CHAPTER ONE

When I first met the King, I had no idea who he was. To me, he was just a biased boy with a talent for being obstinate. We met on my first day at the Order of the Stripe. He was dressed in purple, which should have been a dead giveaway, and his rakish blond hair fell in long swipes across his forehead. Grey eyes looked at me with scorn, at my tattered dress and holey leather shoes; but I could see behind his stuffy look to the stormy sea swirling within him.
Before that fated day, I wasn’t ashamed of my appearance.  I knew I was poor, just an old miner’s daughter, but I had only ever known my tiny village and its people.  Once, when I was younger, about seven, I saw a girl, not much younger than me, clothed with a man’s suit jacket hastily sewn up. She was a slight figure, gangly and so small. This poor girl wore the tattered sleeves rolled up, leaving her forearms dirty and bare, and you could see just a hint of blank fabric sewn into a pair of trouser type underwear. Her hair was filthy and cut to just below her earlobe, probably to get rid of lice and fleas.
Eventually, the homeless child was taken away by the Upkeepers of Justice. We all assumed she had been taken to be cleaned or given to the child care system, a disgusting building filled with sniveling and dirty children. It was rumored that they were only given one meal of rotten cheese and soggy bread, and that they were worked from sun up to sun down. The people there were harsh and unforgiving and held every mistake against the children. Even months after her disappearance, I couldn’t get her hollow cheeks and the shadows around her black eyes out of my mind. She was embossed into my brain.
Now, I was hardly any different from the girl from so many years ago. My father was either busy in the mines, drinking, or sleeping on his “gal from down South’s” couch. While he was rich in money, clothes, and yes, getting into girls’ pants, I was stuck working for the terrible Mr. Eves, a merchant from Russia whose favorite sayings were, “Get to vork, girl, you are vasting space!” and “Vhy are you not holding da vroom!” So I was to spend my life working for a foreign man who didn’t get the concept of the “W” or “B”.  My hair remained clingy and insufferably long, hanging to at least my waist, which combined with my blue eyes, was my only defining trait. Both looked murky and dark from the dirt in Mr. Eves’ store.
The King was just an immaculately dressed boy who passed by the shop with lonely and hating eyes. I was a mere shadow, an opportunity for him to test his new scornful looks on, an onlooker. It really was my life back then. To blend in with the crowd, watching in awe and confusion at this pretty boy who had everything and hated his freedom, and comparing him to me, a lone girl who had nothing and expected no more. He was not forgotten the day I got out. It was the day where I escaped to the world. The day where everything changed, and like it, or not, he and I would be interlinked in our destinies.
The King came to the merchant’s shop one day, something he did often enough. He was wearing blue. Mr. Eves was out getting more fabric from two towns over, leaving me in charge of the shop. I had just begun sweeping out the blackened floors when my next customer stepped in, the King. He had with him only two guards, which in that time was very unprotected. In his left hand, he carried a piece of parchment, the writing easily identified as his mother’s.
When the King, or rather, the obnoxious village boy, gave it to me, I could see fresh scars marring his honey colored hands. I inhaled sharply and set my eyes on only the paper.
1. Pay for three lengths of cerulean fabric, preferably in satin.
2. Also two lengths of brown suede, your favorite.
3. Ask for tanned boot hides, two full pairs, in black.
4. I need four lengths of white silk for your bride.
5. As well as three lengths of white lace, script and scroll style.
6. Use your best judgment on the specific colors and PAY FOR EVERYTHING!
          I didn’t read through everything at once, rather I went about the store finding several of
each item and offering them to this boy Mr. Eves insisted I be nice to. The blues were near the front, stacked in piles of cardboard tubing. I picked out two rich, but still bright, bolts of fabric, and showed him my choices. He selected a beautiful patterned fabric that when you moved it just so, there was a rainbow of blues. He seemed rather bored still.
At the four cuts of suede, he perked up ever so slightly. The King chose my favorite, which I also knew to be his favorite, the almost black colored leather. I had hand worked it that morning, more so than usual, making it soft, pliable, and velvety under my fingers. The boot hides were easy. I already had the boy’s measurements made into a template for shoes. I took the hides and traced the pattern with black chalk, then took my sharpened shears and cut them out, twice. The leather fabric I wrapped separately, in thick paper I knew wouldn’t dirty.
I was slightly speechless at the fourth request. I had no idea who would marry that boy, let alone properly. The white fabric had to be very special, so I went into the back and found the best bolt of white cloth we had. I had been working on it for years, secretly hoping it might someday become mine. I loathed this boy, but I had no qualms with his wife to be, and she deserved the best for putting up with him. When I brought it out, he looked almost, sheepish.  For the first time in the fifteen years I had seen him, I heard him speak. Very quietly, the King murmured, “It’s perfect.”
I didn’t know why he wouldn’t think so, but I nodded demurely and smiled. I put it neatly in a special wrapping paper and went to get the lace. I could imagine the gown just then, and I knew the exact pattern his mother must have wanted. It was truly perfect, white as snow with threads twisted and sewn into a pattern unlike any I had ever seen before. It was woven into little faces of animals. All wild things, predators, hunting beasts were dancing across the lace. I had no idea why the weaver would pick such a thing to create, but it conveyed the message well. In every little stich, thread, geometric shape, you could nearly hear a lion’s roar, an eagle’s screech, a snake’s hiss.
I brought the fabric out to the King carefully, almost reverently. As I stepped out of the back room, you could see the disbelief in his face, but also something just slightly below the surface. It was something just hinting at suspicion. He looked at it, back at me, and made a sound deep in his chest, a rumbling, almost warning sound. He was growling at me. Even though I did not know it, he was using his royal blood to force me to Shift, something I had never done before.
My bones were stretching, aching. I didn’t know what was happening. I saw his guards, running to him, to me? Something cracked my back, me. Hair was bursting all over me. They were yelling at him, begging him to stop. Someone screamed in anguish, me, tormented, trying to run from my over revolting body. It was too late. The Shifting had already begun.
When I woke up again, I wasn’t in Mr. Eves shop. I was lying down, my four legs beneath me. I was different. I was an animal. What had they done to me? I tried to stand up on my new gangly legs, but I was too unfocused. A woman dressed in green came over to me and helped me to lie down properly, not spread out on the floor. I tried, desperately, to find my bearings, but the woman spoke to me quietly.
“He didn’t know, child. It’s your first time, so I’m taking the pain away. The Shift will happen again soon, and you will have to face it. I’m going to help you sleep for a while.” She placed her hands on my back, covered in fur. They were so cool I decided to let them be. Before I could think of anything else, I fell asleep again.
When I woke, it was to water and ice. A freezing sensation was pouring through my veins. It was there on purpose. Without it, the heat that consumed the rest of my animal body would have overwhelmed me, and I would surely have died. Even now, with the woman’s healing power, the flames bit at my skin. They took away my fur and stripped away my claws. They poured my paws into the molds for hands and feet, and straightened my back and neck. My face was being scrubbed at, taking the beast away and shaping the human inside.
I was back, shivering and naked. My eyes, still hazel as before, I could sense, were closed, but soon would flutter open to put faces to the voices milling around in my head. They were everywhere, but the only one I could recognize was the distant woman in green. She was not the first one to speak to me, however.
“Ah, she awakes!” It was a low, methodical voice, and distinctly male.
“Mr. Eves?” I was shocked to see him there, clothed normally, but different, gentler than before. He nodded. “What happened?”
He smiled grimly, “All will be explained soon, but first, let’s have you bathe and dress. Saki will help you.” My boss motioned to a young girl, whose blond curls were pulled back tightly with pins. I gripped the blanket covering me. It was white, not so unlike from the lace back in the shop. “Take her to the rooms opposite mine, and use the fille d'un an clothing.’’
"Oui, Monsieur." So everybody here spoke French. It wouldn’t be hard for me to learn, but different. I had an affinity for learning languages easily and quickly. For example, when dealing with horses, a filly is a young girl, so fille most likely means girl. The other two words escaped me, but I was sure to learn them soon. Oui is simply “yes”.
“Come, Mademoiselle.” Quietly, I took up my beautiful blanket, wrapped it about me as if a towel and stared down the pairs of eyes that followed me. I wasn’t one to be looked down upon or laughed at. Saki led me to the door and handed me a pair of slippers in the exact white as the blanket. She took me down the corridor, which was lined with doors. The floor was the same color as amber. As the end of the hallway, we headed right, then up a staircase of blue marble. I had never seen anything like it, with tiny veins of cobalt and navy running every way. I tread reverently on the stone. Saki laughed at me, and I smiled but continued to walk lightly.
At the top of the stairs, we turned right again, trailing along the ornate balcony overlooking the hallway’s last room, the dining hall. There were two people in it, a mother and son most likely. The boy’s back was to me, but I could see his muscles rippling under his shirt and tan breeches. He didn’t wear shoes, and his feet were dark like the syrup we used at breakfast. His golden hair flew up as he shook his head at his mother. It was cut to his earlobes, and probably hung over his face.
The mother looked sweet, and demure, but there was a fire running through her as she argued with the boy. Her hair was a black color the exact opposite of his, and it hung to her waist in ringlets, whereas his was straight. She saw me and her blue—no, purple—eyes sparkled. The more I looked, the more I was certain they were blue, but so dark they seemed violet. She didn’t speak my name, or point me out to the boy, so I tugged Saki over. My hand shook from exertion as I pointed to them and asked, “Who?”
Saki looked over and grinned. “Boy King Phillip. Mère is Abigail.”
“He is a King?” He didn’t look like a king. He was strong enough, of course, but very young. Also, from the way he yelled, I’d say he had a violent temper.
“Not a King, our King.”
“I don’t have a King, Saki.” She laughed and shook her head but didn’t say anything else. I followed her past the room below and into an adjourning hallway. The rooms on the left were made of plain, hard oak wood. The ones on the right were covered with silk fabric in rich, vibrant colors. I could tell those were Mr. Eves’.  She pulled a copper key out of the bag she kept tucked close to her side. It fit into the lock perfectly as she twisted it and pushed open the door. She put the key on the dresser next to the bathtub, which suddenly looked heavenly.
I sat down on the stool near the bed while Saki turned on the faucet for the tub deftly. It filled quickly as she gathered the common sweet soap, high end hair soap from the words on the bottle, and a towel and comb. I lay the blanket on the bed and sat in the tub. I took the sweet soap she offered me and worked through the dirt on my body. Working all day at the shop meant I hardly ever got to bathe. The grime fell to the bottom of the tub, where it was scooped up by Saki.  When my skin smarted at the soap, I consented to let her use the hair soap, something I had never used before.
First, she took a copper bucket and filled it directly from the faucet, so she could dump the clean water onto my head. It was hot and stung, but it also got rid of a lot of dirt. It fell in clumps into Saki’s waiting hands. Then, she took the soap bottle and opened it in half, like a book! She took the left side and shook the pink stuff into her hand before working it into my hair. Her hands were covered in dirt when she finished and rinsed off in the dirt bucket. Saki dumped water from the clean bucket over my head again and soaped through with the same liquid.
After she had cleared away that soap and dirt from my hair and the tub, she took the right side and poured it into my hair. There was a lot and she poured it all in. This she smoothed through with her hands and told me not to touch my hair while she drained the tub. I sat still as a hole in the bottom took away all the dirty water. Saki took the copper bucket, filled it with clean water and dumped it on my head. She did this twice more, and I yelped as the hot water hit me a third time.
“Stand up,” she demanded as she handed me a towel. I dried off my body quickly while she dried my hair. She then told me to sit on the stool wrapped in my towel. I conceded. The tiny French girl pulled through my hair with the comb. I waited patiently until she told me I could go to the rack of dresses and pick out my favorite. I made a face at the fancy ones, preferring my breeches and tunic, but picked out a simple dinner gown. It was a deep red with a white belt at my waist. Saki looked at my choice, smiled, and helped me to lace up the back. She also took a sewing needle and thread at my request and stitched the sleeves higher than my elbow at the inside and let it hang down on the outside. When I saw the one Indian tradition the French country imitated, a dupatti scarf, I smirked. My old one had been black in mourning for Mère and Père, but this one was beautiful, a sheer cream material with lace stitching in the same pattern as the lace I had given to the arrogant village boy.
Saki appraised me then asked, “Would you like to see?”
I laughed, “Don’t keep me waiting any longer!” She pulled out a full mirror. I was so different. My hair was the same dark red as the dress which made my pale grey eyes stand out. My skin was dark from the sun, brown like coffee and cream. The dupatti scarf was wrapped tightly around my shoulders. My feet were bare, which Saki fixed abruptly with cream satin heels, giving me an extra two inches of height. The white belt I had cinched in tight giving me a tiny waist. It contrasted sharply with the black ribbons laced up the back. I was pretty and, more importantly, clean.
Saki smiled at my appearance. “Yes, you ready. Give me a moment to change.”
“Wait! Saki! What am I ready for?” She had already disappeared into the rooms next door. I spent a few moments thinking about what I could possibly be going to next. Finally, I gave up and looked around my room. The room I was standing in now was a sitting room, with a pink conch shell couch, a black armchair and loveseat, all trimmed with thick, ornate gold rope. The floor was gold cherry. Above the loveseat was a mirror, its heavy border matching the exact grey of my eyes. In the center, sort of acting as the heart of the room was a transparent grey table whose legs were engraved to be rope like and painted with gold leaf. A fire crackled merrily in its hollow place under the mantle.
The bathing room was no bigger than a closet. In the light from the lamp I brought in, I could see there was a shelf of the same cherry wood of the sitting room floor. There were three buckets on it, two copper and one iron. The two copper were the biggest, also the same in size. They were labeled, one “DIRTY” and one “RINSING”. The metal one was nearly a cup in size. It was labeled “WAX,” and filled to the brim with a hardened solid made from candle lard. I had no idea why you would use wax for bathing. I made a mental note to ask Saki later. My closet was also in there, filled with dresses, some for evening and daytime, some for balls and feasts.
The bathing room acted as a hallway between the sitting room and sleeping chamber. It was big, the biggest of the three. The bed was the main statement, made up with a fluffy pink comforter and burnt gold sheets. The shams were black with grey carnations and the throw was a dark red, miming the cherry color of the floor.
Near the wall, on the floor, lay shoes of every style and color. Also, there was a corner desk covered with the thing I missed the most from Mr. Eves’ shop. Fabric covered the table, scissors and needle and thread littered around. My patterns from the shop were piled in a box on the floor. The first I pulled out was the village boy’s boot. I frowned and put it back in the box. The second was a sundress that would easily fit me.  I slowly put it on the table and vowed to work on it later.
There was a vanity table with each drawer painted with a fleur-de-lis. It also had a connected mirror, this one in a natural birch wood border.  Each drawer was lined with silk. The first had curling pins of all different sizes, the most prominent good for creating big, loose curls. The second had a serum for straightening and a cotton towel; the next had tiny ribbons and pins to hold styles. Makeup filled both the fourth and fifth. There was whitening powder, lip stains, eye powders made from the roots found outside, blush and nail stains.
I had my completed my tour the moment Saki stepped back in. She smiled at my glee from the fabrics. “Mr. Eves said,” she stopped and recited. “The King thought you might like them and sent him to collect them.”
“He knows quite a lot about me, this King I’ve never met.” I was more of a statement than the question I wanted to ask. “Please thank him for me.”
“You tell him.”
“Where will I tell him, Saki? Why would he talk to a girl of my station?”
“You tell him-dinner.”
“Wh-what? I c-can’t meet…”
“Mademoiselle, we hurry or be late.” I wanted to ask her more questions, but the thought of making the King wait put me off. I walked to the door after her waiting eyes. “Good, we go now.”
We headed back down the corridor to the balcony where I could see down into the now crowded dining room. The King sat, again with my back to me, talking to his mother and a man. Before anyone could see me, I hurried on to the staircase. I lovingly floated over the blue marble, a hint of a smile on my lips. We stopped at the first door.
Saki grinned, “You sit at King’s left. Mère on right, must be civil. Curtsey to King, advisor, and Mère. Good luck!” She opened the door and announced me. “Mademoiselle Margret Evesgirl Marklei, Honored guest of King Philip and Mère Abigail of Marklei Court.”
Everyone stood and looked at me. I smiled sweetly and quietly. I kept my eyes on the King’s boots. Brown almost black boot hides in a familiar cut. I had made those boots, and I had even cut them that morning. I sunk down into my deepest curtsey, which wasn’t very deep from the aching in my bones.  “King Marklei and Mère Abigail.” I looked up at the blue purple eyes of Mère, waiting.
He chuckled, “Come, join us Mademoiselle de honneur.”
“Your Highness, I would be most honored.” I took tiny steps to my chair on the left, where to my surprise, Mr. Eves joined me. I waited for King Phillip to be seated as everyone else did. When he did not, I realized he was waiting for me to look at him. I smiled and burned a hole through his chest. When he still would not sit, I reluctantly met an arrogant village boy’s gaze. His eyes were so clear and focused, an odd gray color tearing through my soul.
I smirked as we sat, “Do you think it wise, Your Highness, to make all your guests wait on a shop’s girl?”
He reached for the turkey in front of us, tore off a piece to put on his plate, and put a second piece on my plate. “Here, Mademoiselle, you are a Mlle de honneur. They will wait as long as you make me wait.”
“Then you think it wise to jest a girl with no knowledge of your language. Besides, I hardly think I could make you wait.” I ate a bite of the turkey, which was very good and moist. I took the wineglass by me and drank a sip. The alcohol just sharpened my mind.
“Ah, but you have made me wait a very long time. If Mr. Eves get his way, it will be an even longer time.”
I changed the subject because I had no idea what he was talking about. “You forced me to Shift.”
“Yes, because you came out with lace of Shifters.” I paused in eating the vegetables on my plate, and took another sip of wine.
“What did I become? What are you? How did you make me Shift?”
“The first you will answer yourself. I am a lynx because the highest Shifters are predator cats. I made you Shift because I am of royal blood and have the same powers an Alpha would have over a wolf pack, and the additional Shifting powers.”
“Mr. Eves, what does the King mean about your way?” I spoke quickly to the man on my left.
“Are you done, girl?” I nodded. “Then I suggest we take that conversation to the King’s sitting room.” He looked to King Phillip for assurance.
He stood up and addressed the table. “I will be retiring now, so please continue your dinner here and make your way to the guest rooms or my servants will see you to your carriages outside. Bonne nuit!”
“Bonne nuit, Roi Phillip!”  They spoke back, reverently. Mr. Eves, Mère Abigail and I stood up and followed him out. I was not surprised when we went up the stairs to the rooms in my corridor next to Mr. Eves’ rooms.
The king’s rooms were blasé, blank. The walls were forest green, the floors dark cherry, the furniture hard, structured oak. A fire cackled next to a bear skin rug on the floor, which my dark slippers sank right into.
“Margret, come sit near the flames.” Mère Abigail says to me. I sit in the warm brown chair across from her. She gathers her golden skirts around her and tucks a silver curl behind her ear. “My boy, he did not realize you were a Shifter. It startled him, I think.”
“Mère, I did not know until he forced me, either.”
I knew this would shock her, but her reaction was much stronger than I expected. “You did not know your own nature? Oh, child it must have been suppressed many times. How old are you?”
“Nineteen, I think. My parents died long ago, and when Mr. Eves took me in, I was still a child.”
“That’s much too old for you to not have Shifted at all. Perhaps you Shifted in your youth. Do you have any idea who your parents were?”
“I always called them Sophie and Bastian D’amond.” I paused, “That wasn’t their real name, was it?”
“I do not believe so,” Mère said sadly, “but I’d like to believe they were as kind as their names suggest.”
“The world is becoming so much bigger than I’d used to think it was, as small as my hometown.”
“There are so many treasures to be seen: Rome, London, the new cities in the Americas! And you have not yet seen the whole of France!”
“Mère, I wish you would not fill our mlle with fantasies of the world beyond.” King Phillip sighed to his mother. It was nothing more than a whisper on his lips.
“You get to see the world, but I, your own Mère, have to sit at home and wait for your return.”
“It is not safe for you to come with me. You know that.”
“We are getting off track,” Mr. Eaves interjected.
I grumbled at his statement, “How can I get off track when I do not know what we are supposed to be talking about?”
“We are supposed to be talking about you.”
  King Phillip looked nervous and agitated. His emotions were steaming out of him in waves. “I will just tell you. Margret, I’d like you to become my wife.”
I blinked. Stopped. Looked around at the room where I was just asked to become Queen. I was drifting, floating. My mind stopped thinking. All just in a second.
“I do not know, Roi.” I quickly used the term of reverence and awe his French subjects used.
“I have a proposal for you, if you would like to hear it.” Mr. Eaves spoke out.
I c***ed my head slightly, just to the left. “Tell me, please.”
“Your first Shift was strangely painless.” He began.
“I wouldn’t call it painless, Monsieur.” I cringed, thinking about the ice in my veins.
“Comparatively, it was. I think you have extreme power. Maybe you are even an elemental user: water, earth, air and fire.” I perked up just slightly at the mention of fire. Mr. Eaves saw. “Yes, fire, too. I would like to enroll you in the Order of the Stripe. It is headed by Sasha Tigerstripe. There is, however, a catch, though with an upside I would think. If you do join your past memories will be wiped. A few you will remember: your decision, my name, Mère. You will not remember your name.”
“I like my name!”
“If you wish, I can instruct her to give you the same name.” I was startled by the offer for sure, but I was comforted slightly by his generosity.
“I don’t know what to think right now. I do know, however, that if I decided to go, I would want nothing unique about my situation from the others. Phillip, what do you think?”
His deep gray eyes were cloudy and unfocused. “Margret, I am not a choice-maker. If it were left up to me, I would keep you here to be my wife forever, and to let everyone see how happy you will make me. I am not a jail keeper. I see how you sew and design; you do not look at me like you do your fabrics. I think, because you have only ever seen me unhappy, you would not be happy here. Perhaps, I shall come and court you in the Order. You can see the true me and decide if you like him. Yes, that is the decision I give you, mlle d’ honneur.”
I sat still in the leather chair. Mère was looking at me with a firm, and questioning look. Phillip was glancing at me, and at Mr. Eves, maybe for reassurance? It was the longest he’d ever spoken to me. I should have hated him, for what he did to me, yet after that confession, all I wanted was to make him happy. He had hardly used any French, so I understood every word. He loved me, and he was setting me free. I was so confused, waiting and wondering for any sign or indication about what to do.
I looked at the King’s face. It would be perfect to draw, and I wished hard for my sketchbook and pencils. He had high, arching cheekbones, and a petite nose. His lips were lopsided, full on the bottom and thin on top. They always seemed to have a tiny quirk to them, like he would smile at any moment. His eyes were the gray of a foggy dusk, large and seemed to reflect any light in the room. His right eye was covered, starting at his eyebrow’s arch, by his hair, which he never seemed to like. Everything about him seemed to have a high point and a low point.
I could learn to like him, maybe even love him like a brother, but seeing his traitorous past days in the village, I couldn’t love him as his wife, as Queen! However, I couldn't just reject the King of France! So I had to forget those memories, learn about this new Roi, my Roi.
“Phillip.” He raised his head in inch. I pushed his chin up, which was bold of me, but I would soon forget it anyways. I made the King look at me, the old miner’s daughter. “Phillip. I will go into this Order. I cannot marry you this way. But I will make you happy, Roi. I will learn to Shift, to control myself, and learn manners. You must give me time to learn this, you understand? Then you will come and I will love you well, with all my heart. Do not forget me, yes?”
He nodded. “My memory of you will stay clear as the day break. Remember, no matter where you are: the sun will always rise in the east, set in the west, and have supper in between.”
I laughed, “You must tell me this, when we meet again.”
“Alright.” I kissed his cheek on the corner of his lips and we both smiled. “Bonne nuit, Margaret.”
I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been shivering with fear. I shouldn’t have wanted to run back to Phillip. Did I really agree with Mr. Eaves? It was all so confusing. My memory was dissipating with every step, and, soon, there would be nothing left. It was a foggy haze over my eyes, which seemed more and more like the pathway to my memories.
Mr. Eaves said we could leave at daybreak tomorrow, but if I would like, we could stay longer. I didn’t want to stay. I mustn’t stay. I had to do everything I could to stay away from the King in those last few hours. I was certain it would break my heart.  I had lost too many people already. My fabrics were all I have left.
When I got back to my room, I didn’t go to pack. I tread quietly to the work space. First, I took the boot pattern, and I made the best pair of hunting boots Phillip would ever have. I carved little wildcats all around the top. A lynx crouched in the middle of their friendly circle. I hoped they would protect him. Next, I took a piece of red fabric and traced it in the sundress pattern from earlier. I gave it a green, almost black belt, from which tiny black and green flowers crept up. On the inside of the belt, I did my finest embroidery words.
Roi Phillip Marklei
All I could hope was that the leaders would let me keep the dress and its secret message. Then, I packed. I took my pretty red dinner gown, drenched in scarlet, three pairs of shoes: a silver sparkle heel, a deep red wedge, and forest green work flats, the new red sundress, a tan tunic and black breeches. I kept two ribbons for my hair, one orange, and one black.
I also packed a blank journal. Inside the front cover, I drew a lynx again. Of course, I brought most of my fabrics and a few patterns. I sighed and put Phillip’s boot sketches back. That was all I could take. What else do you bring to a new life? Quietly, I stumbled over to the lush bed, stripped off my dress and slipped under the covers. When I woke, I would be leaving my old life.
The light from the lone window in my room warmed my face as Saki shook me awake. I smiled at the blue skies outside, painted with wisps of milky clouds. Saki’s face was inviting, but she was frowning harshly. I knew most of the castle would not be happy with my decision to leave their King alone, but I didn’t expect it to be so vehement, especially in sweet Saki.
She remained almost demure as she helped me into a plain green dress with an orange belt. The color combination was odd, but it was almost the Order’s uniform: anything in orange, green, black or white was alright.  I swiped on a green eye shadow and pleaded with Saki to loosen the ties so I could breathe. She did not.
“Lady knows pain-she beautiful.” Although I didn’t agree with her, I assumed she knew what was best.  I braided my hair and tied it with the orange ribbon, fit my feet into white traveling flats that came up to my ankles-a lady’s boot. I smiled as we walked to the dining room by the blue marble staircase. The trip on the balcony made me sad to remember Phillip and his mother standing below. I saw, in the room, that Mère was waiting for me, so I quickened my step.
Breakfast was ham, oatmeal and a mix of fruit. Everything was delicious. Mère and I chatted about trivial things: work (for me, of course), how to be a queen, the weather and the newborn puppies. They had been born last night, and the total of the group was seven. They were all collies, tiny, warm and adorable. Mère liked a white and black fur ball. She gave him the name Drago. I assumed that meant dragon in French. My favorite was a loud boy who couldn’t seem to stop barking. I named him Theron, which means “untamed”. Theron’s sister seemed attached; so I named her “friend”, Amitee.  The other four were Louise, Lamarr, Melanee, and Rui.
As they played around my feet, I felt happy and content. I let my growing fears wash away for a while. All too soon, Mr. Eaves told me it was time to go. I sighed and laid my plate on the planks of the floor for the dogs and followed his tall form out the door. We walked a ways on the stone lined marble to get to the door and its package, a satin covered carriage pulled by a single horse whose coat was the exact color of Phillip’s hair.
It seemed the whole castle stood outside the front door to see us off. All of the dining guests, servants, and even Mère stood in her white dress. She looked like something out of a picture book: a wind whipping her hair around her face, dress blowing, and a small smile on her face as she waved goodbye. The man I wished to see, needed to see, even, was not outside with the rest of them. I could just see his black hair in his rooms on the second floor, his face drawn and immobile. It crushed me to leave him, but I silently held up my hand and watched his face and my hand tremble equally. Tears silently tracked down my face, then seemed to flow right out of me.
Mr. Eaves took my hand and held it tight, whether in comfort or in case I might try to run back, I didn’t know. I had just started to settle down for the bumpy ride when we stopped. It had been only around half an hour. “Are we stopping to rest?” I asked Mr. Eaves.
He smiled, “It doesn’t take very long to get here.” He stepped out of the carriage and dismissed the footman. Instead, he offered me his hand, which I gladly took and descended into a forest glade. Heavy vines twisted up tall birches outlining the circle. The grass was such a bright green: it seemed to contrast with my dress, only a few shades darker. The sky was brighter, too, than before, a burning white-blue color, disturbed by a lone cloud and the sphere of golden sunlight.  The smells of fire, dirt, and newness were everywhere; they combined in the thick and hot air, stoic in the sky.
Mr. Eaves turned me around to see five members: three human, and two Shifted. I took a breath and closed my eyes to remind myself that I was the same as them. Soon, I would be them. They all had clear, understanding eyes that pitied, somehow, Mr. Eaves. I wondered why and waited to be addressed. The tallest, a woman with red hair and brown eyes and skin the color of cocoa, spoke first.
“Welcome, child of the Stripe. We wish to congratulate you on your acceptance of the Order. Not many can lose all of their past.” She had a pretty, kind smile, but her eyes were worn and tired. “I am Trisha. I am the leader of the Stripe right now, but you will probably meet the next in your lifetime. Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes,” thinking of Phillip I restated, “Oui.”
She turned her chocolate eyes to the mural of trees around us, the shadows seeming to meld with the sunlight’s sparkling beams. It was almost tangible: how the trees quivered with something just beyond reality. Magic. It was a lover’s kiss, a silent cry, a silver teardrop. It was as mixed as the batter in Christmas cookies. Bittersweet and sad and just as knowing as the wise old monks secluded in the mountains, it made me shiver with anticipation.
Out of the painting-like background came a battalion of women at Trisha’s haunting call. “Come, my warriors, we have a memory to take, new daughter to make.” There were at least a hundred members standing with an air of regal grace. Lionesses, wolves, a smallish tiger, birds, and woodland female creatures entwined with human women. There were none alike: dark skin, fair hair, light skin, red hair. They wore different clothing: most wore breeches and a tunic, though some wore a light dress.
All, even the Shifted, wore a pendant. It was shimmery and transparent. Through the emerald glass orb struck an amber lightning bolt. Tiny gems were scattered and attached to the inside of the circle. The crown piece that held the loop for the thin white gold chain was decorated with a tiny carving of an animal, and double emeralds. I knew I would remember this after my new beginning.
Tasha began with an unexpected gift.
I take your pain
You must endure
Save it for when you are laid
On the cold bed of death.
When he has you to lure
To sleep, you may remember
All Phillip’s wicked deeds.
If you love and he love back
Perhaps death will not pack
Your story’s long tale to stagnation.
But give you an immunization.

She gave me a promise:
“We of Stripe and we who know, vow not to change your future told.
We promise to care, nurture, protect you, love and share with you.
We pledge to uphold your asked statement: to reunite you with our roi, to make you our Queen, and to bind our kingdom together.”
This was the exact statement I had thought to Phillip earlier that day when we had left.
She gave me a ceremony. The animals hummed, rumbled, or sang, the girls danced and twirled harmoniously with the unheard beat. Tasha began her song.
We are family. We are friends. We will protect you. Hear us sing!
The wind is washing away the dead. The earth crumbles the bad to dust. The fire hides the good. The river will guard, guide and join these elements to you. In spirit bound, in love found, in life sound will guide your future’s song.
We are family. We are friends. We will protect you. Hear us sing!
Hear us sing! Hear us sing! Sing! Sing! Sing!
The darkness was familiar now, almost welcome. The cold stabbed though. Harsh and painful feelings poked through the hominess. I was Shifting again, this time I realized the sharp stinging of my bones snapping and the thickening of my blood and tightening of my heavy muscles. My eyes stayed the same and my dirt encrusted nails lengthened and turned into sharp claws. My ears crunched as they moved to the top of my head, soft and furry, and I wondered if I was a lynx, like Phillip.
Instead, I was overcome with pain again. My butt tingled as my long tail formed. My hand transformed into thick, warm paws and the ground was nothing beneath them. I was queen of the jungle. I could destroy anything in my path, anything that stood in the way of finding my prey. I was no mere jungle cat. I was no tiger, cougar, or lynx. I was the proud descendant of the original jungle predator: I am Leopard.
I have no name. I have no family. I am Queen. I am the Power in the trees, the Silence in the night. I am the final predator; the terror of the hunt. Smaller animals will cower before me. Larger will run away from my might. Who could dare stop the great fighter the Leopard? I do not mate. I have no interest in males. Humans will quiet in my presence and hurry to photograph my image, if I am generous enough to allow it. Others will run in awe. I do not allow my kind to be captured or imprisoned, excepting the small few who want that fate.
Darkness takes over my thoughts as I finish my soliloquy. I wait. The first thing that happens next is the bubbles.  Tiny bright lights float in front of my closed eyes. I will myself to wake. I want to run and hunt and pounce, but something hard keeps me silent, and I do not stir. It is gossamer thin but heavy as a lion, and the thread reminds of the string of a balloon held by a fully grown man. I can struggle against it and it will bend and twist but not break.
Next, I can hear sounds above me. A human’s voice: a woman speaking to me.
“Melinda! Melinda, try not to struggle much. We’re trying to help you!” I can hear the shuffle of her feet and the padding of an animal following her. Was I in the Order now? The only reason I remembered my name is that the woman told it to me, but I could recall my decision to enter the Order and the song they made to Shift me. Their power together could Shift me without the intention, which meant there had to be at least many hundreds of them.
Now, I can feel the soft blanket I was curled up on. It had to be a comfy sort of wool or the softest of cottons. Scents attacked my nose. The smell of jungle rocks and trees, my own identifier was strongest. The blanket’s sterile yet familiar scent—something I couldn’t place. Two Shifters specific aromas: the high-and-mighty smell of a lioness, and the flowery odor of a woman’s perfume.
I opened my eyes to three figures: the woman, Trisha; the lioness, who bowed her neck in submission; and a tiny tiger cub. When I had smelled her earlier, I automatically dismissed her as a harmless, though adorable, addition to the room. Trisha was looking at me, waiting, but I skipped over her to the glass wall next to her corner. The space behind it was decorated as a formally furnished living quarters.
There was a dark velvet setee and two hard wood chairs, lined with plush fabrics in the same purple as the couch. A dark tea table had a silver tea set perched lightly on white linen embroidery. The table itself had a copper engraving of a Leopard, a Lynx and a Tiger. They seemed to be laughing at something out of the picture. Also in the room was an empty fireplace with cold ashes and an ornamental mantle. Someone had gathered a few Chinese fans in a beautiful hand weaved basket; their splashes of bright red and gold and dull black and white paper stood out against the pastel walls and rich furniture in the overall color palette.
There were three more women in that room. One was my human age with blond hair and a deep fuchsia pink gown with a pleasant smile, while another was a brunette with red streaks and a determined look in her eyes. The last was an older lady with curious purple grey eyes. She was focused entirely on her embroidery. She seemed familiar somehow. I sighed and turned to the lion in the corner.
Lady, do you have a woman’s clothes for me to wear?
Of course, Miss. They are there on the table next to your chair.
My attention cleared and I realized that I was sitting on a luxurious fuzzy chair. A blanket was draped over it, under me, keeping me warmer than necessary in the summer heat. I lifted my head over to the specified clothing. It was gorgeous satin in a pastel orange color with a light forest color lacing and a matching green hat.
I leapt behind the tall chair and prepared to Shift. I gritted my teeth as they flattened. My legs burned and tingled as they lengthened and became smooth and pale. My arms became lanky and just barely tanned, my eyes dulled though the room was much more focused in my human form. Mousy brown hair curled gently down my shoulders. I growled low as my body straightened and untwisted and burned.
I smiled at being back in my normal form, although normal was quickly being defined as the abnormal. I reached out and slipped on the amber evening gown. The brunette in the other room entered the quarters and stepped to me with her eyes steady. I honestly admired her for it.
“May I help tie you up, Lady?”
I grinned at her. “I would appreciate it. I’m Milada. What are you called?”
“I go by Erica. This dress looks lovely on you, Milada. Can I help you fasten your hat?”
“Yes, thank you.” I stepped out from behind the chair, followed by a cheeky Erica. I spun quietly with a small smile on my face at Trisha’s request.
“Very much appreciated, Erica. That’ll be all.”
She nodded, “Of course, Miss Trisha, should I wait outside to guide Milada to her room?”
Trisha addressed her firmly, “Yes, please.” Erica curtsied just barely and exited.
“Well? What do you remember?”
I nearly laughed at her bluntness, but managed to keep it to just a smirk. “Not much. The Order, my decision, but not why, you, a man named Mr. Eaves, a woman called Mère, mother, without a face are all among the past as of now. It seems things trigger what I know.”
She nodded at some of the things and smiled at the mention of Mère and Mr. Eaves. “That is all expected. Welcome to the Order of the Stripe. You obviously know who I am. The lioness is Johanna and the cub is Sasha. Johanna is your dorm mother. Sasha is dorm cub and the next Huntress.”
My eyes widened a bit at this new information placing a huge amount of responsibility on the tiger. “She just accepts it? Doesn’t she ever want to do something different? A little more carefree, I mean.”
“Not really. She is the reincarnation of the first Huntress, and the second one after her. I am the continuation of the second Huntress. We, of course, switch off each generation. Perhaps one in every few millennium is snarky or rebellious, but she quickly learns to know her true nature. But…” She shrugged and let it trail off.
I nodded. “Do I need to know anything else?”
She smiled, no doubt realizing how antsy I really was, no matter how easy it was to talk with her. “Most will be explained later, but your lessons will begin in the afternoon.  Don’t worry, I think you’ll enjoy them. Visitor hours are between two and four o’clock.”
“Lessons? I’ll just trust your judgment on that one.” I tilted my head, so I’m sure I looked like a very confused puppy, and inquired, “Who would be visiting me though?”
“Well, for starters, Mr. Eaves would be happy to come and talk to you, I’m sure. Mère will probably join him some of the time. Anyone you meet outside is welcome to come to talk. Perhaps your friends will bring some young people for you to meet as well.”
I nodded. This made sense. This was rational. I couldn’t quite shake the feeling there was something else I was missing. “Anything else?”
“No, Johanna and Erica will help you to settle here. I expect you’ll be out in the world, in control of your Shifting, of course, by this time next year.” A year to learn everything, from the language to how to Shift flawlessly seemed an incredibly short time, but I smiled and made myself relax, starting with my face down to my toes which wiggled under the soft dress. I involuntarily smiled. Trisha smiled back and nodded to the door.
Erica was bouncing happily outside. “C’mon Milada, I should show you to our rooms. Are you tired? I would be. I mean, I was. Oh, for heaven’s sakes I’m probably talking too much. Johanna says a lady only speaks when spoken to. Are you a lady? You look like one.” All this she said in one never ending breath while leading me down the glass hallways.
The panels should have looked sterile, like we were always being watched, but instead they gave the opposite feeling.  A tidal wave of emotion washed over me, and the ornately carved frosted glass gave me a new sense of home. I knew I would easily fit into these surroundings. I sighed in relief when a pause interrupted Erica’s tale of how she first Shifted into her snowy leopard form. It was an interesting story really, but I was so tired I couldn’t concentrate much.
“Here we are, the highest quarters. I like to think of them as the Sky Rooms.” She took a key from a small satchel around her neck, fitted it into the lock, and opened the tall door. Here there was no glass, but the feeling of home remained. We stepped first into a sitting room. The walls were a perfect cloud white and accents of blue and pink and red were scattered around the room. It was the perfect image of a sunset materialized. I grinned at Erica’s easy pose leaning against the doorframe, she too sported a smile.
There were four doors connecting to the room, so I began to think of it as not only the sitting room, but also the Great room. The first was a bathroom with a massive tub with soap sitting in a cove in the wall. A curtain hung to give the toilet a sense of privacy, along with a basin and pitcher for clean water. The second room held a ginormous closet filled with mostly dresses, but a section in the back held boy’s trousers and tunics and special tight breeches for riding.  Shoes lined the walls: heels, flats, boots, stitched flowers, crystals, and leather.
The third room was Erica’s bedchambers. Light drapes curtained her neatly made poster bed. Her walls were sky blue: a true Sky Room. Delicate daisies were set on a writing table in a frosted glass vase. Sketches littered the fine desk, most were penciled portraits, a few were painted landscapes. A man caught my eye. He had dark, very shadowed hair. His lips were thin and straight, but curved in a mischievous grin that made me want to laugh. His nose was regal, straight, but also very definite. Eyes trailed mine, a grey seaside rain, sad and filled with grief. I got lost in him before saying. “You are very talented, Erica.”
She skipped over and smiled. “That’s Roi Phillip. He’s the King, we’re all French, you see. I’ve met him twice; he’s very kind and slightly rogue, but there’s always a sadness to him. He lost his father, the King, when he was twelve. I imagine it’s very hard to have grown up with the responsibility of being a King. Now they’re saying he lost his Forever Girl, too.” A slight frown crossed her face.
“What’s a Forever Girl?”
She was back to smiling in an instant, but now it was secretive. “A Forever Girl is a royal’s soul mate. The part he needs to be his reason, and his rage. Mere was the late King’s Forever Girl before he died. She lives on because Phillip needs her, because the French need her.”
“Oh my, that’s so sad though.” I frowned.
She looked thoughtful as she reasoned, “I suppose it is, but Shifters need Forever Girls. Well, on to your room then?”
“Gladly.”
My room opened from a teak door, which doubled across the room as a balcony door. Glass windows filled the central walls covered with rich mahogany curtains, and a view of the woods outside stretched along the horizon’s dark sky. My bed was tucked into a corner, a pool of pink and yellow pastels. White hangings were strung from the upper frame, like Erica’s. My desk, this time of a beautiful white oak, was painted with easy brushstrokes to outline fleur-de-lis in regal gold. Red roses were scattered about the room in glass vases.
I walked into the room and laid my hat on the bed. I smiled happily at the homey, yet somehow mysterious feel of the room. A single rose lay on the bed. Attached to it was a note that read,
“Dearest Milada,
I smile to know you successfully entered the Order. Your friend and my advisor, Mr. Eaves, has told me much about you. I hope your expertise in sewing has remained true. Here I’ve provided a bolt of violet fabric, use it to your liking.
Forever Yours,
Phillip Marklei, King of French Shifters
“Oh, my.” I stared a bit at the letter, which both confused me and overjoyed me. The first because I had absolutely no idea why Mr. Eaves was the King’s adviser, or why King Phillip would have any reason to be interested in me. I was jubilant at the cloth, laid in front of a smaller, less ornate door. I couldn’t resist walking over, with Erica at my heels, to the plum colored velvet. I sighed at the door’s contents.
In it was a sewing room filled to the brim. A few of the patterns I recognized as my own, but there were also much fancier, exquisite, designs. Already finely tanned leather was rolled up in a small box, next to a gorgeous table covered with chalk, scissors, and a box filled with spools of thread. I greedily took up the scissors and rushed around the room to find a piece of gold satin. I cut it squarely, after chalking the shape, then sewed up the first side.
“It’s beautiful, Erica. Did you design it?” She nodded energetically; I grinned wide. “I thought so, it is so perfect. Oh, would you mind taking that fabric over to the purples? I imagine you would find it before I did.”
“I don’t mind. What was in the letter?” She grabbed the cloth and set it on a low shelf on the far wall. I began on the second side.
“You best sit down, I wouldn’t want you to faint!” I pointed to the replica of the stool I sat perched upon. 
“Now you’ve got my attention, Milada. Tell me!”
“Here, read for yourself.” I paused and handed her the stationary. I watched as her eyes became rounder and rounder. “Well?” I asked of her silence.
“You were babbling about my room design when you got this?” She scrambled to exclaim. “King Phillip wants to meet you. That’s like—you could become Queen!”
“Whoa, Erica; I have no desire to rule French Shifters. I just found out I was a Shifter for heaven’s sake!” Yet I found myself smiling. What on earth is wrong with me? Why am I even considering this! Just because a man sends you cloth for your favorite pastime does not mean he likes you.  I started the third side on my project.  Ugh, I’m going to become like a love-struck little girl if I can’t pull my head together.
“Who wouldn’t want to be a Queen though? Milada, you have a chance to do something with your second life. What are you planning to do otherwise?”