CHAPTER 1 Daphne
Daphne
B
athing in a river was not as simple as Daphne had assumed.
Steadying herself against the mild current, she squinted through the water streaming down her face. “Gryph? What are you doing over here? You’re supposed to be on guard duty.”
Her dog didn’t answer. Between the water in her eyes and the auburn hair plastered over her face, he was nothing more than a dark blur on the riverbank as he moved closer.
“Did Raoul send you to fetch me for supper?” Her foot slipped in the mud as she walked toward him. Throwing her arms out, she caught herself on the chest-high bank and hoisted herself up without clearing her vision.
She wasn’t ready to return to camp yet, but staying to swim wasn’t an option: while the river was shallow and gentle in her bathing spot, the bank pushed back into deeper, swifter water only a few yards downstream.
Besides, if she didn’t follow Gryphon, Raoul might track her down himself. And her best friend did not need to see her in her undergarments.
Angling toward her dry clothes, Daphne huffed in frustration. Was a little time to herself so much to ask? “You can tell him I’m coming, Gryph. Honestly, as late as that man is for everything, you would think he could let me—”
“If Raoul was waiting, I wouldn’t be here,” a feminine voice interrupted.
Daphne froze, then wiped her hair aside and slowly turned.
Instead of her faithful dog, one of the kitchen maids stood before her. Not concerning by itself.
But the maid held one of her long daggers. Pointed at Daphne.
“Oh, and I’m afraid your precious Gryphon won’t be coming,” Nathalie added. She pushed her lips forward in a pout. “He’s rather occupied with a slab of meat at the moment.”
“I don’t believe you,” Daphne said uneasily. “Gryph wouldn’t abandon me for food.”
Her eyes darted around the trees lining the bank, but there was no sign of her furry friend. Nor of the guards she’d left back at camp.
“Are you sure?” Nathalie flipped her platinum braid. “You must not know him as well as you think. We’ve become good friends in the last three weeks, Gryphon and I. He’s quite appreciative of my treats.”
A shot of panic edged its way into Daphne’s chest. She hadn’t brought guards to the river because she and Gryphon were more than a match for most dangers.
But that assumed Gryphon was at her side. And that Daphne had her daggers.
“What’s the matter, Princess?” the maid mocked. “Not so brave without your guard dog, are you?”
Eyeing the blade, she wondered if she dared grab it. But regardless of Nathalie’s skill level, Daphne would struggle to reclaim it before the maid thrust it home.
After all, Daphne was unarmed. And the dagger was already a few short feet from her stomach.
“Why are you doing this, Nathalie?” Forcing her voice to remain steady, she faced the maid with her chin held high. “What do you have to gain?”
“What do I have to gain? Plenty.” Nathalie grinned and held up her left hand, a square of blue silk dangling from her fingers. Daphne stiffened. “Wouldn’t you agree, Princess?”
The handkerchief in Nathalie’s fingers twitched in a light breeze. And just when Daphne had thought this day couldn’t get any worse.
“That’s mine,” she said firmly. But it was a mask to hide her pounding heart. Bringing the handkerchief on this trip was supposed to protect it, not make it easier to steal.
“Is it?” The maid laughed as she stuffed it into a pocket of her dress. No, Daphne’s dress. “Nice try, but I’m not giving this up so easily.” She smiled in smug satisfaction as she sauntered forward. “I worked too hard to get it.”
Daphne’s dress and the handkerchief… Daphne’s breathing sped up. This wasn’t possible. Was it?
“Seems easier to buy one in the market,” she bluffed. If Nathalie had gone to this much effort, she must know what she held. But Daphne had to try. “Rather than stealing from the royal family and threatening a princess. We’re in the middle of nowhere; you can’t escape.”
“Threatening?” Nathalie laughed and continued advancing. “Oh, I’m not threatening.”
Daphne’s eyes darted down to the dagger as she backed up. “You’re not?” She lifted a disbelieving eyebrow to cover her fear.
“Of course not.” The maid’s voice turned sweet. Reaching into her pocket again, she pulled out an old spool of thread. “I fully intend to carry through.”
With thread?
“It’s fortunate you remember my name,” Nathalie continued breezily. But one side of her lip curled. “That way, you’ll know when someone is calling you.”
“When someone is—What are you talking about?”
“And if anyone needs to escape, Princess, it will be you.” Holding the spool toward Daphne, the traitorous maid declared, “I curse you, Daphne Fleur Bouclier, to wear my natural appearance.”
Daphne’s eyes widened. “What are you—”
“Under this curse, you will be unable to tell anyone the truth of your identity or of mine.” Nathalie’s eyes gleamed as she strode forward, the dagger still leveled at Daphne’s stomach.
Eyes glued to the blade, Daphne wracked her brain for options as she stumbled backward. Taking her chances with the dagger was sounding better by the second.
Unless this was a twisted joke. Because how could the maid have an enchanted object that could cast this kind of curse?
Nathalie’s grin turned malicious, sending a shudder down Daphne's spine. “No, let’s make things more interesting. You won’t be able to speak at all. Or write, so you can’t hand out clues that way, either.”
Gulping, Daphne wrapped a protective arm around her waist. If it was a joke, the maid was certainly dedicated to selling it.
“Oh, and since curses that affect your physical shape must have a means to break them: you will walk with my appearance, unable to speak or write or otherwise communicate either of our identities, until you are able to tell someone who you really are.” Nathalie laughed as she stuffed the spool in her pocket. “Have fun with that.”
Scream. That was a viable option. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?
As she opened her mouth, Daphne felt the hair on her arms stand up before the pain of shifting bones overcame her. She tried to cry for help as her head dropped to the level of Nathalie’s.
But no matter how she forced the air through her throat, no sound escaped.
“Perfect.” Brandishing the silk handkerchief, Nathalie triumphantly said, “I wish to assume the natural appearance of Princess Daphne Fleur Bouclier!”
Daphne’s last frail hope died in her chest. She lunged forward to grab the handkerchief from the maid’s hand, but Nathalie turned the dagger to the side and shoved her back. “So sorry, Princess,” she gasped as the transformation overtook her. “I guess you won’t need to know my name, after all.”
Faintly, Daphne registered that Nathalie had forced her downstream. Then she was toppling over, pinwheeling uselessly as she plummeted toward the rushing river.
She saw her own face sneering down at her, and then the water claimed her.