Shira Behore - My Brothers Spare

My Brothers Spare

Copyright 2021 Shira Behore

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019918355

ISBN: 978-1-7341745-6-4 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-7341745-8-8 (hardcover)

ISBN: 978-1-7341745-7-1 (ebook)

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, companies, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by ebooklaunch.com

Interior formatting by FormattedBooks

Published by Lost Island Press

San Jose, California

www.lostislandpress.com

To my grandma, Safta Sara, who listened to the eight year old girl who wanted to tel l a s tory.

Thank you for e veryt hing.

I love you.

Contents

I COULD NEVER FORGET MY MOTHE RS T OUCH.

The swift and gentle movements of her fingers as they loosened the stubborn knots in my hair, the faint scent of lavender that lingered in the air whenever she was near.

And her warmth , one that filled every crevice in our va st es tate.

I exhaled heavily, her steady hands moving through my hair, tying the deep strands back with a silver ribbon and securing it tightly at the base o f my neck.

There. I could hear the smile in her voice long before I turned to face her. B eaut iful.

She was radiant, with eyes as deep and dark as the night sky and a smile so bright, even the sun stared down in envy. The Viscounts jewel , the people had called her. A young lady of noble birth, yet one passionate enough to sympathize with even the weariest of outcasts. She existed as a quiet and soft -s poken woman in the publics eye, but her warmth extended past her blood, leading her to the outer neighborhoods of Nieve with warm food for the hungry and clean clothes for the bare.

A saint , they would say. A guardian angel for the poor and a voice for the f orgo tten.

I stepped up on my toes, my hand moving to touch the dainty chain that clung to her neck. My thumb pressed against the simple flower charm that sat comfortably between her collarbones, tracing the ridges and dips of the petals as she pulled me int o her lap.

Pretty, isnt it? A breathy laugh slipped past her smiling lips, and I nodded, finally meeting her eyes. Her warm hands found mine, squeezing the m fai ntly.

V, are you finished yet? my brother whined from the center of the vast room. I slipped from my mothers grip, turning to meet Victors excited gaze. He was my copy, the two of us sharing everything, from toys and clothes to a womb.

Twins! my father would exclaim as he retold the story. Out of all the surprising things Ive come across in my lifetime, hearing the doctor say that was by far the most ast onis hing.

Victor had spread himself out across the carpet like a sunflower, carefully placing the last piece of his toy track onto the floor, connecting the twisting and turning trail into one large exten sion.

The train. He sat up quickly, pointing a finger to my right. Grab it for me, will you?

Im not your maid, Vic. I sighed but bent down to grab the toy nonetheless. My pale nightgown swished at my knees as I ran over to his spot on the floor and handed the small mechanical trink et to him.

Of course youre not. He grinned, setting the train on its tracks. Youre more like m y bu tler.

He burst out into a fit of giggles as I tackled him, trying to hide my own itching grin. I pinned him down face -f irst , easily holding his hands behind his back.

No fair, he mumbled into the carpet, turning his face to the side. I wasn t r eady!

Please, I always win! I snorted, releasing his arms and taking a seat at his right. He groaned, sitting up once again, but didnt argue. He leaned toward the track, one hand holding the bright red train in place while the other moved to wind up the key that sat at its rear. I hugged my knees, watching his eyes light up as the train came to life, its small black wheels chugging their way down the da rk tr acks.

Amazing, isnt it? He beamed, deep blue eyes meeting my matching pair. Father had brought the train set home about a week ago, and Victor had been obsessed with it e ver s ince.

I dont want to be Viscount, my brother had announced a few nights prior. I want to be a c ondu ctor!

Father had laughed, a deep and comforting rumble, ruffling Victors hair. Im afraid youll have to manage both jobs, Victor. My brother had pouted, whining about how he would much rather deal with trains than with crimi nals.

You should have let your sister come out into the world first then. Father grinned, his pale eyes meeting my own. Viscountess Valeria. He tucked a long strand of hair behind my ear. How does that soun d to you?

Its a little late, isnt it? Our mothers soft voice rang from her seat, her slender form standing elegantly from the deep vel vet c hair.

Cant we please wait for Papa? I begged, batting my eyes at her. We arent even tired yet, I pro mise!

Your father wont be home for a while, darling. You know how busy he is. She took my hand in hers, squeezing it gently. Maintaining peace isnt easy work in t he l east.

Because of the fire, right Mum? I had asked her, my mother stiffening at the mention of the recen t tra gedy.

Yes. Her voice was just above a whisper, her eyes heavy with sorrow. Especially after that disa ster.

She had caught herself, pushing her sadness to the back of her mind, a small smile taking her lips as Victo r gro aned.

But its barely past ten! He sulked, playing with the hem of his n ights hirt.

Is it ten already? Her eyes widened, moving to the golden clock that sat above the firep lace.

I elbowed my brother in the side, the boy instantly regretting his w ords.

Goodness. To bed with you two. Mother shook her head.

I stood quickly, eyes locking with Victors before we raced to the big wooden bed across the room. I jumped, squealing as I felt him slam into my side, hitting the soft mattress a mere second befor e me.

I won, I won! He grinned, and I pushed him off my back, panting as I sm iled.

Wretched che ater!

How do you two have so much energy? Our mother laughed, joining us on the massive bed. She noticed my small hands reaching for the glasses that sat at our bedside, each filled halfway with warm milk. My mother lifted them easily and held them out.

Thank you, Mum. I murmured, bringing the warm glass to my lips, Victor grabbing his own. Mother had smiled and laid down on her back. A tired sigh escaped her, her hand moving to touch the necklace that clung to her neck as she stared up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before sitting up, her tender gaze moving to us once more. She leaned forward, pulling us into a tight embrace and peppering our heads with gent le ki sses.

Off to sleep now. You have an early morning tomo rrow.

Its a Wednesday, isnt it? Victor groaned, falling back onto his pillow. Do we have to meet with Lady Rosenfield ev ery week?

Mum, couldnt we miss class just this once? I pouted, sitting forward on my knees. If I have to sit through one more piano lesson Ill dissolve into the wind!

Dramatic thing. I crinkled my nose as she tapped it gently, soft laughter leaving my mothers lips. If you dislike it so fervently I wont force you, but bear through one more class for me, alr ight?