Chapter Two

Anastasia’s mind went blank.

No one, absolutely no one, had ever cast a spell on her. It was forbidden, effectively treason, to cast spells on the Royal Family, no matter the motive. Her protections … her mind reeled as it dawned on her that her protections had been completely ineffective, that Patsy had cast a spell right through them as if they didn’t exist at all. She was helpless, utterly unable to move … what the hell was going to happen to her? Kidnap? Death? Who would risk doing either, in the heart of the kingdom? Who stood to benefit?

Patsy strode forward until their faces were almost touching, her features seeming to sharpen into something else. It wasn’t Patsy … no, it was, but it was also someone else. The woman hadn’t changed at all, yet she somehow drew Anastasia’s attention in a manner Patsy had never done before. The maid had remained in the shadows for the last two years, little more than an extension of Anastasia’s will … it struck Anastasia, suddenly, that she might have made a dreadful mistake. If she’d paid more attention to Patsy, perhaps she would have noticed something was wrong. But it was too late.

“We are a very long way from civilisation,” Patsy said. The voice was the same, but there was a confidence and self-assurance in the tone that made her impossible to overlook. Sparks danced around her fingertips, a grim reminder that she had magic and knew how to use it. “If you scream, Your Highness, I assure you no one will hear.”

Anastasia struggled against her invisible bonds, trying to break free. She knew a handful of counterspells – the Court Wizard had drilled some tricks into her head – but they all refused to work. The spell was too strong, or she lacked the focus to cast without moving her hands. Patsy was right, she realised as horror ran though her mind. She’d ridden far from the castle, leading Patsy where Patsy wanted to go. There might be a poacher somewhere near, someone who had no legitimate reason to be in the forest, but …it was unlikely a poacher would come to her aid, not when it could easily get their hands cut off for poaching. And who would want to pick a fight with a sorceress?

“Two years, two years spent shadowing you,” Patsy said. “And you never even noticed!”

Anastasia wanted to scream. Two years! She’d hoped, vaguely, that Patsy had been knocked out, tied up and left in a closet somewhere, but two years …? If that was true, she had never known the real Patsy, if indeed such a person even existed. Ice ran down her spine as she realised that she was completely alone, at the mercy of a sorceress who could cut through her protections as effortlessly as Anastasia could drive a knife through softened butter. Her mind spun, frantically trying to recall everything she’d done to Patsy. She knew she hadn’t been as bad as some young ladies, when it came to treating their maids poorly, but Patsy might not see it that way. If she wanted revenge …

“I’m going to weaken the spell, so we can talk,” Patsy told her. “If you try to escape, or attack me, I’ll turn you into a frog. Understand?”

Anastasia couldn’t move a muscle. There was no way she could answer. Patsy’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, so alien on her bland face and yet somehow so fitting, as she made a movement with her hand. Anastasia dropped to the ground, her body spasming in pain. It was hard, so hard, not to cry out. She hadn’t cramped so badly since the first day she’d spent on horseback. It was hard …

She forced herself to stand, trying to think. Patsy was surrounded with a faint haze of magic … Anastasia knew, somehow, that her threat was no idle boast. The magic felt cold and hard and yet hostile, utterly threatening … she dared not risk touching it. She looked past Patsy, at the horses, and cursed under her breath as she realised both Champion and Lady were frozen too, completely unmoving. There was no way she could get out of Patsy’s line of sight before it was too late … if indeed Patsy needed line of sight to curse her. The spell might follow her as she weaved her way through the trees … she swallowed, hard. Her father had taught her a little about how to handle herself, if she was kidnapped, but he’d always assured her that the Royal Guard would have no trouble tracking her down. Anastasia had the nasty feeling he hadn’t been telling the truth. If a sorceress had somehow managed to pose as her maid for two years, she would have no trouble hiding her victim from the guardsmen. Or the Court Wizard.

“Patsy,” she managed. “Why …?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Patsy’s tone dripped disdain, chilling Anastasia to the bone. It was proof Patsy really wasn’t the person Anastasia had thought she was. “I’m going to take your place.”

Anastasia blinked. “My place?”

“You’re quite frustrating, you know?” Patsy giggled, her eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re clever, but you refuse to develop your mind. You have magic, yet you refuse to fan the spark of power into a flame. You are of royal blood, the unquestioned heir to the kingdom, but you refuse to learn how to handle the role before it falls on you. Your father is extremely worried about what will happen to the kingdom, when he dies and you take the throne.”

“No, he isn’t,” Anastasia protested. “I …”

“You are lazy,” Patsy said, flatly. There was something in her tone that suggested she found laziness worse than nearly anything else. “You have made no attempt to listen to your father, to understand him or the problems he faces, or even …”

She shrugged. “What was it you said? Parliament will have its say?”

Anastasia flushed. “What of it?”

“You would put power in the hands of Parliament,” Patsy said, dryly. “And once you let go, you’ll find it very hard to claw the power back.”

“But …” Anastasia swallowed, hard. “I thought …”

“You didn’t think,” Patsy said. “I happen to know your father has been looking for a suitable husband for you, one with the strength to take and hold and wield power in your name. He’s been frustrated so far, because few princes can be trusted not to abuse such power once they take hold of it. I think he’ll find me a much more congenial daughter.”

Anastasia stared at her. “You can’t take my place!”

Patsy smirked. “Why not?”

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Anastasia gritted her teeth. “You’re not me!”

“Really?” Patsy’s smirk grew wider. “Believe me, no one will notice.”

“You can’t,” Anastasia said. “My parents …”

Patsy snapped her fingers. Her face shimmered, then morphed into a duplicate of the face Anastasia saw in the mirror every morning. The smirk was wrong, as if it didn’t quite match the face, but otherwise … she swallowed, hard. She had few friends, certainly few who visited regularly, few who shared secrets with her … horror ran through her, again, as it dawned on her that Patsy had been with her for nearly every waking moment, over the last two years. She had seen Anastasia at her regal best, she’d seen Anastasia throwing a tantrum after her mother had denied her something … Anastasia couldn’t remember what, now. She’d been there for nearly every lesson Anastasia had taken, from her father’s tedious lectures on the history of the royal family and their kingdom to the handful of practical lessons in magic … she knew how to read and write, how to comport herself like a princess, how to do everything Anastasia could do. And more.

“You won’t get away with this,” Anastasia said, feeling her blood turn to ice. “You won’t.”

Panic yammered at the back of her mind. A princess could be kidnapped, but most kidnappers needed to keep their hostage alive. They wanted to force concessions from the families, or to extract ransoms, or even … the idea of kidnapping a princess to marry her had gone out of fashion years ago, yet it was still a very real threat. Few royal families wanted to admit their princess had been kidnapped, forced into marriage and raped … reading between the lines, Anastasia wondered just how many marriages in history were nothing more than facades covering a gruesome and horrific reality. If some wandering prince kidnapped her …

She swallowed, hard. He’d need to keep her alive. Patsy didn’t. Worse, perhaps. She had a good reason to want Anastasia dead, just to make sure no one ever realised their princess had been replaced. She could kill Anastasia now, then ride back home and take her place. Hardly anyone noticed Patsy, not even the guards. A little misdirection could hide Patsy’s absence long enough to concoct a suitable cover story, perhaps the maid going home to marry or being dismissed for being overly familiar or something, anything, that wouldn’t draw attention. Patsy was smart. She would already have a plan to explain her absence.

“I …” Anastasia swallowed hard, resolving to keep Patsy talking. “Why? Why me?”

A flash of hatred crossed her doppelganger’s face. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

She went on before Anastasia could come up with an answer. “You were born in a castle, I was born in the slums. You had a loving and caring family, my father’s a mystery and my mother a whore. You slept in a warm bed, I shivered in the cold. You had lessons in everything that took your fancy, I had to scrimp and save and pay unimaginable prices for even the smallest lessons in magic. Do you know the price I had to pay my tutor for his lessons? Do you know …”

Patsy calmed herself with a visible effort. “If you were in my shoes, Princess, you’d want to change places too.”

Anastasia gritted her teeth. “There are no slums in the kingdom …”

“Hah.” Patsy laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. “Shows how much you know.”

“I’m not stupid,” Anastasia protested. “I …”

“No,” Pasty agreed. “You’re not stupid. You are lazy, and indolent, and unwilling to learn the lessons in relative safety, lessons you need to master before you inherit the throne and you find yourself learning them the hard way. You are born to wealth and power and yet you are utterly incapable of tending to it, doing the hard work of maintaining your family’s power base in an ever changing world and then passing it down to your children. You didn’t even bother to learn the magic you need to defend yourself, in a world that can be very cruel to women who try to rule in their own name …”

“Queen Alassa rules alone,” Anastasia pointed out.

“She has a husband who is a great warrior and greater sorcerer, and a best friend who is greater still,” Patsy countered. “What do you have? Name a single person who truly calls you a friend?”

Anastasia had no answer. She was the Crown Princess, the Heir to the Throne. No one could forget that, from the highest to the lowest. She’d had too many aristocratic women, daughters of the great and the good, trying to befriend her for the sake of their families; the young men, irritatingly, spent most of their time trying to impress her, or to ask for her favour. None cared for Anastasia herself, none could be trusted to keep her secrets when their families started to pressure them to talk. It was galling to realise that Patsy was the closest thing to a genuine friend she had, and Patsy had been studying her coldly, preparing to take her place. Patsy was right. She had no one.

“I’ll be a much better princess than you,” Patsy said. “Do you doubt it?”

“You’re not me,” Anastasia managed. “And they’ll ask questions.”

Patsy smirked. “It has all been arranged,” she said. “Princess Anastasia and her servant, riding home after a long laze around the lake, will be attacked by bandits. The servant will sacrifice herself to give Princess Anastasia a chance to escape, which she will. By the time the Royal Guard arrives, the bandits and the servant will be long gone. The Princess, shocked out of her complacency, will start taking her role seriously, learning the ropes and making the connections she needs to rule effectively, once her father takes early retirement. Any changes in personality will be easily explained by the near-disaster, and Anastasia’s new willingness to be the daughter her parents want will discourage any further questions. I will take your place, Your Highness, and I will be a better you than you ever were.”

Anastasia stared. “My father …”

“I won’t kill him,” Patsy said. “But I will edge him aside, when the time comes.”

“He’s a good king,” Anastasia protested. “I …”

“He failed to knock some sense into his daughter,” Patsy said. “But he doesn’t have to worry about that now, does he?”

Anastasia felt her legs wobble. Patsy really had thought of everything, from an explanation for her own absence to a reason for the princess’s sudden interest in doing her job. And her father … Anastasia loved her father, despite his flaws. The idea of him being displaced by a cuckoo in his nest … she tensed, bracing herself to spring, only to catch Patsy watching her with an amused eye. Some magicians could read thoughts, she’d been told. Was Patsy reading hers now? Or was she so familiar with Anastasia that she didn’t need to read her mind to know what she was thinking? Patsy had seen her in her most unguarded moments, watching her when she was alone and no longer needed to be the princess, rather than a person in her own right. She knew Anastasia too well …

She sagged. “What now?”

Patsy met her eyes. “I have an offer for you,” she said. She pointed a finger at the amulet around Anastasia’s neck. “I want you to give it to me, willingly.”

Anastasia gritted her teeth. “Why? The amulet is useless.”

“Is it?” Patsy shrugged. “No matter. I want you to give it to me.”

“And if I refuse?”

Patsy’s expression hardened. “You have two choices. If you give it to me willingly, I will send you into exile a very long way from home. You are far from stupid and you have, despite your best efforts, some skills you can use to make a life for yourself. Who knows? You might find yourself genuinely happy, rather than trapped in a role you don’t really want. And I won’t kill your parents.”

She paused, dramatically. “If you refuse to surrender the amulet, I will take it from you and turn you into a frog, then bind the spell to make it impossible for anyone but me to ever restore your human form. You’ll spend the rest of your life in a lake a few thousand miles from here, so far away you’ll never get back … and even if you do, you’ll never be returned to humanity. If you’re lucky, your mind will fade away and you’ll forget you were ever anything other than a frog. If not … you’ll be trapped in an inhuman form, all too aware of what happened to you. And you will have to live with the knowledge that your parents will die the moment they outlive their usefulness.”

Anastasia felt sick. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

Patsy shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“You …”

Patsy shrugged, again. “You’re not a bad person. You remind me of myself, just a little. I can give you the chance to rise from nothing, like I did, and it costs me nothing to do so. And if you give me the amulet, you’ll have a chance. Or …”

Anastasia stared at her double. The cold ruthless expression was utterly alien to her. The idea they were very much alike seemed absurd, utterly impossible. They weren’t the same. They just weren’t.

“Choose,” Patsy said. “What’s it to be?”

“Who are you?” Anastasia fought for time, knowing it was futile. “Who …?”

“You may call me Circe,” Patsy said. “I’m afraid Patsy never truly existed. It was me all along.”

Anastasia stared at her, her mind churning. She couldn’t give up the amulet, could she? She recalled something about the dangers of handing it over willingly, but … she couldn’t remember the details. She wished, suddenly, that she’d paid more attention to the lectures. If she’d developed her own magic …

She swallowed, hard. She wanted to say no, to dare Patsy – Circe – to do her worst, but … the idea of spending the rest of her life as a dumb animal was terrifying. Circe would do it too, she was sure. And then she’d go on to take Anastasia’s place and kill her parents. She’d thought of everything.

“I have no more time,” Circe said. She held up a hand, an eerie greenish light dancing over her fingertips. Anastasia couldn’t keep from flinching. The light pulsed against her mind, making it harder to think clearly. “What’s it to be?”

Anastasia straightened, then lifted the amulet over her head and held it out to Circe. It was a surrender and she knew it, a concession she had no choice but to make … a sign of submission she hated herself for making. “I’ll get back here and …”

Circe took the amulet and snapped her fingers. Anastasia froze, again.

“Spare me the melodrama,” she said. The contempt in her voice cut to the quick. “Whatever happens, you and I will never see each other again.”

Her lips twisted. “And I trust you’ll forgive me if I don’t wish you good luck.”

She snapped her fingers a second time. Anastasia’s world went black.