Cinderella’s dismay at being stopped on her first escape attempt was soon replaced by a feeling of delight when she caught the sights and sounds and smells of the village. A few feet away, a man dressed in bright orange juggled, tossing fireballs into the air in high, arching loops without getting burned. Cinderella’s eyes opened wider and she itched to go closer. He had to be using magic, but what kind? And how had he learned it? A few fireballs might come in handy for her escape. Even if today wasn’t escape day, she was still determined to do it one day.
The sweet, cinnamon-tinged scent of freshly baked goods wafted toward her, and she spun around to spot a bakery filled with the most beautiful creations she’d ever imagined. About eight feet away, her stepmother was looking into the window of a hat shop, so Cinderella took the opportunity to dash over to the bakery window for a closer look at the piles of pink-topped cupcakes, bright orange cookies, and cakes with layers so high she couldn’t imagine how they didn’t topple. Her mouth watered, but she felt a tug on her body and realized her stepmother had moved too far away.
She turned to find her stepmother had crossed the street, and was backing away purposefully, one side of her mouth quirked up in an evil sneer. A horse and carriage hurtled down the roadway from the left, and Cinderella ran across the street to get closer to her stepmother and avoid getting pulled into the horse’s path.
“That’s a girl,” her stepmother said. “Stay close to me and you won’t get hurt.” She tipped her head back and laughed.
Cinderella gritted her teeth, but fought off the terrible feelings in her heart. She wouldn’t let her stepmother spoil her temporary release from her prison.
Besides, at this point the possibility—however slim—of her attending the ball still existed. Certainly her stepmother wouldn’t dare cast a spell on ball night. Her entrapment spells relied on black magic, which was illegal. The most important people in society and all the great wizards would be there, and she doubted her stepmother would risk her black magic being detected. If Cinderella got there, the ball might prove her perfect chance for escape. She’d just have to stay on her stepmother’s good side until then.
“Open the door, lazy girl.” Her stepmother gestured toward the closed door of the fabric shop. Cinderella pulled it open and followed the woman inside.
As soon as she stepped through the door, Cinderella gasped in awe. Each wall of the store was covered in shelving that reached from floor to ceiling and supported hundreds of bolts of the most beautiful fabrics she’d ever seen.
Until now, her fabric options for her stepsisters’ gowns had been constrained by what they’d brought home, and she’d had no idea the magnitude of that limitation. With her eyes open wide, she started around the room, unable to take her eyes of the array of peacock blues, deep ambers, rich reds—every color she’d ever imagined and more—in the shiniest satins, the finest silks, the softest chiffons.
She’d never seen anything so beautiful. How would she ever choose for her stepsisters, never mind for herself?
Just then, she slammed into what she assumed was the edge of her stepmother’s range, and not taking her eyes from the fabrics, she backed up a few steps, and then reached out to tentatively touch a deep bronze organza that would bring out the highlights in Agatha’s hair.
“Hello?” The voice was male and teasing and familiar, so she drew her eyes from the shelves.
Him. The royal messenger. But he was not dressed as she had seen him earlier; his clothes were dirty and torn. She raised her hand to her lips. “Oh,” she said. “Excuse me. Did I plow right into you?”
“A most pleasant collision,” he replied. He smiled and his bright blue eyes sparkled, setting off a little buzz inside her.
“Where is your uniform?” she asked, and then hoped her question wasn’t rude. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t expect to see a royal messenger . . .” Oh, how was she going to explain herself without offending him?
He looked at her from under the rim of his cap. “Surprised I’m dressed in rags?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper. He ran his hand over the tattered and coarsely woven fabric of his shirt, laced over his broad chest with a well-worn strip of leather.
She shrugged, tipping her head toward her shoulder and smiling. “I’m sorry. Hey, I’m in rags, too.” She held up the ragged ends of her gray apron. “But I do love looking at these splendid fabrics.”
“Even the most beautiful attire would pale next to you.” He tipped his head and smiled, so charming and generous.
She fought the urge to object. Her sisters were beautiful, not her, but she could return his polite compliment without reservation. “Thank you, and you’re very handsome.” Unbelievably handsome, in fact, even dressed as a beggar. Under the rimmed cap, his blond curls hung about his face and shaded his eyes in the most devilish manner.
“Thank you.” He bowed slightly. “Most people can’t look past the way someone’s dressed to see who’s inside.” He rested one of his hands on the counter beside them. Cinderella couldn’t help but notice his strong-looking fingers. “I’m not really this poor, but I like going about the kingdom dressed as a beggar,” he added. “I’ve run into several people today who know me as the—as the messenger—and you’re the only one who’s seen through my disguise.”
“That’s shocking.” Cinderella had recognized him the instant she’d seen his bright blue eyes, his curly blond hair, his kind smile.
“I’m Ty, by the way.”
She smiled and felt her cheeks burn. “Cinderella.”
“That’s an unusual name.”
“It’s a nickname, but it’s all I’ve heard for so many years, I’m not even sure I remember the name I was born with.”
“Nice to meet you, Cinderella.” He edged a bit closer.
“And you.” She stepped an inch back.
“So.” He ran his hand along the wooden surface of the counter toward her. “Have you decided?”
To distract herself from his hand, she glanced up at the shelves, and soon spotted a bolt of silvery-blue velvet that might suit Gwendolyn nicely. “Decided what?”
“The ball, of course. Will I see you there?”
She turned to him and cocked her head to the side. “You’re going to the ball?”
His head snapped back ever so slightly.“I, well . . .” He looked up and to the side. “No choice. I’ve got to be at the ball, um, working.”
“There are messages to deliver at the ball?”
He looked up and away in amusement. “I’m involved in many areas at the palace.”
“Oh.” She smiled, warmth spreading inside her. At least she’d find one friendly face in the room. “I’m hoping to go. Perhaps, if you get a break, you might have time to teach me to dance?” She looked down, embarrassed that she’d just asked this young man, Ty, to dance. Working at the palace, he was surely highly skilled at all the court dances, whereas she’d only seen her stepsisters practicing. Why would he want to dance with her?
“I would be honored to share a dance with you,” he said. “But won’t you be more focused on landing a dance with the prince?” His eyes twinkled mischievously.
“Oh, no,” Cinderella said, laughing. She pulled a bolt of silk with golden threads woven through it off the shelf, and he helped her set it on the counter. “The prince won’t be interested in dancing with me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” His eyes flashed again, and it was almost as if he knew something she didn’t.
Looking into his eyes, Cinderella felt uncomfortable and happy at the same time. “Even if the prince asked me to dance, which he won’t, I’m not sure I’d want to.”
Ty drew back, startled. “Why not?”
“I didn’t mean to offend your employer.” She bit her lip and moved her hand closer to his on the counter. “And I certainly didn’t want to offend you. It’s just that I can’t see getting all excited about a dance with someone I don’t know, just because he’s rich and famous. And the idea that he’s going to pick any girl he wants, ask her to marry him, and she’s expected to say yes?” She shook her head and leaned back on the counter. “What if the girl he picks doesn’t want to get married? What if she doesn’t like him? What if she loves someone else? What if she has other plans for her life?”
“Exactly!” Ty laughed and turned to lean against the counter beside her. His arm lightly brushed hers. “I wish there were more girls like you in my kingdom.”
“The kingdom is yours?” Cinderella grinned.
Bright spots of red bloomed on his cheeks.“I meant, um, the kingdom belongs to all of us, doesn’t it?”
She gave him a sly smile to show that she found his remarks endearing, and then turned to look at the fabrics again, spotting a silk interwoven with threads of silver and mauve that changed colors as it caught the light from different angles.
He helped her take down the bolt.“And I understand what you mean about being expected to marry, whether you want to or not, whether or not you’re in love.” He leaned his lips closer to her ear. “But I’m starting to believe things might work out for me in the love department.”
Cinderella felt a flush rise from deep inside her—and it wasn’t unpleasant at all. After she escaped, maybe she’d have a chance to get to know Ty better, but for now, it was best to concentrate on getting to the ball so she could escape.
She turned to search the shop, now bustling with shoppers, to find her stepsisters. If either of them grew angry, it might ruin everything.
She located Agatha tugging at a bolt of cloth, a hideous lemon yellow with bright orange polka dots, from the bottom of a huge stack of fabrics at the back of the store. From the look of the garish colors, it was a tidy stack of bolts no one else wanted to examine, never mind buy. The stack wobbled as Agatha pulled, and Cinderella looked up to the top of the tall pile, where a wooden box of foot-long spindles teetered close to the edge of its perch. If Agatha pulled much harder . . .
Cinderella didn’t have time to think. Too many eager girls with their mothers and seamstresses stood between her and Agatha, so Cinderella leaped up onto the counter and then sprang up to grab a wooden beam that ran through the center of the room.
Building up momentum, she arched and swung over the shoppers, let go, and landed on one foot on the edge of a shelf midway up the wall on the opposite side of the store. She pushed off from there, somersaulted over the heads of six shoppers, and landed next to Agatha. “Watch out!” she cried, and pulled Agatha to the side. The box crashed to the floor where her stepsister had been standing. It smashed and the empty wooden spools rolled over the floor in every direction.
One of the shopkeepers ran over and bent to gather the spools. Agatha’s face went white and she backed away from Cinderella and looked around the room, as if searching for her mother. Agatha dashed across the room to her mother’s side. Apparently, Cinderella wasn’t the only one eager to stay in the woman’s good graces.
She glanced back through the crowd to spot Ty, who had a huge grin on his face. One of the mothers shoved him, but instead of getting angry, he nodded to the rude woman and stepped aside.
Cinderella suppressed a giggle. If that woman knew Ty worked at the palace, she might not have been so rude. Cinderella loved sharing this little secret with Ty.
He wove his way through the crowd to stand next to her, and even though they weren’t touching, she felt his warmth spread through her body. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d cast a magic spell upon her to make her feel safe and happy and warm yet excited.
He smiled again as he bent toward her, his shaggy curls falling across his face. “Even if you don’t go to the ball—which you should—you should definitely enter the magic competition.”
“Magic competition?”
“It’s part of the festival held the day of the ball.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.” Cinderella poked a finger through a new tear on her skirt she’d have to mend tonight. “I have very little aptitude for magic.”
“Speed, strength, agility, not to mention concentration, are major signs of magic aptitude.” Ty leaned against the counter. “Almost anyone can learn to cast a few small spells with a wand, but the big stuff, the really powerful magic, takes so much more. It has to come from inside you.” He put his hand on his chest. “It’s aptitude they look for during the competition, and from what I just saw, you’d have a great chance of winning.” The clear admiration in his eyes filled her heart with the most glorious joy.
“But I’ve never even seen a magic competition.” Still, a wave of excitement surged inside her at the thought of entering.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “The royal wizard devises a new set of tests every year.”
“The royal wizard will be there?” Her heart raced. She’d only heard her stepsisters whisper about the great wizard’s powers.
“Of course,” Ty said. “Each year, he grants the winner a year’s worth of lessons.” He reached forward and his fingers brushed her wrist, his touch like sparks from a fire.“And if the winner is a girl, she’s guaranteed at least one dance with the prince.”
“What a fabulous prize.” She could imagine winning those lessons.
Ty’s smile brightened the room and her insides.“So now you want to dance with the prince?” he asked.
“No, silly. You’re the only boy I want to dance with.” Feeling bold, she lightly slapped his arm just above the elbow. Surprised at the hard muscles she felt on Ty’s arm, she pulled her hand back. “I’m excited about the lessons with the royal wizard. If I had training with him, no way could my stepmother—” She stopped herself just in time.
If she mentioned one word about the entrapment spells or her stepmother’s illegal use of black magic, both she and the person she told would instantly turn into stone.
“Oh,” Ty said. His expression dropped for an instant, but then warmed again. “I am glad you want to compete. Make sure you come with a clear head, and just be yourself.”
He pressed his hand to his chest, and smiled at her with genuine sincerity in his eyes. Cinderella felt as if she were floating, as if she were flying, as if no one else were in the room.
How could this day get better? Her new friend Ty liked magic, seemed to like her, and apparently had some insider knowledge of the competition. “Have you entered before?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, as a royal servant I’m not eligible, but I watch every year. It’s highly competitive, but I have a strong feeling you’ll do well. I’ll certainly be cheering for you to win.” He stepped back and bowed, flipping his right hand a few times in an incredibly formal manner that almost made Cinderella want to giggle. Even dressed in rags, the regal gesture seemed to fit her new friend—her only friend unless you counted a cat.
Her heart swelled. She’d found a friend—a handsome and charming young man, to boot. Maybe one day after she escaped . . . No, she would not let herself dream of that kind of happiness. The kind that involved true love and happily-ever-afters. Those kinds of dreams were for silly girls like her stepsisters. Once she’d escaped, she’d find her way in the world in a job serving others, but serving them freely, as Ty did in his job at the palace. With her experience, she would certainly be able to find a position as a maid, maybe even in a household where they would feed her something better than table scraps and let her outside during daylight hours.
“Cinderella!”
She jumped and cringed at the sound of her stepmother’s voice booming in her ears.
“There you are, you spoiled, selfish girl.” Her stepmother grabbed Cinderella by her ear and pulled her forward. “This is how you pay me back for my generosity? Have you forgotten why you’re here? Have you forgotten your sisters need help?”
Humiliation and anger rose in Cinderella’s chest, but she squashed it down with every ounce of self-control and determination inside her. No way would she do anything to give her stepmother an excuse to withdraw her permission for the ball.
“Get away from her, you rotten beggar boy.” Her stepmother shoved Ty with the end of her walking stick. “Can’t you see this girl has nothing to give you?”
He tipped his head down in deference. “So sorry, ma’am.”
Clearly her stepmother didn’t recognize Ty out of his messenger uniform, even though he’d just delivered the invitations yesterday. She thought of telling her stepmother Ty worked at the palace, but even if he were a beggar, it was no excuse for her stepmother’s rudeness.
“Now, scat, you filthy street urchin. This young woman is busy, and I’ll not have you distracting her. She’s lazy enough.” She slammed her stick down, narrowly missing Ty’s foot.
“Stepmother. Leave him alone, please. He was merely helping me retrieve bolts of cloth that were too high for me to reach.”
Ty stole a quick glance from his bowed head position to wink at Cinderella, and she was glad he wasn’t too angry about being scolded and threatened.
“All right, then.” Her stepmother dug into her purse.“Away with you, now.” She tossed Ty a copper coin, and pulled Cinderella by the hair to the other side of the shop.
As soon as she could turn back, Cinderella waved but wasn’t sure if he saw, and by the time she’d finished talking Agatha out of a lime-and-pumpkin print, Ty had vanished from the store.
At least she’d have a chance of seeing him again at the magic competition—assuming she could talk her stepmother into letting her compete. It seemed pointless to ask, but she planned to suggest she be allowed to do that instead of attending the ball.