by Melle Amade
“They’re here.” Hanneke points at the bookshelf. “You used them to bookmark your place last night.”
“Right.”
“That’s a good way to ruin a good slipper,” Greta says.
“Well, we wouldn’t have that problem if you let us have a television somewhere in the castle,” I say. “Maybe a radio. I wouldn’t have to read until I’m falling asleep.”
“I don’t make the rules.” Greta shrugs, focusing on running a soft brush through Hanneke’s hair.
“How are we ever going to survive, if we’re not allowed to mix with humans a little bit? To use technology like televisions and radios?” I ask.
“You won’t live long enough to worry about that, if you don’t get your butt down there and go stand in the receiving line,” Greta grabs my rabbit stole, shoving it in my hands as she pushes me out the door.
2
Hanneke is a step ahead of me on the staircase that leads down the tower in dizzying spirals. She grabs my hand, giggling. “Come on, come on. Let’s go.”
Her enthusiasm is infectious and I find myself laughing too, as we breathlessly run down the spiral staircase and dash out into the courtyard.
Mama’s gaze is pure amusement as we practically trip over each other, hurrying to get into the family line up. Mama has been quite nostalgic these last few weeks. And I think in these last few days it’s finally hit her that she’s going to lose three of her four daughters this weekend. Her flowing burgundy and gold dress shows off the colors of the Van Arend house. And, despite the fact we’ve seen some of the sun today; a fur stole encircles her shoulders to keep her warm.
Papa stands next to her, not nearly as entertained by our tardiness. His long gray moustache twitches in displeasure. He wears dark blue pantaloons with his white blouse neatly tucked in. He wears a gold velvet coat with long sleeves and massive cuffs.
Katrina and Mais stand dutifully to one side, the eldest daughters of House Oranje. Like Hanneke and I, they wear white corsets over white dresses with flowing sleeves and billowing skirts that nearly trip everybody up. Everyone’s hair is pulled up and tied with sparkly pins and I catch the glimmer of diamonds in Katrina’s hair. She glares at me. I know that look. It’s the one that says I should be setting an example for Hanneke. Mace gives us a warm welcoming smile, her ample bosom almost spilling over the top of her corset. She imperceptibly wiggles her little sausage fingers towards us as we join them in the line. A smile dances at the corners of her mouth.
Our eagle cousins and their families stand down the line from my parents in order of closest relation; the Germans, the French, and then the Italians. Our extended family fills up our courtyard on one side, but it’s the Ravensgaard who surround it. They’re not dressed in the 17th century costume we are expected to don for these gatherings. They wear the classic Ravensgaard fighting cloths, seal skin pulled tight against their torsos, weapons glistening and tucked in to belts. They line the battlements across the top of the castle walls, standing as sentinels looking down upon us. And then behind my family there is another row of Ravensgaard, the family of Castle Brannach, undoubtedly come to pay their respects to El Oso and Lord Van Arend.
I clip the rabbit stole on, the prize from the last hunt. It’s not that I want to wear it, but I’m expected to. The dead animal is a badge of honor and respect; a mark of our brutal dominance.
Despite our tardiness, our timing is perfect. The trumpet sounds again, making me jump. Katrina gives me a sharp gaze. Hanneke giggles and we all stand to attention facing the open gates of Muiderslot castle.
I grip the soft white fabric of my skirt, rustling it beneath my fingers. I’m about to see Willem and suddenly my hands feel damp and tremulous. So much has changed between us since last summer. A brief kiss in the woods and now letters written back and forth in his long swooping handwriting.
Lord Van Arend and El Oso stride across the draw bridge and through the castle gate side-by-side, the center of the power of the Order. I’m taken aback by how we live. The ancient world of the shifters with rigid rules, arranged marriages, organized fealty, and brutal repercussions, seems to clash so strongly with a modern existence where somebody can travel from the other side of the world in a day.
Yet El Oso and even Lord Van Arend prefer to keep to our rigid rules. Even now they are in step. I suppose that’s a good sign. Although El Oso is technically elected as the Grand Master of the Order, my parents speak in soft voices by the fire when they think we are busy reading or playing games. I know the Ravensgaard and eagles rumble that it’s not right for one shifter to be the Grand Master of the Order for so long. But who is going to stand against a Berzerken? Especially when there are so many of them? My parents believe El Oso wants complete control of the Order rather than having to share it equally with Lord Van Arend and Lord Kusama.
El Oso is a Berzerken, a shifter that can turn into a bear. A silver cape balloons around his hulking frame and covers the blue and silver colors of his velvet coat. His face is heavy with rolls of flesh and his skin has the sheen of sweat on it, even though there’s a chill in the air. It is said he’s over a hundred years old, but his hair is a dark gun metal gray that seems his natural color rather than a sign of aging.
Behind El Oso and Lord Van Arend come the Berzerken. Not all of them at first, just a few. Enough to show that the power of the Order lies in El Oso’s massive paws. Each Berzerken is enormous, even the women, and every ounce seems to be made of tight, trained muscle. Their feet pound a heavy rhythm as they march across the draw bridge. I’m surprised the earth itself does not shake. Their power and presence makes the hair on the back of my arms stand up. It’s no wonder El Oso can claim so much authority. He has the might to back him up.
Amid the Berzerken, they carry an iron cage. They are bringing an offering for the hunt. The birds all lean forward to see what is hiding behind the bars. A flash of red, a high-pitched yip. It’s a fox. Tomorrow we will hunt fox.
But, none of that matters right now, because I see him. The man walking just behind Lord Van Arend. Willem. My mother’s cousin’s son, Heir to the Kortsrijk, my second cousin once removed, and my pen pal for the last year. He rounds the corner with his mother and his sister on either side of him.
After last summer filled with horse rides and hunts, we discovered a mutual love for the outdoors and the four-legged furry things. I was shocked when he first wrote me. It was so unexpected and when our letters kept crisscrossing the ocean, I realized I needed Greta’s help to hide them from my parents. Willem didn’t seem to care, though I know it would look bad if the Heir seemed to be playing favorites among my sisters. But still the letters came. They weren’t all flowery and verbose, at least not in the beginning. Then they just were telling me about California. How he spent his mornings at the manor being tutored, midday in training with the Ravensgaard, and afternoons on the sunny hot beaches. He studied all aspects of government, fiscal responsibility, and history that would make him capable of leading Muiderkring West one day. He was focused on being a good standing member of the Order.
I responded to every letter flying them to the post office myself. Making sure they went directly to the mailbox. It was dangerous for me to go into a human store if my father found out. Still I figured it was just as bad if any of my letters were discovered. I told Willem about the dogs and the view of the water from my tower window. About our castle grounds, which he knew well in the summer, but he didn’t know of the snow and sleet and ice that made up our winter months. Eventually I shared with him my secret trips to watch the humans. I asked him how much interaction he had with humans, though his life in California seemed as sheltered as mine here.
It seemed we were growing a strong friendship before it became romantic and he started mentioning the Matching. He wrote about how much he would hate to marry someone he didn’t know. And he said he would try to see if he could influence his father to see if we could be matched.
That’s why, now, as I watch him walk onto th
e castle grounds, I’m scrunching up a corner of my dress and antsy to see his face.
It takes him a second to spot me in the crowd, still he knows where to look. The third daughter. We all have our place.
But when our eyes meet there’s not the joyful reconciliation I was expecting.
He walks stiff and assured. There’s no exterior indication of all the long conversations we shared in our letters. It almost seems that I was writing to somebody else.
But when I see the whisper of a smile and a small nod of his head, I know he’s the recipient of my letters. We have a bond, I don’t know how deep it is, but it’s deep enough for me to see clearly that something is deeply troubling him.
3
“Wow, he’s gotten so magnificent.” Hanneke’s breath is cake sweet as she stares at Willem.
My fingers dig into the soft gray fur of my rabbit stole as I adjust it around my shoulders. My little sister doesn’t need to know my heart is racing, wondering when he’s going to come over and speak with me.
I glance quickly around the garden. Willem’s at the center of the apex of power. He stands with El Oso and his father, chatting with the Ravensgaard and Berzerken, catching up with our other eagle cousins and slowly making his way to where my sisters and I congregate by the dessert table.
“Who do you think they’re going to pick for him?” Hanneke asks.
“It doesn’t matter.” Katrina whacks Hanneke’s hand with her fan, stopping her from grabbing more cake.
“Not me, I hope.” Mais’s jowls wobble as she nods her head.
I tear my gaze from Willem and quickly scan my sisters. Of the four of us, one will not be matched. Mais and Katrina are perfectly trained to be Ladies of the Manor. Hanneke, though young, would be the most devoted bride. But we’ve all mostly agreed that she will be the one who goes unmatched.
“What do you think?” Mais chuckles at me.
I stroke my rabbit stole. It’s easy to stand in the group of women and look Willem up and down. But I hate how I need to measure each one of my actions against what might be considered normal. Willem’s black trousers, with the gold Van Arend insignia flowing down the side, have flair. But it’s not his pants that catch my attention; it’s his confident presence. He holds himself like the one who will ultimately rule the Eagles. I can’t quite fathom why I’ve seen little of the smiles and none of the laughter that he had last summer during our time together. It will be good when we can leave this crowd and I can ask him what’s going on.
“He’s going to marry one of us.” Hanneke’s wistful gaze follows Willem as he moves further into the throng.
My younger sister is growing up and it’s clear she’s got the hots for Willem. “It’s probably not going to be you.” I cringe at how cruel my words sound, but Hanneke just shrugs.
“I know,” she says as if it’s of little importance. “But I can dream, can’t I?”
“I do,”Mais leans in, her ample chest pressing up against my arm as she lowers her tone to keep her words from Hanneke.”Imagine having sex with him.” Her voice dissolves into giggles as she watches the heat rush up my face.
Katrina clucks her tongue and taps her fan on Mais’s arm. “You pretend he can choose whom he will marry.”
“Maybe Willem can,” I say. “You don’t know what arrangement his father has made with the Grand Master.”
Mais rolls her eyes. “No one ‘makes arrangements’ with El Oso.”
Katrina’s sharp blue eyes narrow as she looks down her long nose at me. When she looks at me like this, every particle of her dangerous eagle nature stabs at me.
“It may be the 1970’s somewhere,” Katrina says. “But look at us.” Her hand motions at the formal white gowns with broad skirts and corset tops. “Does it look like it’s the 70s here? We are stuck in arranged marriages with no liberation in sight. Get used to it.”
Hanneke twirls in her lace dress, watching the ruffles dance just above the green lawn. “I never want to take it off,” she laughs.
“You will,” Mais winks at her. I elbow Mais and shake my head. There’s plenty of time for Hanneke to learn about the birds and the bees without us pushing her to it.
“The alliance of the Order has protected the shifters for centuries,” Katrina says. “No matter what Lord Willem thinks of his Matching, he won’t say a word. Nobody speaks against the Grand Master. Not even the Van Arends.”
“And neither will you, little sister.” Mais tosses a warning frown at me. I swallow. There’s a flash of knowing in her look. Does she know of the exchange of letters?
“Why would you want to?” asks Hanneke. “Just look at that dreamboat.”
“I don’t know.” Katrina shrugs, and her gaze floats to Pierre, our poetic French cousin. He’s an eagle on father’s side of the family and has a fabulous chateau on the outskirts of Lyon. It’s one of the few places we’ve been allowed to visit.
My stomach tightens. Our fate, our future, our entire lives will be sealed in the next few days as we are linked to one of our cousins and expected to live with them, love them, and bear their children. There’s no such thing as divorce in shifter society. It simply isn’t done.
And there’s a very real possibility that despite what I want, and hopefully what Willem wants, too, that he may not be matched to me.
“Get ahold of yourselves, sisters.” Katrina quickly taps her fan on my shoulder. “He’s headed this way.”
“With his sister,” I murmur. Like us, she wears a formal white Matching gown. Though, even the full skirt does nothing to hide the sharp angles of her body as she leans over and whispers into her brother’s ear.
I strain to hear. Even with shifter ears, I can’t make out her words. I’m not sure I need to. Her blond hair is pulled back from her long face, and her eyes take in each of us as she, undoubtedly, passes judgment. Annalise has always been like this. Treating us as if we were specimens to be inspected. She shakes her head at Mais in disapproval, as if she’s in charge of selecting her brother’s match and it couldn’t possibly be my rotund sister.
Makes me want to punch her.
“I don’t think any of us are going to meet with her approval,” I say.
Katrina shrugs. “It’s not necessary.”
If anyone can hold their own in a look-down-your-nose competition, it’s my big sister, Katrina. And that’s probably why Annalise has always gone the easiest on her.
“True,” Mais says. “But one of us is going to marry her brother. So, we might want to think about making friends.”
“Don’t we try that every summer?” I whisper at her as Katrina steps forward to greet our cousins.
“How was running the gauntlet?” She smirks at Annalise, completely ignoring Willem. It’s the perfect way to get on Annalise’s good side, make her feel more important than her younger brother.
“You know everyone only cares about the Heir.” She lowers her eyes as she raises her shoulders briskly. Despite all the women’s lib going on in the human world, shifters still follow medieval custom and the eldest son inherits everything, regardless of whether there’s an eldest daughter or not.
“Hi, Willem.” It’s impossible how carefully I gauge the tone of my voice. It’s not to hide my feelings from Willem, rather from my sisters and cousin. “How’s your year been?” I want to roll my eyes and my words. I sound like a du fus.
“Come on.” Mais motions us towards the hedges. “Let’s split the pomp and circumstance a bit.” She rolls her eyes towards the gathering full of eagles, Berzerken and Ravensgaards.
Sounds good to me. There’s a much better chance I can get some time alone with Willem.
“I would love to get your opinion on our latest tulip crop.” Katrina pulls Annalise into a conversation angled to sooth the American girl’s ego and make her opinion the focal point of our group. Katrina is so good at politics. She’d make a good match for Willem. Her innate skills and position in our family make her a natural leader. But then she’d have Willem. A wa
ve of tension surges through my muscles. That can’t possibly happen.
Mais follows them, her arm jiggling as she waves Rolf to join us. Our bulky German cousin is at the drinks table, but he ambles over at Mais’s beckoning. Mais and Rolf have always been close. If Lord Van Arend is smart, he’ll have made sure El Oso picks Mais and Rolf as a match.
Pierre and Giancarlo join us, speaking so rapidly I can barely make sense of it. It takes me a moment to realize that Pierre is speaking in French and Giancarlo is speaking in Italian. Both gesticulating and intense in their debate. They both seem like bad matches for Katrina and Annalise. But we all must be betrothed to someone.
I chew on my lower lip.
Willem falls into step between Hanneke and me. Though I can’t see her, I would bet quite a few gilders that she is as red as a scarlet rose being so close to him. Her childlike crush is no secret.
“Are you ready for the hunt tomorrow?” Willem asks.
“Agi is,” Hanneke hooks her arm through mine.
Willem chuckles, the low rumble stirs something within me. Something that makes me want him to laugh more.
“I bet she is.” He smiles down at Hanneke and pulls her hand through the crook of his arm, patting it gently. Hanneke’s face pales.
“Hanneke has been training, too.” I clasp my hands in front of me.
“Good,” Willem nods. “You’ll want to win tomorrow. They’re making a special dispensation.”
“Really?” I tilt my head to gaze at him. Something doesn’t feel quite right. He looks stiff. I know he must watch his words around Hanneke. Still, he is unsettled.
“My father has agreed that if a woman wins the hunt tomorrow, more specifically, one of you five, they’ll be able to choose their spouse from the eligible bachelors.”
“What?” My feet stumble, and though I recover my steps quickly, my heart is hammering in my chest.
