Page 2

Chapter

One

I ’m not a fatalist. Embracing each diurnal to the fullest, as though it were your final one, is a wise life motto when the world appears determined to end you.

If I perpetually walked around, looking over my shoulder for the death that stalked me, I’d trip and snap my neck.

I think positively, stride with a pep in my step, and smile when the bunkum poop hits the castle walls.

However, as I continue to sink farther beneath the water, I have to ask myself, is this really it?

Is this the curse that is about to claim my Burgher life?

After one too many accidental fires, prince druggings, damsel mistakes, and royalty stabbings, is this how I end?

Tricked by an evil lake monster? I’m disappointed with myself and my destiny.

But more importantly, I’m heartbroken that I’ve just found not one, but four males who accept all of me—curses, accidents, calamities, chaos and all—now swept away because I wanted to fix a sword.

Here lies Daphne Stone. She survived the fated Cinderella story only to befall a watery grave where her body will bloat and float.

It’s not a pretty sight. I thought I at least would have made a lovely corpse.

Could there be frogs here I can kiss in the hopes of becoming one of their kind?

It was better to be a froggy lover than a gross dead person.

Minus the frogspawn. I want nothing to do with that.

The world gets darker as I sink lower with the sword clutched in my hand. Gwyneth and the knights’ shouts fade, and my chest aches with the need to breathe. The water is warmer than I would have thought.

I want nothing more than to undo the last few tempos so I can remain with them.

But hindsight is a wonderful thing only gifted to witches, and even then, they only get specifics.

Like Myrtle in Strongfair. That witch could predict with uncanny accuracy the color of socks the duke would be wearing, but anything else was completely unreliable.

I’m leaving behind my people, the ones I have known my whole life, and the ones I have waited for my whole life.

They need to look after my capons, and if they give away my mirror man, I will haunt their every annus from now until the end of time.

Or at least until my afterlife ends. Do they have sausage here?

Ghost sausage, maybe? Does that mean it will be there, taunting me with its meaty goodness, but never actually gracing my tongue with its hot juices?

This is it. My mouth opens and the chilly water rushes inside.

I keep my eyes open, just in case a frog takes pity on me.

I don’t want to miss him because I was a mellow.

Wait. I’m not dying. I can breathe. How is that possible?

My butt hits the bed of the lake, and a current sweeps me away, skimming over sand and rock.

I grimace as I gain a few extra bumps and bruises.

Where am I going? Another breath confirms the first one wasn’t the Idols messing with me.

I will survive this diurnal. I punch my fist in the water.

Well, I try, but it’s more like a slow motion reach that probably looks ridiculous.

Luckily for me, there are only fish to witness it.

Tempos go by, and I relax, my hand still gripping the blade.

I’m not a complete idiot—I tried releasing it—but it’s glued to me like an extra appendage, because that’s what my life needs.

A constant enormous blade attached to me.

I might not drown, but I am certain this sword is an unnecessary risk.

It trails on the lake floor as I try to keep my distance.

How big is this lake? It feels like I’ve been traveling for many turns.

Salty water washes over my tongue, and I fight down rising panic as I realize I’m no longer in a lake—I’ve been swept out to sea.

The darkness recedes, giving way to tiny glittering creatures in the water, creating a pretty shiny path.

I lift my hand, and my fingers skim through them, sending them swirling through the ocean.

Up ahead, a structure rises. Oh my Idols, why is it growing?

Was Jack here with his magic beans, planting them inside the wet channel? He should know better.

As I draw nearer, I realize it’s not a beanstalk rising before me, but a magnificent abode infused with enchantment, expanding like a dream as I approach.

This splendid residence boasts several pink and gold spires, reaching toward the heavens like pillars of sunlight, stretching into the embrace of the water’s vastness.

Vibrant starfish and glistening seashells, each a treasure plucked from the depths of the sea, adorn the gleaming turquoise walls.

The windows, dressed in soft pink shutters lined with regal gold trim, seem to whisper secrets of a magical life within.

A kaleidoscope of coral, swaying gently in the ocean’s breath, surrounds this fantastical palace.

The current drops my ass at the foot of the crooked staircase leading to the arched door.

I struggle to my feet. The sword anchors me to the floor, and a current pushes against me, keeping me upright.

Well, that’s handy. I smile at the enormous blade.

“See, we can work together without you stabbing me.”

It takes a tempo for me to realize I’m talking underwater.

What a skill. Have I always been able to do this?

It’s not like I thought about sinking to the bottom of the pond at Strongfair and testing this out, because again, frogspawn.

I know it’s not natural to be this terrified of the jellylike substance, but I dare anyone to experience it near your floof and not have issues.

The sword says nothing in return. “Well, you are going to be scintillating company,” I grumble. “I have needs. The least you can do is offer some kind of guidance.”

Zilch. Not a glimmer or a flash of life to reassure me I’m not on my own.

I’ll go mad in ten tempos if the company I keep is only myself.

I don’t make smart decisions, so unless this sword is about to get super opinionated, I need to make a plan to meet some water dwellers.

Even lake dwellers need companionship, and I need more than most. If I blend in with the crowd, then the Idols can stop my annus peacefully.

Exposed and alone, I fear they might focus their attention on ending my chaotic life earlier to avoid me doing anything to upset the narrative.

Well, upset the narrative more than I already have.

It’s not my fault everyone isn’t Daphne proof.

They should put that on the curriculum for The Hallowed.

How to defeat dragons, kiss a prince, and survive Daphne Stone.

My heart sinks a little as I think of Theo, my mysterious dragon who bucks the trend by rescuing damsels, not eating them. That’s marvelous, as I doubt I could be with a man who enjoys his meat raw and bloody. Nope, I’m a strict sausage kind of maiden.

The arched door flies open, and a short merman floats out. He’s about half my size, including his black and gold tail. A navy waistcoat covers his torso, and a watch dangles from the tiny pocket. His dark eyebrows inch up as he sweeps his glacial gaze over me.

“She did it. The stupid, stupid girl managed it,” he said, his voice high-pitched and snappy.

“Hey! Who are you are calling stupid?”

It’s not like they know me down in these parts.

I might be anyone. I could literally remake myself and no-one would be the wiser.

I could be Daphne Stone, ruler of the ocean, totally coordinated, courageous, and clued up.

A school of bright orange fish darts between my legs, and I suck in a breath as they get trapped in the ridiculous long white gown billowing around me.

My grip loosens on the sword, and it finally lets me go, because I’m fooling no one by saying I’m cradling the sword. It is most definitely carrying me.

I grab the hem of my dress and try pulling the material taut. The cheery fish swim out, and then straight up my skirts. Oh, no. Fishy floof. That isn’t happening. There are places fish may go, and that is not one of them. It’s worse than frogspawn.

“Triton alive, what are you doing?” the merman says.

One fish latches onto my inner thigh and sucks.

I giggle. Okay, tickle fish I can live with.

I try gently swiping the family out, but the smallest one goes the wrong way and gets tangled in my skirts, which twist and tighten until my legs wobble and I lose my footing.

Lucky for me, the fall onto my ass is more of a slow bump.

Maybe being under the water is a blessing?

Perhaps I’m the long-lost daughter of some sea king and that’s why gravity makes me its bitch. I glare at the sword.

“Dude, I thought you had my back.”

Is the sword laughing? Can they do that? It seems amused at my expense.

“I thought you land dwellers were coordinated,” the merman drawls.

“Who said that? If it was Charming, he’s a compulsive liar that relies on a spelled shoe to get his rocks off. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him. I might look strong, but I’m not confident I could even lift an adult man-child with a foot fetish.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, and I fight with my dress to release the school of fish. “You are my punishment.”

“Rude. I am not your anything.”

He snorts, blowing tiny bubbles into the water. So cool. But also bad news for the gassy folks. No silent sneaky smells of death here. Everyone understood you were the culprit. I’d need to remember that.

I take a hot tempo, but I’m soon floof fish free and upright. It is a good diurnal if we discount the whole being lured by an evil lake lady and almost drowning.