out there, you can find out a bit of the why and figure out what you need to do. In this instance, the brother wanted all the riches for himself, so he killed the bird.”

  “Killed the bird that laid golden eggs?” Jacob said. “How stupid. Why didn’t he keep it? What good is it dead?”

  “Maybe stupid, but maybe not. The myth goes that whoever kills the bird and then eats its liver and kidney will wake up each morning to a golden egg under their pillow.”

  The brothers grew quiet. Cliff knew they were probably both thinking about the same thing: Their morning gift. If their uncle killed the bird in order to get the reward, how did they come to receive it? He had no memory of those events. Either he’d simply forgotten them, or he’d blocked them.

  “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering, ‘what golden egg?’”

  “Yes, Pa, what golden egg? We get one every morning. How is that possible?”

  “As your father explained it to me, before your uncle dined, you two came along and gobbled those delicacies. Once you ate them, the damage was done.”

  “We ate the golden bird!” Jacob stood quickly from the bed. “That doesn’t seem right. We wouldn’t!”

  Thud. He hit his head on the wood of the top bunk.

  “Fuck. Dammit.” He pushed off Cliff’s attempts to stop him. “I’m not sure if I want to hear any more.”

  “Well, there is more to hear,” Pa said. “And it’s for your own good. Especially if you two decide to go out after this girl who has you so enthralled.”

  Grumbling, Jacob settled next to Cliff. “Go on.”

  “Well, the uncle found out what happened, and he ordered you two be killed, so he’d collect on the bounty. Your uncle was powerful, wealthy, and greedy, and your father was not. Rather than fulfilling his brother’s wishes, your father brought you both out into the woods and hoped for the best.”

  “Hoped for the best? You mean he abandoned us!” Jacob said.

  “It sounds like he didn’t have much of a choice.” Cliff never wanted to accept any less of a reason. “It was either kill us or give us some chance for survival.”

  Once spoken, the words took on a life of their own, and the cottage grew quiet. Each alone with their thoughts, the silence expanded, growing until Cliff couldn’t take it anymore.

  “The more you talk, the more I remember,” he said, probing his memory for something nagging. Finally, it came. “We didn’t eat that bird! We buried it!”

  “What?” Jacob’s eyes grew wide. “That’s right! I remember.”

  The image of holding a delicate white pheasant in his hands, and the softness of her feathers struck Cliff. Their uncle—a vile man—had brought down the bird with his bow and was poised to twist the neck of the creature. Then he’d been distracted and put her down for a moment.

  “Do you remember how she begged, ‘Please help me. Don’t let him eat me’?” Cliff asked.

  “I lifted the wounded animal, apologized, and stroked its feathers. I said, ‘I don’t think we can save you.’”

  “Yes, I do,” Jacob continued. “And then she asked, ‘Bury me. In the forest, where the soil is rich and cool.’ The moment before her death, she said, ‘For your kindness, I bless you with all my riches.’”

  Stealthily, with a glance in the direction their uncle took, they’d done exactly that in a secret location. Tears flowing, Jacob had dug the hole.

  A magic light emanated from her body, enveloping them in warmth. As it ebbed away, she grew limp, dead, and they buried the poor soul.

  Their father wiped a few stray tears from his eyes. “My two boys. You’ve always been kindhearted. Do you see the connection between then and now?”

  “A talking bird? How did we forget about that?” Jacob asked.

  “A magic spell that held the truth of those memories until it unraveled,” Pa said.

  “Do you think she might have been a shifter, too?” Cliff voiced the question they were probably all thinking.

  “Impossible to know for sure,” Pa said. “But odds are yes.”

  Jacob stood, facing their protector, the anger pouring off his body evident from his tense muscles. “What of our father and uncle? Have you ever heard what happened to them?”

  “Aye, I have.” He turned to face the door, not meeting their eyes for the first time. “Over the years, I’ve inquired, to make sure you two were safe. From what I heard, a few years back your father died, sad and lonely. I’m sure he regretted letting you go.”

  “Don’t give him any qualities we don’t know about,” Jacob said. “He doesn’t deserve it. And our uncle?”

  “Only on my most recent trip did I hear of his passing, which is one of the reasons why I thought now would be time to share the story.”

  It was enough of the past. They needed to move forward and not get stuck in unnecessary anger. Cliff had one last question of his own.

  “What of this gold? Is it that valuable?”

  “Ah, yes, to some,” Pa said. “But all this time I’ve had you two, I haven’t touched an egg of it. Well, not in that sense. Instead, I turned it into other precious commodities, ones that you boys might be able to use when you venture out of the woods. It wouldn’t do to show up with twelve years’ worth of golden eggs in sacks. Some people may actually ask questions. When the time comes, it’ll all be there for you.”

  Chapter Three

  On the other side of the forest….

  A princess in a pale-pink dress knelt before her father on his golden throne. A line of servants streamed out in a V-shaped line from his chair. Each person, including his daughter, bowed before him.

  “You went out again into the kingdom, didn’t you, Daphne?” he asked his daughter.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I just can’t—”

  “Can’t obey my commands?” he retorted. “How many times have I told you, it’s not a good idea?”

  “But you know what it’s like. When this time of the month comes upon me, I can’t help it. The walls feel too close. Too confining. Trapping me. I need to get out. Escape, and run.” Just talking about the occurrence made her pulse speed up. She imagined the moist dirt beneath her feet and the wind ravaging her hair.

  “And how did that work out for you this last time?” He flicked his eyes toward her bandaged ankle. “Had a little run-in with humanity? That’s what I’ve always tried to tell you. It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s everyone else out there in the great woods. You don’t know how to protect yourself, and you’ll end up hurt, or worse, like your mother.”

  “But you don’t know what it’s like, Father,” Daphne argued. “You don’t know what it feels like. My skin itches, and I can’t make it stop. Not until I’m free and running, do I truly feel alive.”

  Even though he didn’t say a word, Daphne heard the response. They’d repeated this fight so many times over her lifetime, except, this time around, she’d actually met someone. Or someones. It gave her a reason to go back into that dangerous forest her father forbade her to visit. There was no way to choose between the two men she’d met. If it was up to her, she’d venture out again and see which one would be able to capture her and her heart.

  Each already owned a piece. Having both men she’d met would not be realistic, though. She’d have to choose one.

  Each held an allure. The first one fair in coloring, with a kind heart. The second darker, as if his soul held a secret only she’d be able to uncover. Both proved to be strong, physically attractive, but also gentle with her.

  Her father would choose neither. Princesses married to strengthen their fathers
’ kingdoms. Not love. Since her mother’s death, and the loss of her magic, her father had lost his drive, and their fortune had dwindled. She needed to make a good match.

  “What’s it going to be?” he asked. “Are you going to take heed of my words, or will I have to lock you in your room?”

  “What? Do you not trust me?” Daphne asked.

  “I’m sorry, but I was young once, and I remember when I met your mother. Nothing would keep us apart. If something or someone is calling you out to the woods, I don’t trust it, and you are acting somehow different.” He leaned in, scrutinizing her.

  “That’s for sure,” she muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  In her natural state, her hair was a nondescript brown—one reason she picked magnificent creatures with memorable hair colors to shift into. Day by day, she blended into the background at the castle. Nothing about her screamed “Princess” or “beauty.” And, the way things were going, a prince or knight would choose to marry her only for position or power, not love.

  She longed for a man to cherish, protect, and provide for her. Not one who needed to be coddled and sheltered.

  Three days a month, she faced her true nature and was able to shift into any form she wished. All she needed to do was think about the creature and she transformed. Unlike the lore about werewolves being ruled by the power of the full moon, her time of the month fell under the new moon. She always imagined it to be something to do with the renewal of Mother Earth.

  “Please don’t lock me in, Father. You know what it’s like.”

  “Yes, sadly, a little too much.” His voice took on a distant tone. “I lost your mother on one of her new moon runs, and I swore I’d never lose you that way.”

  “I’m safe, though. Nothing will happen to me.”

  He brushed his hand against the side of her head, stroking her hair. “I know you mean to be safe, but the more you grow into the beautiful young woman you are, the more there is for me to worry about.

  “Someday, I hope you understand, and I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.”

  Panic struck deep to the core, until she remembered no matter how he attempted to hold her captive, she’d find a way to escape, as a bird, a mouse, it didn’t matter. He might think he’d be able to confine her, but her desire for love knew the escape route.

  ***

  That night, rather than escorting Daphne to her bedchamber, the lady-in-waiting begged her to visit the dreary tower on the south side.

  “The king he, umm, wants me to show you something,” Lucille said.

  The poor woman thought she was fooling Daphne, but, no. It didn’t matter how high the tower, she’d soon be on a glorious adventure, and, the next day, if anyone questioned how the princess got out of a locked tower? Well, no matter.

  Being such a high point, the bricks acted as insulation and trapped the cool temperatures, making the tower feel even colder. Once the princess was ensconced within, Lucille slipped out the door and locked it tight. “My apologies, milady. ’Tis your father’s doing.”

  “No hard feelings. I know it’s part of your job,” she called back. Standing in the center of the floor, she turned, taking it all in. Thick metal bars blocked the window. As a human, there was no way getting out, but, as an animal? What was her father thinking? It was like he didn’t want to face her reality. To do so, he’d have to face the truth of his own.

  Not for the first time in her life, Daphne wished for a sibling. At least in that instance, she wouldn’t get all the idiosyncrasies of her father, and they could share the burden. Her mother had died when Daphne was young enough to miss her daily, but old enough to appreciate having her. She had been a shifter, too, and could have explained a lot of what Daphne experienced. She was an only child. The future of the kingdom weighed upon her shoulders. The king explained how vital it was for her to wed someone financially secure. In other words, rich. A huntsman, no matter how successful, would never do.

  But before she settled down, she wanted to live a little. Her father grew impatient. She didn’t have much time left. Tomorrow, she’d seek out one of the two men she’d encountered recently, spend some time with him, and wouldn’t run.

  The next morning, a quickening of light dotted the farthest spot on the horizon. Daphne gazed out the turret window, wishing she’d find a mate she loved who would be suitable for the kingdom. The magic of the morning light shimmered along her body, and she pictured turning into a magnificent white pheasant, which always made her think of her mom. In the blink of an eye, her perspective of the world altered, and she dropped to the floor.

  The window ledge appeared high, so she backed up a few feet, stretched her wings to gain a better feel, and swooped, catching the old rock in her claws. She slipped between the bars. Father really thought that one through. Or not. Neck stretched out, she sampled the wind’s current, feeling its direction, and lifted off.

  Instinct took over, and she alternated between pumping her wings and floating on the airstream, until she reached the forest proper. Gliding, she touched down on a grassy area, surveying the environment. Dawn, when most creatures continued to sleep, was her favorite time of day. It was as if the entire world lay before her, filled with possibilities. As if she wasn’t imprisoned by expectations for her future but able to make her own choices for happiness.

  Rustling branches alerted her to someone’s approach. No matter how stealthy they might think they were in the past, she’d heard them first. Which hunter would she encounter this day? The shy man who discovered her as a fawn or the more confident one from yesterday? Both times, when she transformed into a woman, she didn’t take her regular form. She didn’t want either to know who she was, and if they did, they’d probably find her unattractive. At least unappealing and boring, more nondescript. Instead, they went home talking about the woman with the fiery-red hair, or the woman whose blonde hair could only be described as platinum snow.

  The sound of a man’s voice carried on the breeze, and she ducked behind a boulder. He whistled a tune—the same verse her mother had used to sing Daphne to sleep, and the one she’d sung to him. She dashed out of cover right as he entered the glen.

  “Well, hello there,” the man said. He was the one she’d seen the first day. “Are you my mysterious woman, or a pheasant for the picking?”

  She tilted her head and chirped at him.

  “Ah, so I thought. I hoped to see you again. I wanted to talk with you, and maybe more.”

  The weight of his words sent a shiver through her feathers. Maybe more? Hopefully, “maybe more” meant more good interaction. So distracted she was by his presence, she failed to hear the crunch of a footstep behind her until it was too late.

  “Now,” the first man yelled.

  Some sort of netting covered her, and she sank to the grass in a heap.

  “That’s it! We’ve got her,” another man chimed in.

  She craned her neck to see the other attacker. It was the man from the day before. The one who had touched her so intimately. How did these two know each other? Curiosity fled as panic flared. The more she struggled to escape, the tighter the netting around her pulled.

  “It’s all right. We’re not going to hurt you,” one man cooed.

  Both stood over her, and she gave up the fight to stay in her animal form. As she morphed back into human, she was so startled she appeared in her true form.

  “What say you, brother, look what we have here?” The dark-haired man stooped to unravel the trap. “Is this the woman you met on your adventures?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Her hair was a different color—red. What about you?”

  “Me, either. She was a sort of silvery-blonde. How many animal-shifting women can be in this forest?”

  As the web lifted over her head, she tossed the rest of it aside and sat there, nude. “Will both of you just stop it for now? It’s me. I’m whomever I want to be, and whomever you want me to be. They’re all m
e.”

  “Well that makes this entire situation a bit more interesting,” the blond man said. “Whoever you are, I am Cliff, and I am pleased to officially meet you.”

  The man sank to one knee before her and stretched out his hand. Her heart thumped. Neither of them had dashed away in disgust. Did they not truly see her? Were they only seeing or imagining what they wanted her to be?

  His hand was callused from hard work in the forest. A laborer. A hunter. Her father never would approve, which made him all the more enticing.

  “My name is Daphne,” she said.

  With a gentle lift, he helped her stand. “What a beautiful name for such a beautiful lady. And I know you’ve already met my twin, Jacob.”

  “Twin? You two look nothing alike.”

  “True,” Jacob laughed, “but the more you’re around us, the more you’ll see the similarities.”

  “And some of the differences,” Cliff added.

  “Do you always end each other’s sentences and thoughts?” she asked, noticing a pattern.

  They turned to look at each other and laughed.

  “Sometimes,” Jacob said. “But more important, right now, is what are we going to do about you?”

  He gazed at her with full interest, from the tips of her bare toes, all the way up to her stomach, plentiful breasts, and back to her eyes.

  “What, fine sirs, do you want to do with me?”

  She’d thought it might be possible to find one temporary suitor for a fling. How could she choose between these two equally alluring men? Maybe they’d help her decide.

  Cliff ran his fingers through his intended’s silky brown hair. “So soft, and beautiful,” he whispered. Leaning in, he captured the scent of late summer, brilliant and fresh. The pale skin of her body contrasted with their rich surroundings. “Is this you? Am I truly seeing you for the first time?”

  In response, her breathing hitched, and she raised her face to meet his gaze. The warm light hit her amber eyes, and they alternated between molten yellow and deep brown. He felt like he’d been caught in the depths of her uncertainty and potential fears.