Chapter 1

One

Victoria

A small part

of me is grateful that the shifter community mirrors that of the human one. There's so much I'd miss out on otherwise. All it takes is one glance at the society papers and gossip columns for the pang of jealousy to make itself known within me. Even now, I still get it. I've had to wait seven extra years to be presented to society. If I'd been human, I would have been presented at eighteen and had my season already.

This would be so much easier if supernaturals were out in the open, then we wouldn't have to all be presented separately and could do it along with the humans. I've heard enough whispers about that being a possibility to think it'll happen in my lifetime, but not in time for tonight.

Because, despite the fact we'll be presented to a Queen of our own, I'll still be going to events with humans. I'll get to make friends and form connections in a way I've never done before.

What happens if I fall in love with one of them? Papa won't like that.

I swish my dress back and forth as I stare into the mirror. It doesn't move very much, but that's the point considering the skirt drops to the floor from the waistline beneath my bosom. I like this better than the fashions some of the older ladies wear, there's too much fabric and restriction in their gowns for my taste.

"Victoria, are you coming?" my twin sister calls from the next room.

I sigh. I can't even enjoy the attention on my own. Just like with everything, I have to share it with Denise.

"Yes," I say, pulling myself away from the mirror and heading towards the door which connects our rooms.

Denise is ethereal in her bright white gown and her light blonde curls styled perfectly. I don't need the mirror to find out how I appear, I can see it when I look at her. Thankfully, Mama doesn't insist on us wearing everything identically. It's bad enough that we look the same, dressing the same would make us the talk of the ton, and not in a good way.

"Are you excited?" she asks.

I smile and nod. "What about you?"

She grimaces. "I'd rather spend my time reading a book by the fire."

"Then going out to parties? I've heard they're rather extravagant."

She snorts in a very unladylike fashion. I hope she doesn't do that around potential suitors.

"I don't need to find a husband that way."

"Then how are you planning on doing it?" I ask, genuine curiosity urging me on.

"Maybe I'll simply have Papa arrange a marriage." She turns to her dressing table and opens up her reticule, slipping a small book into it.

My eyes widen. Is she really going to take reading material to our presentation to the Shifter Queen? I know better than to ask. The answer is yes, and we both know it. I simply wish she'd take this seriously. If she does something wrong, then it'll ruin both of our chances.

"If Papa arranges it, you'll end up with a boring John or Peter," I insist.

"Father Peter is lovely, Victoria. I could do much worse than marrying a pastor."

My mouth falls open, but I snap it shut quickly. I can't let myself do anything so improper when there are other people around.

"We're the daughters of a Baron, we can't marry pastors," I counter.

"There are only so many titled fox shifters, some of us have to marry outside of our station." She snaps the small bag shut, as if hoping it'll end our conversation.

"Yes, and that means marrying up, not down. We want to elevate our family." How can she be so oblivious to this?

Denise sighs. "I don't know about you, but I want to marry for more than just a title, and I plan on doing just that. You're not going to convince an Earl or a Duke to have you, and we all know you'll never accept the Viscount. We all remember the fights the two of you got into as children."

"I can if I can convince everyone I'm accomplished and a worthy wife," I protest, a little upset that she's being so dismissive of me. Does she really think no one will want me?

"You can do what you will, but that doesn't mean you're not wasting your time, and mine, with this silly notion."

Anger rises inside me, and I close my eyes, trying to count to ten and contain myself before I do something stupid like shift and ruin my new dress.

"Then why are you going through with this?" I ask her. "Why not avoid being presented and not even attend the balls, it'll clearly make you happier."

"Mama didn't give me a choice, as you're well aware." Denise folds her arms over her chest and shoots daggers at me. "And now I have to go through all of this despite knowing I won't come away with a husband. But this isn't about me. It's all about you."

"Me?" I squeak.

"Yes. You. The perfect daughter who does everything she's supposed to do and makes me look bad for wanting to do my own thing."

"Denise..." It's hard to keep the hurt out of my voice, even though I want to. I thought the two of us were friends as well as sisters, but it seems as if she has a very different view of our relationship.

"Oh, don't listen to me." She waves away my protests and affects a lighter tone as if she's never said any of it.

That's fine. Two can play at that game, and if she wants to pretend there's no hurt, then that's fine by me. I'll put on a brave face and never mention it again.

"They'll be waiting for us downstairs," I say needlessly.

She nods. "I'm ready if you are."

I narrow my eyes, completely confused by the walking contradiction that is Denise. Maybe now she's gotten her true feelings out in the open, she'll be more pleasant company.

It may be a vain hope, but it's what I'm going to cling to.

The two of us exit her room and make our way towards the grand sweeping staircase which dominates the entrance hall of our family home. Our parents and younger brother wait patiently at the bottom, each of them dressed in their finest. While Philip is only twenty, I'm sure Mama will be considering potential matches for him tonight. It's his job as the future Baron to find a suitable wife and provide the Barony with heirs. It doesn't matter if I, or even Denise, would make a better Baroness, we aren't allowed to inherit. Such is the trial of being a girl.

Considering most of the Shifter Monarchs are Queens, it seems like a huge oversight to disallow female shifters to inherit titles. But I'm never going to convince anyone of that.

"Darlings, you look beautiful," Mama says, coming forward to kiss each of us on the cheek but barely touching either of us. She's normally more affectionate, but I suspect she's being careful not to make a mess of any of our clothing. White is a highly impractical colour for a dress, which is probably why the Queen insists upon it. At least she allows us to be presented in the fashions of the day. I've seen the human girls being presented to their Queen, and their dresses look uncomfortable and impossible to move in with their wide hooped skirts and excessive frills. It's not even like they can wear them outside of the human court without seeming deeply unfashionable.

The modistes and seamstresses must love this time of year.

"Are you ready?" Papa asks, already seeming bored of the whole affair.

"We are," Mama answers for us. "We'll put your headpieces on when we get there. The feathers will be too high for the carriage and we don't want to damage them." She gestures to two tall hat boxes sitting on the entrance hall table.

Papa gestures for one of the servants to pick up the boxes and take them out to the waiting carriage. For a moment, I think Mama is going to try lecturing the poor man about how he should be handling them, but she stays silent.

Nerves flit around my stomach as I follow my parents out of the ornate front door of our London home and into the horse-drawn carriage sitting in front of it.

Today marks my entrance into society, and it's going to change my life forever.